BEG ME!

by Blacklovespink1

Summary:

When animals feel threatened, they have only two choices... fight or flight. I tried to run from the jaws of fate that had bitten down hard on my life, but the more I struggled, the tighter the grip became.

Ha.. I guess I'll have to fight then.

Notes:

I'm baaack!!

I know I took longer than expected, but better late than never. Here we are to finish this story and for closure to my girl Sakura.

Missed you guys and welcome back, hopefully you'll continue to enjoy this story with me.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Culicidae

 

 

 

 

Did you know... that the deadliest animal on earth is the mosquito? This tiny insect, has killed more people than any other creature in the world, yet it's often overlooked or found annoying by humans and other animals alike.

Irony, seems to be life's biggest joke.

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The soft violin and piano at the background was like a soft lullaby in what had definetly become a battlefield for an unmovable object and an unstoppable force. Itachi's usually cold dark eyes, now were lit with deep mad rage. I could feel it on my skin, like a feverish heat that was about to boil over and consume us all. He was the unmovable object, the head of the Uchiha Yakuza, feared and respected, yet here he was, his entire being vibrating with fury because of a girl that was supposed to be nothing but a corpse or a pet. A nuisanance at most.

And here I was, looking dead at his eyes matching his rage with challenge. My green eyes, usually filled with kindness and warmth, had turned into a storm of defiance. I was the unstoppable force, once naive and kind, now turned into a survivor... a fighter. Sasuke stood beside me, a proud look on his face. His big hand laid on my waist also challenging his brother, his thumb brushing against my skin sending a shiver down my spine. His obsession with me was my weapon, my leverage, and I would use it to the fullest extent to achieve my goals. The men in the room could feel the tention that had suddenly filled the air, but none dared to speak or even move. This was between the Uchiha brothers and me.

"Sakura. I must admit I didn't expected to see you tonight. My brother failed to inform me of this." Itachi's suave tone was like a serrated knife sliding through silk, the calmness in his voice belying the turmoil of his emotions. The room was so still it seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the explosion that was bound to happen.

"Me and Sakura wanted to surprise you, aniki.  What a better moment than this." Sasuke said with a smug smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The room was a tableau of thugs and Yakuza members, frozen in the wake of the volatile tension that had just entered with us. The chandeliers above reflected the myriad of emotions, the cold steel glint of knives and guns waiting to be drawn.

I looked at the man at other side, at the head of the table. He must be Gaara. He had red hair and aqua-green eyes. His sharp stare was fixed on me as if he was trying to study me like a new life form he had just found. But he wasn't the one that unsettled me. Standing beside him, there was a man with spiky dark hair and Samurai mask on. I could see his ocean-blue eyes through the slits and they were filled with something I could not define. I felt a shiver down my spine. Who was he? I assumed he was Gaara's bodyguard but the way his eyes were focused on me, made me feel like I was his target more than just slight curiosity.

Sasuke held my hand and guided me to the empty sit next to him. He leaned in and whispered something in my ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps down my neck. It was something about keeping my guard up and to be alert at all times. His words echoed in my head like a battle cry. It was strange, feeling safe next to the very person that caused me the worst pain, that took me away from my life. But the dynamics had shifted, and I knew that in this room full of predators, Sasuke was the lesser of two evils.

Itachi kept his eyes on me, as if he was trying to read my soul. The music grew louder, the notes seemingly stoking the fire of his anger. "Gaara, I deeply apologize for the disrespect my little brother and his... fiancé, have shown you. I assure you, it will not happen again." His voice was a mix of fury and a promise. The mention of our engagement was a declaration of war in this underworld of power plays.

Gaara's deep chuckle cut through the tension, his eyes never leaving me. "It's quite alright, Itachi. Surprises are what keep things interesting in our line of work." His tone was amused, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. He took a sip of his wine, the red liquid glinting under the candlelight as he studied me. His gaze was intense, almost as if he could see through my layers of deceit and into the dark recesses of my mind where the plot against Itachi grew stronger each day, "It doesn't change the fact that I would still want to make business with you. My dear sister can find another man to marry. This was more a way to... seal the deal and also a peace offer between us."

Itachi looked at the red-head with cold eyes, trying to mask his anger, to then smile softly. "I am glad to hear that. It is our benefit to work together on this. Sharingan has been successful in Japan and overseas. The demand it's higher by the second." His words were like a dance, each syllable chosen to convey more than just meaning, it was a dance of power and control.

"Of course. However, I am interested on how this partnership will work. Suna is No Sabaku's territory and I am the one who controls it. I would hate to have a disagreement over territory and shares." Gaara said, his eyes now looking at Itachi, his grip tightening around the wine glass.

Sasuke's hand tightened around my waist, his other hand reaching for my thigh under the table. The pressure was firm and possessive. I knew he was watching my every move, waiting for any sign of weakness or disloyalty. But my mind was racing, calculating every possible outcome. This meeting was the perfect opportunity to drive a wedge between the two Yakuzas, to turn Gaara's interest into something more... useful.

Sasuke was the one to answer, his voice like a whip crack in the tense silence. "Gaara, let me assure you that we respect the boundaries of our allies. However, as you know, our product is not something that can be duplicated. It's a unique asset that we control. The partnership will be beneficial for both parties. Think of it as an exclusive service, rather than a territorial dispute." His hand on my thigh inched closer to the apex of my legs, his fingers pressing into my flesh, reminding me of my role in this macabre dance.

"Meaning?" Gaara's eyes narrowed slightly, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. "What exactly are you proposing, Sasuke?"

"We control the product, however, you control were it gets to. Suna will be the capital for its distribution outside of Japan. Exclusive rights, of course, in exchange for your protection and a generous percentage of the profits," Sasuke said smoothly, his hand still on my thigh, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles. The room was a pressure cooker, and every word he spoke was like turning up the heat, "Of course my men here in Konoha, also need part of the shares and of the product and I want them to be benefited from this agreement. They are loyal and have been waiting for this deal to go through."

Itachi's eyes grew wide, not able to hide the surprise in his eyes. Sasuke had always been more about insitinct and action, he was never know to be a strategist, that was Itachi's role. But now Sasuke was entering his territory like it was nothing. He looked at the men on the table and they were nodding in agreement to Sasuke's words. They knew the value of Sharingan, and the power it brought. It was like watching a lion claim his throne, and all the hyena's nodded in respect. Sakura smiled softly. This had been her idea; Sasuke had shared what was Itachi's plan and she had made one of her own with Sasuke as the spoke person. Itachi was right, Sasuke was more of an animal than a human, but she had always been smart and though she learned slowly... she did learned. The plan was to rob Itachi's status as head of the clan, slowly. To make the gang leaders pledge their loyalty to Sasuke, instead of Itachi. That was the plan.

Gaara's eyes moved from Sasuke to Itachi and back, a silent conversation passing between them. It was clear that he had not expected such an offer, and it was even more surprising that it was coming from Sasuke. "You are quite the shrewd business partner, Sasuke," Gaara said, his voice holding a hint of admiration. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is a proposal that requires careful consideration."

I felt the tension in the room begin to ease, like a coiled snake loosening its grip just enough to not strike. Yet I knew better than to let my guard down. The blue-eyed man beside Gaara remained a mystery, his gaze never leaving me, his presence as palpable as the heat of the room. I had to be careful not to be too obvious with my manipulations; I was playing with fire, and one wrong move could make me burn.

The conversation turned to the nitty-gritty of their agreement, the exchange of territories and the division of their illicit profits. It was a dance of power and greed, each step calculated and precise. I watched and listened, my mind racing with the possibilities of how I could use this situation to my advantage. If I could turn the two clans against each other, it would be the perfect opening to bring down the Uchiha empire from within. I looked across the table and saw Izumi looking at me with resentment. I couldn't help to smile softly and mockingly. I remembered our conversation and it had not been the most pleasent, but she had gotten the point. While both were under the Uchiha's power, I was on a different level. She was Itachi's pet, I was Sasuke's woman. The difference was vast.

Then I looked at Itachi, his eyes never leaving me, his mind working a mile a minute, probably trying to figure out what was happening. Did he suspect? Did he see the web of deceit that was slowly enveloping him? I kept my smile plastered on, playing the role of the doting fiancé perfectly. I leaned into Sasuke, my hand resting on his leg, feeling the muscles tense under the expensive fabric of his pants. His hand slid up my thigh, reaching dangerously high, but I didn't protest. It was all a part of the show, the performance of a lifetime.

One of the gang leaders, a man with tatoos on his face and bald head, spoke up, his voice gruff but respectful. "Itachi-sama, Sasuke-sama's proposal seems quite... enticing. Sharingan is in an all times high. If we can control its flow outside Japan, we would have the upper hand in many situations. But what assurances do we have that the quality of the product remains consistent?"

Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly, the mask of calm slipping for a brief moment, revealing the cold calculating mind behind it. "My men, the ones who are trained from birth, they are the ones that handle the Sharingan. They know what they do. You can be sure that the quality will be top notch." His voice was cold and sharp, leaving no room for argument.

Sasuke did not hesitate to take charge of the conversation, "And not only that, but you my friends, will be the first ones to taste the new batch. We have been working hard on making it even more potent, something that would make our enemies quiver in both envy and fear," The men seemed more interested by the minute, "You and your families have been loyal to the Uchiha since before by grandfather's name. You and me, have bled together and the Uchiha would like to thank you for that; by giving you something no one else has," he leaned in closer, his hand now resting on my upper thigh, his thumb dangerously close to my core. The room was thick with tension, a mix of curiosity and greed painted on their faces. It was like watching a bunch of hyena's fight over a piece of meat. "Your shares used to be of a 20% correct? We can double that. Your loyalty deserves a reward of your standards,"

The men on the table smiled and murmured in agreement, the allure of greater wealth and power too tempting to ignore. I could see the greed in their eyes, and I knew that Sasuke was on his way to buy their loyalty. It was a risky move, but one that could pay off handsomely. If we could isolate Itachi and gain the loyalty of these men, we would have the upper hand in our quest for vengeance. Itachi was seething, but even he had to admit, the plan was a very good one. More money to gang leaders, meant more loyalty. He silently sipped his wine, his mind racing as fast as a bullet train.

Gaara's smirk grew wider, "I am impressed, Sasuke. Your proposal is indeed fair and generous. I would be a fool not to accept it. But, we must discuss the terms of this new deal in more detail. After all, we are dealing with a very... unique product. One that requires trust and loyalty." His eyes slid over to Itachi, who was now leaning back in his chair, the mask of calmness fully restored.

"Of course. After this celebration, we will speak in private to finish up the details. But please, gentleman... enjoy the rest of the night." Itachi's voice was cold as ice, the tension in the room palpable as he raised his glass in a mock toast. Suddenly the dining room doors opened and a group of barely dressed women entered. I didn't need to be a genious to know they were prostitutes. The air grew thick with lust and the smell of cologne and perfume. The music grew louder, and the men's attention was diverted. I stood up trying to walk away from what soon would become a scene of debauchery, but Sasuke's hand shot out like a whip and grabbed my wrist, pulling me back down with a jerk that made me gasp.

"Where you going?" Sasuke whispered harshly, his breath hot in my ear. "I don't want you out of my sight." His grip tightened, the sharp edges of his fingertips digging into my skin, sending a jolt of both fear and excitement through my body. I knew what he was capable of, the monster that lurked beneath the surface, and yet here I was, playing into his hands.

"I need to get some air. I feel dizzy." It wasn't a lie, the smell of cigar and alcohol was starting to get to me. The room was spinning with the weight of the conversation and the touch of Sasuke's hand. His grip was firm but not painful, a silent reminder of my place by his side. He studied my face for a moment, his eyes searching for any sign of deception. Finally, he nodded. He stood up, guiding his hand to the small of my back, with intentions of coming with me. I placed my hand on his chest to stop him, "I need to go to the bathroom, Sasuke. You don't need to come with me for that."

"Fine," Sasuke said reluctantly, his hand lingering on my back for a second longer than necessary before he removed it. "But don't be too long, and take Juugo with you."

I nodded before walking out of the dining room. After I was out of sight and left out a deep breath. The tension was suffocating. Juugo's voice took me out of my thoughts, "Everything went well I suposse. I guess your plan is working." His soft voice was a stark contrast to his massive build. I nodded, "Yeah. I guess it is." I looked at him deeply. Juugo nodded in response.

"Did Izumi contact you?" I asked softly. The last thing I needed was someone to hear.

"Yes," Juugo replied, his voice as quiet as a whisper in the hallway. "She gave me some info about Itachi's business movements. He's expecting a shipment tonight at the docks. It's supposed to be the new batch of Sharingan."

"Nothing else?" I pressed, my heart racing as the plan unfolded.

Juugo leaned in closer, his voice a mere murmur. "Just that. She says Itachi doesn't share much of his plans with her."

I took a deep breath before nodding, "Alright. Keep me posted. I'm going to the bathroom." With that, I left Juugo standing in the hallway, his eyes watching me as I disappeared into the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door and leaned against it, my heart racing. This was the moment I had been waiting for. The chance to strike at the very heart of Itachi's operation, the opportunity to get him off-balance. I quickly went to the toilet and opened the cover on the back tank. Inside I had the phone Ino gave me on a plastic bag. I took it out and dialed her number, the sound of the dial tone seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet bathroom.

"Sakura?!" Ino's urgent voice echoed through the line, "Are you ok?!"

"You said this 'Sai' was a cop right? I need him to contact the interpol. Tell him I am willing to provide information about the Uchiha, in exchange of protection." I whispered into the phone, the sound of water running from the faucet covering the urgency of my voice.

Ino's voice was a mix of surprise and excitement, "Sakura, are you sure about this?"

"I've never been so sure in my life. Gotta go." I hung up the phone, my heart thumping in my chest like a drum of war. The sound of the party outside grew distant as I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. I was about to bring down an empire, the one who had taken me away from everything I knew and thrust me into this dark world. But it was for a purpose greater than myself. It was for the sake of my own survival, and the hope of bringing down the monster that was the Yakuza. I tried to compose myself but the nausea grew stronger. The smell of the room was too much. I quickly kneeled on the toilet and threw up. The vomit hit the water and I flushed it away. Please God... not that. I don't need or want this right now. I slowly stood up and washed my face, fixing my make-up and straightened my dress. The show must go on.

I walked out looking to the sides, before going out to a balcony to settle down. My thoughts and heart were racing. I had to tell Sasuke about the shipment. He needed to know, it was crucial. The cool night air washed over me, the moon casting a silver glow on the garden. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. The sweet scent of blooming sakura trees filled my nose, a stark contrast to the acrid taste of fear and manipulation that lingered from the dinner. I was so distracted that I failed to hear the steps behind me, until a muffled voice was heard.

"Sakura."

I jumped slightly at the sound of the voice, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife hidden in my garter. I turned around, and it was just the spiky-haired man in the Samurai mask standing a few steps away, his eyes piercing through the shadows. He walked closer to me slowly, but weirdly enough it wasn't threatening. He was like a statue come to life, his movements deliberate and precise. His black suit made him look elegant and dangerous. "What do you want?" I demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"You're alive..." The masked man's voice was filled with something akin to wonder, as if the sight of me standing there was the last thing he had ever expected.

I looked at him with confusion, still on alert. He stopped right in front of me, before slowly removing his mask. My breath hitched; beneth that mask was a face that I never thought I would see. Tears filled my eyes. "Naruto..." I whispered, his name leaving my lips like a prayer. He was here, he was alive.

Naruto's ocean-blue eyes searched my face, "Are you ok? How are you...?" His voice trailed off, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The warmth in his gaze was a stark contrast to the coldness of the Yakuzas inside. For a brief moment, I felt a glimmer of hope, a connection to the world I had left behind. But I couldn't get distracted and neither could he.

"Put the mask back on. They can't know who you are." I whiped my tears away with the back of my hand, my voice firm as I took a step back from him. "We can't be seen together. It's too dangerous."

He did as I said, understanding the situation immediately. His mask was back on and he was the stranger again. But his eyes... they were still the same, filled with warmth and care. "What's going on Sakura? How did you... and him...? He asked, his voice was a mix of concern and confusion.

"I did what I had to do to survive. And now, I'm playing the game to win," I replied, my voice devoid of its usual softness. "What about you?"

Naruto chuckled, "I guess I'm doing the same" he said lowering his eyes for a moment. There was a moment of silence between us. Both survivors, both hurting, both different. "I work for Gaara now. He wants to destroy the Uchiha so he can be the head of the Yakuza. I'm using him to get to Sasuke and destroy the Yakuza."

I chuckled lightly, "Life and irony, huh?" I leaned on the railing of the balcony, looking out at the moonlit garden. "What about your wife? I saw her on TV. She declared war on the Yakuza. Brave woman, I see why you married her."

"Not anymore. She thinks I'm dead." The sadness in Naruto's voice was palpable, a stark contrast to the cold, calculated persona he had adopted. "It was the only way."

I looked at him with wide eyes and a sadness I felt deep in my bones. This people had ruined so much lives, they had to pay for them. "Naruto..."

"What's your plan?" his voice cut me off coldly, reminding me of the circumstances. The plan was to use Sasuke's obsession with me to get close to Itachi and then betray them all. But seeing him here, alive, threw a wrench in my emotions. I took a deep breath, "I'm going to get to Itachi, find a way to bring him down. And you?"

Naruto's eyes grew colder than the moon above us, "I'm going to kill Sasuke. That's all that matters." His voice was a whisper, but the conviction behind it was louder than a shout.

Once more, Naruto had surprised me. The Naruto I knew, was kind, fair and just. This man beside me was something else, something colder and more ruthless. He had been through hell and back, I could see it in his eyes. "How can I help you?" I asked, my voice low and steady. I knew that my friendship with him was a tool, but also something genuine. We had a shared history, a bond that was not easily broken.

Naruto studied me, his eyes unreadable. "You're playing a dangerous game, Sakura. But if your aim is to bring down the Uchiha, I can help you." He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to me, "Tell me what you know, and I will make sure you are safe. Gaara can protect you even more than the police could if it ever comes down to run away. I got your back."

I looked at his hand for a moment, then took it. His grip was firm and warm, and for a brief second I felt like I had an ally in this cold, treacherous world. "There's a shipment of Sharingan tonight at the docks. It's Itachi's pride and joy, the purest and most powerful batch yet. If we can intercept it, we can cause chaos within the clan, and maybe, just maybe, we can make him vulnerable and give Sasuke the upper hand."

"Why would you want Sasuke to have the upper hand on this?" Naruto questioned, his grip on my hand tightening slightly.

I swallowed, "...Because he is the only one who can protect me; and my baby." The words felt like acid in my mouth. I knew I was pregnant. I was a med student. I had all the symptoms. Naruto's eyes widen trought the mask, the pupils dilating slightly. I could see the shock in them, "What did you just say?"

"I... think I'm pregnant, Naruto. And Itachi wants to kill me. Sasuke is the only thing between me and him. I need him alive, for now." I said, my voice quivering. The weight of the words felt like a boulder on my chest.

Naruto's grip tightened, his eyes burning with a new intensity. He knew what had happened between Sasuke and me, and he knew it must not have been consensual. He was a man who had sworn to protect me and now I was pregnant by the man we both hated. His hold on my hand tightened. It was both comforting and a promise. 

.

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"What you need?" 

Chapter 2: Cracks

Summary:

crack
/krak/
noun
plural noun: cracks
1. a line on the surface of something along which it has split without breaking into separate parts.

Notes:

Hello! Sorry for the delay. Been an adult its not easy :( But here I am with a new chapter to your heads.

Enjoy!

Dream in cursive.

letters and writings in bold and cursive.

 

 

Naruto had returned to the meeting, turned into a celebration; a few moments before she did. They didn't want any suspicions to arise among the clan. She stood still, watching the moon and the stars on the dark night, the soft yet cool breeze caressing her skin. Everything seemed so calm on that balcony, but she knew it was nothing but a fleeting moment.

She softly pressed her hand on her stomach, as if trying to feel the life she knew was growing inside her, and yet she was praying to any god that could hear her that it was nothing but her paranoia and not the truth she deep down feared. The reality of her situation was a heavy burden, but she had made her decision and she was sticking to it. Her heart raced as she thought of the conversation she had with Naruto. The promise of putting an end to this once and for all. They had to end it, there was no other way out. She turned away from the balcony's railing and walked trough the silent hallway that led to the lounge. She walked slowly as if to drag time, not wanting to continue with the lies and the manipulations. She was exhausted.

She could hear the music coming from the lounge, the laughter of drunk men in and their greed; when suddenly she saw him standing a few feets away from her. His perfect tailored black suit and red tie made him look more like the grim reaper than a man. His piercing eyes met hers, sending a shiver down her spine. Itachi's dark eyes looked at her with calculated calm, but she knew better. He was waiting. He stood at the end of the corridor, half shrouded in shadow, a glass of untouched whisky in his hand. His gaze was unredeable, but his presence alone made the walls feel like they were closing in.

"You've been busy," he said coolly.

Sakura didn't flinch. "I went to get some air"

He nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth went up in a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes, "You're a terrible liar, Sakura. The only one who doesn't seem to notice is my stupid otouto. Congratulations by the way; you have succesfully played your way up." He lift up his glass, as if making a toast to her name.

She straightened her spine. "I don't know what you think-"

"Don't fucking bother, Sakura. I've been doing this shit long before you even knew about this life, so don't try to hustle your way out with me." Itachi's tone was icy, his smile never wavering as he stepped closer, his shadow growing larger across the floor. "Do you know what the problem is with people like you? You think survival means deception. But eventually, even survivors miscalculate."

His voice was calm. Too calm.

Sakura swallowed. "I'm loyal to Sasuke."

Itachi tilted his head, studying her. "Are you?" A pause. "Or are you just afraid of what happens if he dies?"

Her pulse quickened. The statement hit too close to home.

"Everybody has a weakness, and I admit you discovered one of mine's. But you haven't discovered all of them." he added, voice dropping. "You're gonna make a mistake and I will find out and when I do..."

Sakura's breath caught. The warning clear as day.

"Careful, Sakura. The Uchiha eat secrets alive."

Just then, footsteps echoed down the corridor- fast, deliberate. Sasuke.

He appeared behind Itachi, eyes flicking between them. "What's going on?" Sasuke's voice was tight, a clear undercurrent of suspicion in his tone.

Itachi smiled without warmth. "Just a conversation. You should talk more to your... woman. Make sure you're on the same page."  With that, he walked off, shadows swallowing him.

Sasuke watched him leave, his eyes dangerous. He stood in silence until he was sure Itachi was out of earshot, he then looked at her, his expression tight. "I told you not to take too long. What the fuck were you doing?"

Sakura released a breath, she didn't know she was holding. "I used the bathroom, and I needed to be alone for a while. I went to the balcony."

"Alone. I told you to take Juugo with you." his voice was tight, a vein pulsed in his neck, his hand turn into a fist. His knuckles turned white.

Sakura walked to him slowly, "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. We had a victory today. Enjoy it." She held his hand slowly, soothing his nerves with a gentle squeeze. She knew she had to be careful, every step she took had to be measured. Sasuke's obsession was a double-edged sword.

Sasuke looked at her deeply, yet coldly. "What did he say?"

"Nothing new", she said, starting to walk past him. "Your brother enjoys the sound of his own voice." But her hands were shaking. Sasuke noticed this but decided not to push further. He knew Itachi could be intimidating without even recurring to violence. She was putting a brave face on, but he could feel the tension coiled within her, ready to snap like a tightly wound spring. He watched her back disappear in the shadows of the corridor before he followed her back into the lounge. The room was thick with cigar smoke and the smell of expensive alcohol. The men of the Uchiha clan were laughing loudly, celebrating the arrangement made between Uchiha and No Sabakus. The Oiran, beautifully dressed, served drinks and flattered the men, some already sitted in some of the men laps. The air was filled with the sound of clinking glasses and the occasional shout of a cheers.

Sakura was sitted far away from everything looking trough the a large window, her emerald eyes reflecting the moon's glow. The room was a mix of gold and dark tones, the walls lined with expensive tapestries and the floor covered by a crimson carpet that looked like a river of blood under the soft lighting. She was beautiful. But not the kind of beauty he was use to see from hookers, models or actresses. No. Her beauty resided on the strength of her spirit, on the sharpness of her mind. She was not a striking beauty, but she was beautiful. And she was his. Or at least she pretended to be.

Sasuke had never experienced this. He was used to get what he wanted since he was a kid. His life is surrounded by luxury and indulgence but something about her was different. She wasn't just another asset or a toy to him, she was a challenge. A puzzle he hadn't figured out yet, but he knew he had to keep her close. He knew she had secrets. Maybe she had plans. But what he didn't know was if those plans included him. He walked towards her, the sound of his shoes on the marble floor cutting through the ambient noise. He stopped next to her, his hand finding hers again.

"Dance with me." his voice sultry, almost pleading.

She looked at him with wide eyes. He could feel the Itachi's and Gaara's eyes on the other ends of the lounge. Time seemed to stop. The noise, the alcohol, the scent of cigar, all of it dissapeared. It was just her for him.

She looked back to the window, trying to play it cool, but he knew she was nervous. "I don't know how to dance this kind of song." She was lying. Her heart was racing. The tension was palpable.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you everything you need to know." Sasuke's voice was low, almost a whisper, the promise of a dark secret shared only between them. His grip tightened around her hand, and before she could protest, he pulled her into the throng of men and Oiran. The music was a slow, sultry jazz tune, a stark contrast to the tension that hummed between them.

Their bodies fit together like a puzzle, Sasuke guiding her with a possessive hand at the small of her back, his other hand grasping hers firmly. Sakura's heart raced as she let him lead, the feel of his warm hand against her skin making it difficult to remember the conversation she'd just had with Naruto. The room swirled around them, a blur of faces and flashing lights that seemed to dim in significance as they moved to the rhythm. She was acutely aware of every touch, every breath he took, and the way his eyes never left hers. It was as if they were in their own world, a dangerous dance of power and desire that only they could understand.

Persephone and Hades. That's what they looked like to the people in the room, lost in their own little world of passion and power. They were the center of attention, even though they weren't the ones in charge. Sasuke's hand slid down to her waist, pulling her closer to him, and Sakura felt the heat radiating from his body, the muscles beneath his shirt tightening with each step. His movements were fluid, almost predatory, and she had to force herself to keep up, her own fear and anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He twirled her around, her emerald eyes locked on his obsidian ones, a silent battle of wills played out as they danced. His hand slid further down, his thumb brushing the curve of her hip, sending a spark of electricity through her. She had to remember her purpose, the promise she'd made to herself and to Naruto. But the allure of Sasuke's embrace was intoxicating at times.

Their dance grew closer, more intimate, and Sakura felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he whispered, "You're mine, Sakura. You always have been." His voice was filled with a dark possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but feel the power he held over her. The room faded away, leaving only the two of them in their dance of manipulation and desire.

Itachi and Gaara watched with close attention. One with hatred the other one with intrigue. Gaara found the woman fascinating. There was something about her that didn't quite fit in the mold of the usual Yakuza molls. It was as if she was a wildflower trying to grow in a garden of poison ivy. Her beauty was natural and fiery, and it was clear she had more brains than she let on. It was something that intrigued him, but also something that could get her killed. He knew the game she played, and he was curious to see how long she would last.

Izumi watched with a mix of envy and longing. While she was given everything by Itachi, it was clear that Itachi would never dance or look at her the way Sasuke looked at Sakura. Her thoughts were cut short by a hand on her shoulder.

"Remember." Juugo's deep cold voice broke her thoughts. His warning clear. She was now Sakura's informant, and she had to keep her act up. At least for a while. Her eyes went back to the dancing couple and she smirked darkly. If she wanted to play with the wolves, she would get bitten.

---

 

The neon glow from the city barely touched the windows of the safe house where Ino paced, phone clutched tightly to her ear.

"No, Sai, you don't get it. We need to work faster. She's slipping further in. Wether willingly or unwillingly. If we don't pull her soon-"

"We won't pull her," Sai interrupted, his voice calm but laced with an edge. "If we pull her now, she's fucked. We won't make the same mistakes again. She's also closer than anyone's ever been. Let her play her hand."

Ino's frustration cracked trough her composure. "She's not a pawn. She's my friend. And you're using her as leverage in some career-climbing slash revenge fantasy."

There was silence on the other end. Then: "She's already in Ino. You know that." Sai's voice softened. "But I'll protect her. I owe her that."

Ino exhaled shakily. "All of you owe her more than that."

Across town, Sai sat alone in a dimly lit room, staring at a wall covered in photos, names, and red strings. A digital tablet glowed in his lap. He tapped through encrypted messages-interpol chatter, Gaara's movements, Sakura's intel-and stopped on a new file.

A new agent assigned to their off-record task force.

Agent: Hatake, Kakashi. Interpol.

Sai narrowed his eyes. Kakashi wasn't just any agent. He was a former friend of Fugaku Uchiha. A man with history-deep, personal- and more than a few demons of his own. Kakashi's father had allegedly comitted suicide after a mission involving the Uchiha, something no one talked about in public. Sai smiled thinly. This wans't just about revenge, or a promotion, or even his way to finally getting out from Gaara's grasp. It was personal for everyone.

---

 

Eight year old Sasuke was on his knees in the garden, holding a dead cat in his hands. He had been shot. The blood coated his little hands but he never stopped holding it. His face was blank, almost as if he couldn't understand what just happened. His cat was dead. No. It had been killed. He heard hurried footsteps behind him, soon his mom had kneeled beside him.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Th-this shouldn't have happened." Her voice was trembling as she took the lifeless body from his arms. Tears stained her cheeks as she looked into his blank gaze.

"Why? Is just a stupid cat. Dad says that all things die, especially those who are weak." Sasuke's voice was cold, almost detached, as if he were recounting a story he'd heard rather than living it.

Mikoto looked at him with wide teary eyes. She placed the cat on the ground and desperatly hugged her youngest son. So tight that she could have break him. "No, Sasuke! No! You have to care, you must." her voice desperate.

Sasuke only looked over her shoulder, still pondering on what she just said and what his father had told him.

"You are allowed to love, baby. You're not like your father or you brother. You are different. Don't let them turn you into a monster." She separated him from her and kissed his cheek, "I love you, Sasuke."

Only then, Sasuke felt a little tear fall from his left eye. Sadness. So that's what it feels like.

.

.

Sasuke rose up, sweating, from his bed. He looked around and saw Sakura sleeping beside him. His breathing started to calm down. He covered his face with both of his hands. The images of his mother were vivid in his mind. He never talked about her. It was like a dark shadow that followed him, a memory that didn't belong to him but was part of him nonetheless. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to push the thoughts away. It was just a dream. That's all it was.

He slowly stood up as to not wake Sakura. He grabbed a silk robe to cover his nudity. His tattooed covered back and arms, twitched as his muscles flexed as he put on the rope. His mother's words echoed in his mind. 'You're not like your father or your brother. You're different'. He silently left his room and walked to the place he hadn't visited in years. A room he locked up and wanted to forget, forever.

The door to his mother's room creaked open, stirring dust in to the moonlight. Everything was still- like she might return at any moment. 

He opened her old drawer, fingers brushing over an aged photograph of the four of them. A memory surfaced: Her laughter, soft and fleeting. He had buried it. And the something he hadn't seen before. A small locket. Inside, folded paper, yellowed with time.

His mother's writing:

"Sasuke, if you're reading this... I tried. I wanted to take you far from here. I begged him. But he would never let us go."

His breath caught.

"I never stopped loving you. I only hope one day you'll forgive me for not saving you both...

...I love you, Sasuke, always. Don't be like them."

 

He sat down hard on the floor, letter trembling in his hands. Itachi told him she betrayed them. That she was going to abandon them. That she deserved what happened. 

But her words-so full of fear and love-were the opposite of what he believed to be true. Sasuke couldn't breath. The world started to spin. He was dizzy. 

.

.
Who had been lying to him? What did he remember?

Chapter 3: Blood Betrayal

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

Kakashi Hatake stepped off the train platform in Konoha, the cigarrete on his mouth leaving a trail of smoke that swirled in the chilly evening air, while holding his bag on his left hand. His spiky silver hair and eyepatch covering his left eye made him stand out. He was a good looking man; tall, and seemed to be on his forties. But what made him really interesting to the people who new him was his 'I don't care attitude'. It was almost as if he was constantly bored with everything around him. The city was buzzing with the usual sounds of cars honking, people chattering, and the occasional siren wailing in the distant. His lone dark eyes looked around him, looking for the man who contacted him and he found him.

Sai was standing a few feets in front of him, waiting silently.

“You’re late,” Sai said.

“You’re young,” Kakashi replied dryly. “And you’re playing with matches in a gas leak.”

Sai handed him a file. “Everything you need is in there. Sakura Haruno is inside. Sasuke Uchiha is her primary connection. Itachi’s the target.”

Kakashi didn’t open the file. He already knew too much. He nodded and threw his cigarrete on the floor before stepping on it. "I want them both."

Sai nodded, "We on the same page on that one. Sakura is using Sasuke to survive and Sasuke wants to get rid of Itachi, because Itachi wants to kill her."

Kakashi nodded again, "Good. That makes it easier. By the way... does Sasuke knows that Itachi was the one who got Mikoto killed?"

Sai looked at him with wide eyes, filled with surprise.

Kakashi looked at him with his trademark difference. "There's a lot you don't know, kid. But I was there... I saw... everything."

---

 

Hyuuga State, Kyoto.

 

The silk curtains fluttered with the breeze, heavy with the scent of orchids. Hinata stood by the open window, eyes scanning the garden beyond her four walls — as if she could will Naruto to appear through sheer desperation.

Behind her, Hanabi sipped from a delicate glass of wine, lounging in a crisp white suit that matched her cool detachment. “Still waiting for a ghost, onee-san?”

Hinata didn’t turn. “If you knew what it was like to lose someone without closure, maybe you’d understand.”

Hanabi giggled and rose to her feet, crossing the room slowly. “Closure. You don't need closure. You need power, Hinata. Power is the only thing that guarantees peace.”

“You mean control,” Hinata whispered, still not facing her. “You’re trying to fill your emptiness with conquest.”

“Oh no. I'm stirring our family back to greatness. To independence,” Hanabi snapped, voice suddenly sharp. “You could’ve taken the reins after Father died. But instead, you chose to chase shadows.”

At that, Hinata finally turned — her lavender eyes hard with quiet resolve. “All I want is the truth. About Naruto. And you’re selling out Japan to the Russians just to make a name for yourself.”

Hanabi’s eyes glittered. “They’re not just Russians, they’re Yuri Romanoff’s empire. And they're mine too. Do you know what that means for the Hyuuga name?”

“It means you’ve dragged us into something darker than anything the Uchiha ever did.” Her voice broke slightly. “You’re selling our people, Hanabi, our home. This isn’t expansion. It’s war profiteering.”

Hanabi stepped closer, her voice lowering, but with a hint of desperation, “And what are you doing? Working with Itachi Uchiha to find your dead husband? That man murdered our allies. He nearly destroys our family. He used us as he saw fit. You think he’s going to hand you the truth without asking for something first?”

“He already did, remember?” Hinata’s voice wavered. “He asked for the name of the mole.”

Hanabi stiffened.

“And?”

Hinata looked away. “Nothing has changed. I'll give him Sasuke's name. I only hope he is true to his word.”

There was a long silence between them. The space within them growing larger by the second. They were sisters, they loved each other, but their ideal and goals were a gap that was starting to be filled with doubt and resentment. Hanabi had become ambotious and power hungry. Hinata just wanted peace.

Hanabi stepped forward and embraced her, tight and cold. “You’re my sister, and I love you. But please.... don’t stand in my way. Not even for him.”

Hinata closed her eyes, tears prickling behind her lashes. “Then don’t make me your enemy.”

Hanabi's eyes watered slightly, a rare show of vulnerability. Oh, how it hurts. Sisters, no more.

---

 

The Uchiha estate was silent. The early morning's sun entered every window in the mansion, but it was not the warm, welcoming light of a new day. It was the cold, harsh light of reality — a stark reminder that maybe... everything he thought to be true, was nothing but a lie. Sasuke was alone in his studio. He sat on his desk, his mother's letter in front of him. He called Juugo and Suigetsu called him to discuss some intel. He leaned back on his chair and let his head rest on the leather and closed his eyes for a moment. For the first time in his life, he was filling tired. Too much was happening all at once and he had to find a way to keep himself, and the business in control.

The door to the studio opened and both Juugo and Suigetsu entered.

"Hey, boss." Suigetsu's voice was the first one to break the silence. He was dressed in his usual all black, a stark contrast to the bright light of the studio. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sasuke looked at him sternly, "What you got?" He was in no mood for bullshit.

Suigetsu sat in the long black leather couch on the right side of desk, while Juugo leaned against the wall, arms folded.

"The good news is there are a lot of gang leaders who are willing to support you on taking the lead of the clan. They think you're more concerned to their needs," Suigetsu began, flipping through the pages of a thick dossier. "The bad news is that there are a few who are suspicious of your intentions and are very loyal to Itachi. Those are the old heads mostly. They believe in tradition and some shit like that."

Sasuke's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the letter. The words echoed in his head, like a shout. "What about Itachi? You got something?"

Suigetsu's smile made him look like a shark, "I got more than something. I got someone from the inside who is willing to cooperate with you."

Sasuke's eyes went to him, sharp as a knife. "And what do they want in return?" straight to business. Everything had a price, specially knowledge.

Suigetsu leaned in closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "They want Itachi's head in a silver platter. They have a score to settle with him and they want you to be the one to do it."

Sasuke's curiosity and surprise picked. Juugo was as shocked as he could get. Someone from Itachi's side wanted to kill him? Most of Itachi's men were like loyal dogs, the same with his own men and after what happened with Deidara, he doubted anyone would want to challenge him.

"Who is it?" Juugo was the one to ask, his voice doubtful and a hint of skepticism laced in it. He had always been the cautious one out of the two, and Sasuke appreciated that.

"They want to be kept in the shadows," Suigetsu said, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "But they gave me this. Itachi's shipment movements and meetings he had planned. None disclosed to you, boss."

Sasuke took the folder and scanned it, his eyes narrowing as he read the information. It was all true. He knew Itachi had his own agenda, but to think that he'd be so bold as to hide something like this from him was... surprising. Sasuke closed it and put it on a drawer that could only be opened with his fingerprint.

"Good job, Suigetsu." Sasuke's voice was cold, his eyes still glued to the drawer. "Keep an eye on the informant. They could be setting us up."

"If they are, I'll fucking kill them myself, boss." Suigetsu's grin was feral.

Sasuke nodded. Suigetsu was as blood thirsty as he was when it came to revenge, that's why he trusted him with most of his dirty work. He knew that the man didn’t miss a beat when it came to loyalty.

"Juugo, how's Sakura?" Sasuke's question was simple, but the underlying tension was palpable.

Juugo looked at him with a hint of wariness. "She's... fine, boss. Cooperative."

The Uchiha looked at him with eyes that gave away his silent words, 'don't bullshit me.' Juugo knew Sasuke didn't tolerate half truths, especially when it came to Sakura. She was a wildcard. A beautiful one, but a wildcard nonetheless.

Juugo sighed, "She's wary. Most of the time she is trying to one up Itachi. She is scared of him, even though she doesn't admit it." He paused, his gaze meeting Sasuke's. "But she's loyal to you. For now. She wants to use Izumi for intel on Itachi as well, but to be honest, I don't trust Itachi's bitch."

Sasuke smiled lightly. His girl was playing the game. A little clumsy, but still she was playing it. "If Izumi does anything against Sakura, kill her Juugo. And make sure you make her suffer, don't hesitate."

"Understood." Juugo nodded. He knew how much Sasuke valued Sakura and he knew that he had to protect her at all costs.

"Suigetsu, keep up the good work. Dismissed. You stay, Juugo."

Suigetsu nodded and left the studio, his designer black shoes clicking against the marble floor until the sound of the closing door echoed through the room. Juugo looked at his boss, the tension thickening the air around them.

Sasuke looked back at the letter for a brief moment, before handing it to Juugo. Juugo opened it and read it in silence. His expression a combination of surprise and something close to pity. Juugo finished the letter and hand it back to Sasuke in complete silence.

"Itachi told me... that she betrayed us. That she wanted to leave and abandon us and the clan, That she deserved what happened to her, what my father did to her. That she hated us." Sasuke's voice was low, almost confused. "Either my mother is lying... or Itachi is; and he and my father... planned to kill my mother."

Juugo remained silent, his expression unreadable. Sasuke looked at him, expecting some form of reassurance, but Juugo had none to give. Instead, he spoke the truth, "It's possible, boss. It's a messed up world we're in. Blood ties are often the thinnest of all."

Sasuke's eyes remained unreadable. Was everything he believed about his mom a lie? Did he even wanted to find out?

There was an urgent knock on his door, and Sasuke's head snapped up from the letter. His thoughts swirled like a tornado of confusion and anger. It was Kagome-San. Her usually stoic expression was now marred with concern and urgency.

"I apoligize for interrupting Sasuke-Sama, but Sakura-San is not feeling well." Kagome-San's voice was tight with anxiety.

Sasuke stood up as if pushed by an unseen force and rushed to his room, Juugo on his tail. A maid was holding her hair while she threw up on the toilet. Her face was pale and she could barely lift her face. Sasuke rushed to her side, his eyes filled with worry. He had never seen Sakura like this.

"Call Kabuto, tell him to come here right the fuck now." Sasuke's voice was sharp as he bent over Sakura, his hand gently stroking her back. Her vomit still getting out of her. Juugo got his cell phone and called the family doctor immediately.

Sakura grabbed his forearm in desperation, "N-no! No d-doctor..."

"Then you better tell me what's wrong with you." Sasuke's voice was a gentle demand, his touch on her forehead cool and calming. Her skin clammy due to sweat.

She just looked at him while taking deep breaths, refusing to talk. Sasuke's eyes turned into a glare. "Juugo, call him."

Juugo nodded and stepped out, making the call. 

---

 

Neji had always hated jazz. The chaotic rhythms grated at his nerves, but the bar's anonymity suited their purpose. He sat across from Itachi, his posture a mirror of practiced aristocracy and violent ambition.

"Hanabi’s planning to expand and to take over the Hyuuga. She's will use the russians to solidify her position. That kind of influence shifts your balance of power."

Itachi sipped his drink, eyes half-lidded.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Neji leaned in. "Because I want her gone. And her sister."

Itachi let the silence stretch until it nearly broke.

"You want to be head of the Hyuuga."

"I want what I'm owed. Hiashi was going to hand me everything once he was gone, and yet I'm shackled by legacy and tradition. Hinata and Hanabi are weaknesses you can't afford. Help me cut them loose."

Itachi tapped his glass.

"Then prove you're worth the favor. You see I have the suspision that my brother's new fiance was handing over information about us to the police. At the time it was proven to be one of my men, but I don't believe that to be true, I think he was framed. Find out who was the real mole. Hinata knows who it is. We'll see then how loyal you are to me."

---

 

Kabuto examined Sakura thoroughly, under Sasuke's watchfull eyes. She was sitting down on the edge of bed, she stopped throwing up about thirty minutes ago. It was a stark contrast to the fiery woman he knew her to be. After a few moments, Kabuto finally looked at him.

"Congratulations, Sasuke-Sama and Sakura-San. It seems you're expecting." Kabuto's voice was calm and professional, but the weight of his words sent shockwaves through the room. A heavy silence fell on the room, with only Sasuke and Sakura to witness it.

Sakura had her eyes down, no brightness in them. Sasuke looked at her unreadable expression, trying to gauge her reaction. Her hand was tight around the blanket she held against her, as if it was the only thing keeping her together. He slowly walked to her and kneeled. She still didn't look at him. Sasuke slowly placed his hand in her stomach. She finally looked up to him, her eyes wide. Sasuke looked only to her stomach, his head tilded to the side, as if trying to understand. Sakura looked at him with curiosity, until an almost imperceptible smile grew on his lips.

The smile turned into a soft laugh that went louder and louder until it was echoing through the walls of the mansion. It was a laugh filled with shock, disbelief and a hint of joy. Sakura was pregnant. The reality hit Sasuke like a sledgehammer, but it was a reality he was willing to accept. He looked at her, his hand still on her stomach. Her wide eyes due to surprise, became a glare of anger. She slapped him so hard across the face that it echoed through the room. But that didn't stop him.

Now she couldn't go anywhere. She was his now, forever bound by the life growing inside her. The gravity of the situation was not lost on Sasuke, who took Sakura's hand and pulled her to her feet, his own eyes alight with a fierce determination. She kept punching him, slapping him, screaming, trying to break loose from his grip, but his eyes remained on hers, his smile never wavering.

 

From this moment on, everybody would know that Sakura Haruno belonged to Sasuke Uchiha.

Chapter 4: Beautiful Cage

Summary:

Welcome to the wedding. You're cordially invited.

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

Kakashi looked at the window while droplets of rain fell. His cigarrette lit up while he took a deep drag. "I was undercover about 20 years ago. My objective was to move up the ranks and become Fugaku's right hand. His most trusted man." Sai listened intently, sitting behind him on his desk. "But things got... complicated." Kakashi took another drag and exhaled the smoke.

"I started to get in too deep. The lines blurred. To the point I didn't even knew who I was anymore. To the point where... I got too close to Fugaku's wife... Mikoto." Kakashi's voice cracked, hinting at the weight of the unspoken words. "She was the only good thing Fugaku had. She was sweet, caring, innocent at fault. How did a woman like him ended up with a monster like Fugaku... well... you can imagine how that happened."

The tension in his words hung heavy in the air, the silence only pierced by the occasional crackle of distant thunder. Rain continued to tattoo the window, casting a gloomy rhythm against the glass. Sai's eyes widened as he digested the revelation, his mind racing with questions about the forbidden relationship between Kakashi and Mikoto. But before he could utter a word, Kakashi spoke again, his voice thick with the weight of years of secrets.

"We got closer and closer, right under Fugaku's nose. That was before Sasuke was even born. The lingering stares, the fleeting touches, the whispers in the dark. We knew it was dangerous, but we couldn't resist the pull. And when she got pregnant..." Kakashi paused, his hand tightening around the cigarette. "It was like a ticking time bomb. We didn't know if it was mine's or his. I still have no fucking idea, but if I do the math... it matches."

Sai's eyes wanted to fly out of it's sockets. He slowly stood up, not able to remain on his sit. "Are you saying, Sasuke could be your son?" He felt a sudden rush of air as he said it, like the room had just been punched.

Kakashi just kept looking a the window, sorrow in his onloy visible eye. "Maybe. But I couldn't tell anyone. If Fugaku found out, he'd have killed her. And if she had my child, he'd have killed it. Or worse." His voice was cold and detached, as if he'd told this story a thousand times. But Sai knew this was the first time he had ever shared this with anyone.

A deep chuckle came from Kakashi. "Not that it made a difference. He killed her anyway." He took a swig from a bottle of sake sitting on the windowsill, his hand shaking slightly. "Itachi found out she was going to run away with me. At this point she knew that I was an undercover. I was going to place her in witness protection. She and Sasuke would be protected. We could start over, but Itachi went straight to Fugaku and told him about us, the only thing he didn't told him was who I really was, cause he didn't knew."

The room felt colder as Kakashi spoke, the rain outside seeming to echo the chill in his voice. "Fugaku lost it. He saw her as a traitor. He didn't care if Sasuke was his or not. He just snapped." Kakashi's hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white. "Being witness and also partaking in how the Uchiha dealt with traitors, I can only imagine what he did to her. I waited all night you know... we were going to meet at the train station. I imagined what happened, I just didn't want to believe it."

Sai felt a pang of pity for Kakashi, the man in front of him, now revealing a past filled with love, deceit, and tragedy. He took a tentative step closer. "Will you be able to do this? The objective is to end the Uchiha. Sasuke will end up dead or in jail. There is no other way."

Kakashi turned to face him, the cigarette still smoldering between his lips. He took one last drag before flicking it away, the ember disappearing into the darkness outside. "I know," he said, his voice a mix of resignation and cold determination. "It's been my mission for years. To end the Yakuza and to incarcerate the ones involved. But I'll make sure that before that happens... Sasuke knows the truth."

---

 

Itachi thrusted inside Izumi with controlled rage. His teeth gritted as he tried to ignore the betrayal that stung his soul with every pump of his hips. Her eyes were closed, lost in pleasure, oblivious to the turmoil raging within him. The room was dimly lit by a single candle, casting eerie shadows on the wall, dancing with every movement they made. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, punctuated by the occasional gasp or moan.

He pulled her hair, forcing her to arch her back as he claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss. Their bodies moved together in a rhythm that was almost violent in its passion, the desk was Izumi's only support while he ravished her. Her buttocks was red with the marks of Itachi's hand, slapping her in sync with his thrusts. It stinged so bad, but she liked it. After been with Itachi for so long, she had gotten used to rough sex. It was the only kind of sex he gave her.

Itachi was trying to fuck his anger into her. He needed to control himself. Keep his head cold. But with every stroke, the image of Sakura and Sasuke kept appearing. That fucking pink haired slut! She was ruinning everything for him. Sasuke was his weapon, his! And she dared to steal him from him. Izumi's screams got louder, signaling she was close. He felt the usual annoyance at her lack of self-control, but pushed it aside. He kept thrusting harder and harder, grabbing her hips, watching her round ass shake with every imapct with his pelvis. He was getting close too.

He pusher her until her upper body hit the desk's, he pulled out and came on her back. His juices flowed down her spine and she quivered from the intensity of her own orgasm. Itachi gave a few more pulls to his shaft and zipped up his pants without bothering to clean her up. He looked at her over his shoulder, his gaze cold and detached. "Get dressed," he ordered, his voice as sharp as the blade of a sword.

Izumi slowly incorporated herself, legs trembling. She slowly grabbed her red panties, who were still hanging in one of her ancles. She felt the warm stickiness of Itachi's cum on her skin, a constant reminder of their encounter. Her heart was racing, not just from the intense sex but also from the fear of his unpredictable mood swings. She slipped her panties back on, wincing at the stickiness.

Itachi was know sitting in a sofa, watching tokyo cityscape, his mind racing with thoughts. He knew he couldn't let Sasuke's affection for Sakura cloud his judgment. It was a weakness that could bring down the entire Uchiha operation. He had to eliminate the problem. But how?

"I need to tell you something." Izumi's voice was small, barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. Itachi's gaze remained fixed on the city, the lights blurring with the rain. "Sakura threatened me. She wants me to give her information about you and your movements."

Itachi's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The bitch had gone too far. "What did you tell her?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

"Nothing! I am loyal to you, always! She thinks she's untouchable now because she's engaged to your brother, but she's wrong!" Spit flew from her mouth as she spoke, the anger and fear mixing in her voice.

Itachi's eyes kept looking at the night city. Interesting. This could be useful. He smirked. He slowly got up and walked to where Izumi was standing. "I understand," he said, his voice smooth like silk. "You did good, and you also gave me an idea." He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I need you to keep her close. Play along with her games. Tell her what she wants to know, but only what I tell you to."

Izumi nodded earnestly, her eyes searching Itachi's for any sign of approval. She craved his affection like a drug, and she would do anything to keep him by her side. "I will," she murmured, her voice trembling with the weight of her promise. "Whatever you want."

Itachi smirked wider. That's it. He loved this. Having power over everything and everyone. Sakura wanted to play games, then let the games begin.

---

 

Rain tapped rhythmically against the tall windows of the estate. Inside, Hanabi sat behind her glass desk, her fingers tense around a crystal glass of vodka. Across from her, Yuri Romanoff stood by the window, the glow of the city washing over his sharp features and his steel blue eyes. He lit a cigar, exhaling slowly, eyes never leaving the skyline.

“They are weak,” Yuri said in Russian-accented Japanese. “The Uchihas, the Hyuugas, even your sweet sister. Too much emotion. Emotion gets you killed.”

Hanabi didn’t flinch. “They underestimate me because I am young. Because I wear dresses. Because I married you.”

He chuckled lowly. “No, I married you, Hanabi. And you wear power like a second skin now.”

She leaned forward, tapping the dossier labeled UCHIHA – Internal Intel. “Itachi’s losing grip. I know because of my sister that the mole is Sakura Haruno. And there’s more—Ino Yamanaka and Sai are working with Interpol. It’s only a matter of time before they bring hell to their doorstep.”

Yuri approached slowly, setting the cigar down. He stood behind her chair, placing one firm hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need their empire, zvezda moya. You are building your own.”

“But it’s not enough.” Her voice dropped. “Not yet.”

Yuri’s grip tightened slightly. “Then let’s crush them. You say the word, and their docks burn tomorrow. We send a message.”

She looked up at him, something fierce and conflicted in her lavender eyes. “Hinata will never forgive me.”

“Forgiveness is a privilege for those who survive.” He knelt beside her now, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Your father sold you to me. I took a girl and gave him back a queen. But make no mistake—you made yourself powerful. And now, you decide who lives.”

Hanabi looked back down at the intel. “I want Hinata out. Safe. She’s... my only line left to who I used to be.”

Yuri nodded once, solemnly. “Then we spare her. But everyone else?” He smiled, cold and controlled. “Everyone else is meat.”

---

 

The silk felt like ice against her skin. Sakura sat still, drowning in ivory lace and shadowed thoughts. The mirror reflected a vision of elegance—her kimono sculpted to perfection, her face painted into porcelain serenity—but her eyes were hollow. Around her, maids whispered and fluttered like nervous doves, tugging at the veil, adjusting the train, careful not to disturb the fragile quiet radiating from the bride.

She didn’t feel beautiful. She felt buried.

This wasn’t love. This was a transaction. A sentence. A sacrifice.

Two weeks since she’d last bled. Three since she’d begged for a way out. Now she was marrying the man who had claimed her body and bound her soul. Sasuke had smiled when she told him about the pregnancy. A soft, terrifying smile. She hadn’t seen him smile like that before. It wasn’t joy. It was possession.

But this wasn’t the time for shaking hands or shaking hearts. It was time to play the part.

The traditional japanese garden gleamed in silver and black. Cherry-blossoms decorated the scene. Pristine architecture, crystal light, and controlled extravagance. Only the elite had been invited—CEOs, politicians, diplomats, all in tailored suits and careful masks. The Uchiha were moguls in public, monsters in private.

Among them, Itachi stood silent, sharp in a dark suit. Eyes like razors behind a calm exterior. He watched Sakura not as a sister-in-law, but as a threat barely contained. He knew something was off—he always did. Yet he allowed the wedding. For now.

Near him, Hanabi sipped champagne, her husband Yuri Romanoff close behind. She looked like royalty, cold and poised. The Russian beside her, taller than most, wore silence like a weapon. He said little, but his glances weighed heavily on every guest. Hanabi had ambition in her gaze—today wasn’t about the bride, it was about power. Expansion. The merging of empires.

Hinata, in contrast, looked like a ghost in lavender. She watched her sister, her cousin, her enemies—and most of all, Sakura. Her expression flickered between sympathy, guilt and defeat. She knew something the others didn’t. Or at least suspected. Her deal with Itachi hung in the air like fog: if she gave him the mole’s name, he would help her find Naruto. But would he really?

Her eyes scanned the crowd. She couldn't imagine Naruto was already there. Under a mask. Standing at Gaara’s side.

Menma—the man who once was Naruto—stood motionless in the corner like a sentry. Hidden in plain sight. His heart beat faster when he saw her. Sakura. Dressed in white, marrying the man he wanted dead. His fists clenched beneath his sleeves. Gaara noticed, but said nothing. This wasn’t the time.

Naruto also saw her. Hinata. His beautiful Hinata. She was so close, yet so far. His hands itched with the need to hold her, to pull her away from this monstrous world he had been forced into. But he couldn’t. He was Menma now, the loyal right-hand to Gaara, the feared enforcer of the Sabaku-No. The one who would bring the Uchihas down from the inside. If fortune was on his side, maybe one day, he would be with her again. Maybe. He prayed for it. He felt his eyes water, but he could not, would not shed a tear. Naruto had to stay buried.

Gaara watched the ceremony unfold with predator’s eyes. He had plans. The Sharingan shipment, the fall of the Uchiha, alliances through chaos. But seeing Sakura up there, a queen in a cage, he couldn't help but wonder if she would survive this game with her soul intact. He was eager to get her alone. She was a puzzle he wanted to figure out and maybe who knows. Something more could come out of it. Gaara smirked.

Ino, seated near the front in a blush-toned dress, clapped politely as the vows were spoken. Her heart was in her throat. Her best friend was marrying into the devil’s family. Sai wasn’t here. He said it was too risky. She didn’t blame him—but she also didn’t trust him entirely.

Ino looked around, feeling eyes on her. Was she being watched? Was this all falling apart? Sakura's parents were there, oh so happy. Ignoring the reality of this whole charade. The reality of who Sasuke Uchiha truly was. Sakura told her that Sasuke had helped them by giving them a whole penthouse and a well payed job to Kizashi. Jesus... Sasuke made sure her parents were in the palm of his hand. She looked at Sakura. She was the most beautiful woman on earth at the moment.

Her ivory kimono, exhuded elegance and beauty. It was like watching a doll walk down the aisle, her expression a perfect blend of innocence and obedience. Sasuke watched her approach, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Sakura felt like a doll, a beautiful, expensive plaything dressed for a man who tortured her in every way. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out of her chest, but she couldn’t let it show.

Sasuke held her hands now. He was devastatingly handsome as usual. He wore a black fitted suit with silver enbroidery with clan motifs, he looked as if he was a prince. Irony.

The crowd disappeared. He looked at her like she was both salvation and anchor. His voice, when he spoke the vows, was calm. Gentle, even. And that terrified her more than any threat. There was a part of him that believed this was love. A twisted, obsessive, possessive kind. He didn’t know what to do with real affection—but he would burn the world to keep her.

Sakura said her vows.

Not because she meant them.

Because she had to.

The rings came. Then more words from the priest, she could hear none. She did everything as if she was a robot. The crowd's whispers and glances were a buzz in the background. She felt numb, a doll in a play she never wanted to act in. Finally, it was done. They were pronounced husband and wife. Sasuke leaned in and she obliged, kissing him with a passionless kiss, her eyes closed tightly. It was all a lie. A beautiful, tragic lie.

As the couple kissed, cameras flashed, and the orchestra played, Sakura stood tall and still.

But inside?

She was building her walls.

This was the beginning of her transformation. No longer prey, not yet predator.

A bride.

A spy.

A mother.

A weapon.

And all her enemies were watching.

Chapter 5: Kill or be Killed

Summary:

*lyubov = Love

*moya koroleva = My queen

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

Sakura stood naked in front of the large mirror in the hotel's room bathroom. Sasuke had decided to spend their honeymoon in Dubai. They were staying at one of the many resorts that were owned by the Uchiha. Of course they were given the best suite and accomodations. Her hands gently caressed her currently flat belly, as if trying to feel the life inside her. There was a fight inside her... there was still time to get rid of it; she didn't have to carry this burden. This was the result of sexual abuse, cohersion, manipulation and lies. Would she hate looking at them? Would they be like Sasuke? She closed her eyes and sighed. No. She couldn't. This was not her nature.

She opened her eyes and looked at herself again. Things are even more complicated now. She had to protect herself and her baby from all of this shit. She made up her mind. This was the only way. She put on a black lace robe and walked out of the bathroom. Sasuke was sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone, seemingly bored. He glanced up at her, his eyes lingering on her body. She looked straight into his eyes, determination in them.

"You win." Sakura's voice was firm and steady as she approached Sasuke, her resolve palpable. "I won't survive if I don't learn everything about this business, everything about this world... you said you would teach me..."

Sasuke's thumb paused on the screen of his phone, his gaze rising to meet hers. A flicker of surprise, perhaps even admiration, crossed his face. He set the phone aside, leaning back on the plush pillows of the king-sized bed. "I did, but once you do this... a part of you will have to die. You'll have to kill it."

Sakura nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She knew what he meant; the innocence, the purity of her heart that had been tainted by his touch. But she was ready to embrace the darkness, if it meant survival for her and the child growing within her. Sasuke nodded slowly and smiled softly.

"But you gotta promise me something." The pink haired beauty's voice was low but firm, "You'll protect our child from all of this."

Sasuke looked at her with a seriousness that she had never seen before, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. He knew the kind of world he had brought her into, and the kind of legacy he bore. But he had promised to protect her, and he was a man of his word. "I swear it." His voice was a gentle murmur, but the promise was as solid as the steel grip he had on the world outside their door.

Sakura slowly removed her robe, letting it pool around her feet, revealing her naked body. She knew that Sasuke was watching her, his eyes taking in every inch of her, and she didn't shy away from his gaze. Instead, she let the warmth of her determination fill her cheeks. She climbed onto the bed, straddling him. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling the warmth and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palms. "I want to finish my studies Sasuke. You will not confine me to your shadow. From now on I am your equal in every sence of the word."

Sasuke's smile grew, and he gently placed his hands on her waist, feeling the slight curve of her belly. "You are, Sakura. But now, I will teach you how to wield your power."

Their eyes locked in understanding. This was not a world of rainbows and unicorns, but one of shadows and blood. A world where the only way to survive was to become as fierce as the storm itself. Sasuke's fingers trailed up to her neck, gripping it softly. "You will learn to be feared, not just respected." His voice was a seductive whisper, filled with the promise of power. His hands burned on her skin. She remembered all the times he used those same hands to cause her pain, but ironically he had also protected her with those same hands. She hated him for all of it, but she knew she needed him.

Sasuke slowly leaned forward, almost as to not scare her away. His thumb stroked her cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender despite the stark reality of their situation. His cold lips pressed against hers in a silent promise that sent a shiver down her spine. Sakura hated when he was gentle, almost as much as she hated when he was rough. It messed with her emotions, making her feel like there was more, but there couldn't be... not after all, right? His movements were deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers, as if to say 'See? I can be good to you too.' She looked at his features, his dark eyes. It was unfathomable, how such a beautiful could have such a darkness. Sakura looked at him in silence for a moment, before the question slipped her mouth.

"Do you love me?" Sakura's voice was a whisper, her eyes searching Sasuke's for a glimpse of genuine emotion.

Sasuke stopped his movements, as if he had been punched in the gut. Love? He didn't know anything about it, he didn't even know how that would feel or look like. He never received love, except from his mother and he barely remembered her warmth. All his life, it had been about power, survival and vengeance. His eyes searched hers for a moment, looking for the right words, the ones that would keep her by his side. But she needed the truth, and she deserved that much.

"What is love? I... don't know how to do that. People say that love hurts... I hurted you before. They say love is to protect and to want the best for the other person. I want to keep you safe, Sakura. And if that means giving you power, I will. Do I love you?" Sasuke's voice was low, the question hanging in the air like a heavy weight. He searched her eyes for any signs of hope, for anything that would indicate that he was not a complete monster in her eyes.

Sakura's expression softened, in a mix of pity and frustration. He couldn't even understand himself. In a different life and circumstances, Sasuke could have been a man that she would definetly feel attracted to, but now he was just a means to an end. A means to survive. She leaned in and kissed him back, not with love but with a strange kind of loyalty. "It's okay, Sasuke." she whispered against his lips, "But I want you to learn. I want us to learn together." She needed him to believe, he loved her.

Sasuke felt a strange warmth spread in his chest, something he had never felt before. It was alien, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, as if trying to hold onto the feeling. "Alright, we'll learn together." His voice was gruff with emotion that he didn't quite understand. Sakura smiled. Yes. That's it, brake.

She kissed him again, this time passionately. It was strange feeling his body respond to her touch, feeling the warmth of his arms around her, his hands exploring her body. He had never been like this with anyone else. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment, for someone to break through the walls he had built around himself. She could feel his heart beating faster, his breathing becoming erratic. It was as if she had reached deep, beneath the power and the coldness to find the human he had buried so long ago. She started to remove his white shirt, his tattoos exposed, twitching with his arms and back muscles as they kissed. Sasuke let himself be moved by her, his hands running over her skin, feeling her warmth and softness. It was a stark contrast to the coldness of his own body.

She caressed his broad chest and moved further down his sculpted abs, until she reached his black tailored pants. Her nimble fingers unbuckled his belt, her eyes never leaving his. Sasuke's grip on her tightened, a mix of desire and dominance. He knew she was strong, but he also knew she had a soft side that he had yet to completely destroy. He allowed her to take the lead for now, watching her every move with a fierce hunger in his eyes.

The pants were disgarded to the floor, revealing Sasuke's arousal. Sakura took it in her hand, stroking it gently. She knew what he liked, what made him moan, and she used that knowledge to her advantage. He was hers to manipulate now. She kissed her way down his body, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she took him into her mouth. His eyes rolled back, a low growl escaping his throat. It was a power play, and she was winning.

"God, Sakura." Sasuke's breath hitched as she worked her magic, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He had never allowed anyone to take control like this, but somehow, with her, it felt right. Her warm mouth engulfed him, her tongue dancing along his length with a skill that left him trembling. The way she looked up at him, with those emerald eyes filled with determination and a hint of something else, something more... it was intoxicating. She slowly swirled her tongue around the hole, collecting the salty precum; then took him deep into her mouth again, gagging, making him groan.

Sasuke was lost. The sensation of Sakura's warm mouth was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had always been the one in control, the one calling the shots, but here she was, taking command, making him feel... alive. His hands found themselves in her hair, not pushing her down, but rather guiding her rhythm. He watched as she took him in, her eyes watering slightly with the effort, but she never wavered. He was hers in this moment. She kept going until she felt his balls twitch, announcing he was close. She suddenly stopped, letting him slip from her mouth with a wet pop. At this point, Sasuke's head was leaned backwards, his closed shut suddenly opened, at the loss of her warm mouth. His chest was heaving with anticipation. Sakura crowled back up, until she was straddling his waist again. She started to rub herself on his cock, not letting him enter her yet.

Her juices coated him, and she watched his expression, enjoying the way he was at her mercy. It was a heady feeling, one she hadn't expected to experience with Sasuke. His eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth twitching in a silent demand. Sakura smirked, feeling a thrill of power at his loss of control. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, her breath hot against his neck. "Do you want me to make you feel good, Sasuke?"

He growled in response, his hands tightening on her hips. He leaned forward, grabbing her waist firmly to turn her, but she stopped him by pushing agains his chest. "No. This time... you are mine." She sat back on her heels, her eyes never leaving his. "I decide when." Her voice was filled with a confidence she hadn't had before.

With a frustrated groan, Sasuke relented. He laid back on the bed, his erection standing tall and proud between them. Sakura's eyes never left his as she reached for the nightstand drawer, pulling out a bottle of lubricant. She knew what she had to do to keep herself safe, and she wasn't going to let his pride get in the way. She squeezed a generous amount onto her hand and coated Sasuke's cock, watching his reaction. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were filled with a mix of lust and anger. Good. She needed him off balance.

Sakura straddled Sasuke again, but this time she was in control. She positioned herself over his erection, feeling the tip nudging against her entrance. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for what was to come. Sasuke's hands reached for her, but she slapped them away. "No," she said firmly, "Watch."

He obeyed, his eyes glued to where their bodies were about to become one. Sakura took another deep breath and began to lower herself, feeling the stretch as he filled her up. Sasuke's eyes widened with a mix of pleasure and surprise at her sudden boldness. She took her time, savoring the sensation of power she had over him. When she had taken all of him, she began to move, setting her own rhythm. First slowly, then gradually picking up the pace. His hands reached for her breasts, but she slapped them away again, "Not yet." she murmured through gritted teeth.

Her long hair cascaded on her breast as she rode him, the room filled with the sound of their ragged breathing. Sasuke's eyes were locked on her, his expression a mix of anger and arousal. She felt powerful, like a storm brewing within her. His hands gripped the bed sheets tightly, his body taut with the need to touch her, to claim her, but she wasn't giving him that satisfaction yet. She was the storm now, and she would dictate the weather. She slowly increased the pase, the tip of his cock pressing on a particular spot within her, that made her see stars. Oh yes, she knew her body, she knew what she liked, and she was going to take it from him.

Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of power and submission. Sakura leaned forward, her hands on his chest, her nails digging in slightly. She watched his eyes widen with surprise and pleasure as she hit the right spot, making him grit his teeth. She was in charge now. Her walls tightened around him, her muscles contracting. She knew he was close, and she was going to make him beg for it.

Sasuke's eyes bore into her, a silent demand for more. She leaned down, her breath hot against his ear. "Do you want me to cum for you, Sasuke?"

"Yes," he hissed, his voice strained with desire.

Sakura's smile grew wicked as she leaned down and whispered, "Say it. Beg me."

"I want you to cum for me, Sakura." His voice was hoarse, filled with desperation. "Please!" It was a word he rarely uttered, especially in the throes of passion, but here he was, begging for her to give in to the pleasure he could see building in her eyes.

With a smug smile, she began to ride him harder, her hips moving with the precision of a seasoned seductress. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, each one building upon the last until she could feel the storm within her reaching its peak. "Is this what you want?" she taunted, her voice breathy and filled with challenge.

Sasuke's eyes flashed with something akin to admiration before the haze of passion took over. He gripped the sheets so tightly, his knuckles turned white. "Yes," he grunted, "Just like that."

Sakura's smirk grew, and she grabbed his neck with mild pressure. Not enough to choke him, but enough for him to feel it. Her hips moved faster and faster, her inner walls tightening around his shaft. She felt him swell within her, and she knew he was close. She leaned down and whispered, "You're going to cum for me, Sasuke. You're going to cum and admit that you need me."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed at her challenge, but the pleasure was too intense to deny. He felt the storm within her, the power she had unleashed, and it was intoxicating. With a roar, he bucked his hips upward, meeting her thrusts with an equally fierce passion. His hands moved to her waist, guiding her, urging her to go faster. The pleasure was building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume them both.

Sakura felt the walls of her resolve cracking under the pressure of his need. The warmth of his body, the strength of his grip, the desperation in his eyes... she had never seen this side of him before. It was raw, primal, and she found herself responding to it in ways she hadn't anticipated. Her breath grew ragged as she moved faster and faster, her orgasm approaching like a freight train. She could feel the tension coiling in her stomach, the heat spreading through her core.

Suddenly, she was there. Her body convulsed around Sasuke's cock, her muscles clenching tightly as she cried out. A white light behind their eyes. Sasuke's grip on her tightened, his own release imminent. "Sakura," he moaned. He didn't growled, he didn't hummed, he fucking moaned. His eyes never leaving hers as he thrust into her one final time, filling her with his hot seed. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and for a brief second, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than just survival. "I need you. I-I need you." He stuttered out, his body shaking with the force of his climax.

Sakura let out a breathy laugh, feeling the power shift between them. She had never seen Sasuke so... human. So vulnerable. It was a strange sensation, but it was also a victory. "You need me," she whispered, almost to herself, as she continued to ride him through her climax. His eyes searched hers, and she knew he was waiting for her to say something, anything to confirm that she had heard him.

Sasuke looked at her as if she had become a goddess. "I do." He murmured, the truth spilling from his lips as his orgasm subsided. His eyes searched hers for any sign of pity or disgust, but all he saw was a spark of something new, something he hadn't seen before. Sakura's head hid on his shoulder, while kissing his neck.

"Good." Sakura whispered into his ear, her voice filled with the satisfaction of victory. She felt his body relax beneath hers, the storm of passion subsiding.

---

 

Hinata was sitting on what used to be her father's office, behind the desk. She was looking into files and documents with a frown on her face. The office was now her and Hanabi's domain as the heads of the Hyuga clan and she had a lot of work to do. She looked into all the businesses that her father had with the Uchihas, looking for anything that could be used against Itachi so he could keep his word about helping her to find out if Naruto was killed or not. Her heart was racing and her mind was a mess. The door opened and Neji entered with a neutral look on his face. She looked at him deeply, since she knew that he was the least happy about Hanabi and her taking over the clan.

"Is there something you need Neji?" Hinata's voice was firm, but she couldn't hide the underlying tension.

Neji chuckled. "Look at you. You have taken the part well, I see." He leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest.

Hinata narrowed her eyes, while leaning back into the chair. "I am doing what I have to do, to end this madness. Father was a fool to trust the Uchiha. I don't want to be here anymore that you want. I just need to find Naruto, and I'll walk away. You can compete with Hanabi if you like. I don't want any part of it." Her voice was filled with a mix of anger and sadness.

"What if Naruto is really dead? What will you do then?" Neji's question hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Hinata's eyes snapped to him, the pain of the possibility etched in her features. "Then I will make sure Sasuke and all the Uchihas pay for their sins."

Neji nodded. "Very well. If that's the case dear cousin, I'll help you. I don't want Hanabi taking over and defile our traditions with her 'russian' filth. I will help you with the Uchihas and you will help me to get Hanabi out of the way."

"And why would I do that? You're the reason why Naruto got caught in the first place! If you would have let me go..."

"You were willing to forsaken family over a man!" Neji's voice grew sharp, his eyes flashing with anger. "But now, you speak of vengeance as if you have any right to it. You have no idea what you're getting into, Hinata." Her eyes widen in surprise, not expecting Neji to yell at her.

"You have no idea how this world works. You think you can end it? As long as humanity exist, there will be greed. As long as there's greed, there will be injustice. As long as there's injustice, Yakuza will prevail. That is the way of the world." Neji's voice was cold, his eyes unyielding as he spoke of the harsh realities of their world. "Your Naruto, should have known better. Itachi is out for blood and I'll be damned if I let him end the Hyuuga. Your father worked hard for us to be one of the pillars of Konoha, Japan as a whole. And you want to squander it? No. I don't think so."

Hinata felt a surge of anger rise within her. "You don't get to speak about Naruto like that! He's not just some 'man' to me!" She stood up, slamming her fists on the desk. "He was my husband, and far better than any of you for that matter."

Neji laughed humorlessly. "Ah, so you still believe in fairy tales. Love, marriage, loyalty... all just tools in the Yakuza's game." He pushed off the doorframe and approached the desk, leaning over it to look directly at her. "And right now, you're about to witness it."

The doors to the office burst open and a man with short blond hair styled backwards, entered, along with another one with piercings all over his face and spiky orange hair. Both wearing tailored suits and a cold look in their eyes, they exuded a sense of power that was palpable. "It's about fucking time we had a little chat." The blond said, his voice as sharp as a blade.

"Good evening, Hinata-San. Best if you come with us without making a scene," the man with orange hair said, his smile not reaching his eyes. His companion, the blonde one, stepped closer, his hand resting on the butt of a gun in his belt.

Hinata looked at them with watery eyes, "Hanabi will find out about this."

"It doesn't matter. By the time she does, it will be to late. She is busy playing at 'Yakuza boss girl' I am not." Neji smirked, his voice filled with spite. "Now, come with us. We have much to discuss." He gestured to the blond man, who took a step forward, his hand still hovering over his gun.

---

 

Hanabi was leaned against a black BMW watching Konoha Port from afar. She was sucking a lollipop with Yuri right beside her. "This will be a great wedding gift for the Uchiha don't you think, *lyubov'?" Hanabi smiled almost innocently to her husband.

Yuri chuckled. "Oh I'm sure they will be very surprised *moya koroleva." He leaned closer to her, whispering into her ear, "You are a cunning one, using your charm to get what you want."

Hanabi got on her tip toes and put her arms around his neck. "That's why you like me so much." She said with a smug smile. Yuri smirked, "And why I married you."

They shared a deep kiss, when suddenly a huge explotion could be seen coming from the port. Both Hanabi and Yuri turned to look at the fiery inferno with proud eyes. "Since the Uchiha like fire so much... let them have it." She smirked widely. Japan would be hers and the Hyuuga will be at the top. Once more.

---

 

Sakura stood in the middle of the desert, a Beretta 92FS in her hand; along with some men that Sasuke had hired. They had placed a few target practice for her. She wore a tight black outfit that hugged her body, her pink hair tied back in a tight bun, not even a strand moving with the harsh desert wind. She had to learn to shoot, to fight, and to survive in the Yakuza world. Her pregnancy was not yet noticeable, but that would soon change and she will be at most danger. Her eyes were focused on the target ahead, a human shaped silhouette.

Sasuke stood behind her, almost intimately. "You kill or you'll be killed. There is nothing else. Do you understand?" His voice was low, a stark contrast to the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder.

She nodded. Her eyes focused. 

Sasuke nodded in response. "Good. Let's begin."

Chapter 6: Broken Chrysalis

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

Yuri and Hanabi came back to the Hyuuga manor elated. They had officially started war against the Uchiha. One of their ports and product had been blew up in flames and Hanabi could only imagine Itachi and Sasuke Uchiha's faces when they found out. But she was no fool, the consecuences would be vicious. She had to thred carefully know that an open war for dominance has been declared. She knew that she had to keep her cool and be ready for whatever shit storm was going to come next.

She got off the car and saw her family's butler alongside a few maids, standing outside of the mansion. They were fidgeting nervously, their faces as pale as the moon in a starless night. The moment they saw her, they rushed forward. The butler spoke, his voice quivering, "Hanabi-sama, something has happened."

Her heart sank as she braced herself for the news. "What is it?" she asked, her tone as sharp as a honed katana.

"Hinata-sama left accompanied by two mysterious gentleman and Neji-sama. She seemed displeased and frankly quiet... scared. Neji-sama told us that everything was alright, that they would only go for a little bit of air," the butler managed to say, his voice thick with anxiety.

"And you allowed it?!" Yuri's russian accented japanese, snarled with barely contained rage, eyes narrowing to slits. They had just returned from orchestrating a major hit on the Uchiha's operations, and now they had to deal with this. The butler, a man who had seen the rise and fall of empires, took a step back under her fiery gaze.

"We had no choice, they were armed and... and Neji-sama assured us that everything was under control," he stuttered, sweat beads forming on his brow. The maids behind him nodded in unison, their eyes darting back and forth like trapped animals.

Hanabi was silent. Her face a blank canvas as she processed the information. The air around her grew thick with tension, as if the very fabric of the night was bending under the weight of her thoughts. The butler and the maids shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, not daring to speak until she broke the silence. "Describe these men," she finally said, her voice cool and calm, yet carrying the weight of a thousand storms.

"One of them had blonde platinum hair, styled backwards and dark eyes, the other one had spiky short orange hair and piercings on both sides of his nose, ears and under his lower lip." The butler spoke, his voice slightly more composed as he tried to give a detailed description of the strangers.

Hanabi swallowed. Hidan and Pein. The Uchiha clan's enforcers. Her heart raced, but she kept her composure. "Did Neji-sama seem under duress?" she questioned, her mind racing with possible scenarios. The butler nodded gravely, "No, Hanabi-sama. He seemed to be very calm."

Yuri's eyes flashed with understanding, "They're playing a game," he murmured in a low, dangerous tone. "Neji's with them willingly." Hanabi's mind reeled. Could it be a trap? A betrayal? Or perhaps Neji had found an opportunity to negotiate peace? No. Neji, didn't want peace, he wanted retribuition and power. He is now allied with Itachi and Hinata was in the crossfire, again.

Hanabi screamed with rage and sadness, like a trapped lioness in a steel cage. Soon her scream, turned into a anguished wail that echoed within the manor's walls. Yuri took a step towards her, but she waved him off. She didn't need his comfort, she needed answers. Her sister was the only good thing the Hyuuga had in them. They not always saw eye to eye, but she loved her. They had shared, sadness, anger and even happiness together. Hinata used to be her protector when they were little, her confident. If Itachi had touched one hair on her head, she'd rip his throat out.

Hanabi stopped her cries and inhaled deeply. She had to stay cold, she had to stay in control. Her emotions could not get the best of her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to come up with ideas. "I need to talk to Sasuke Uchiha and his wife. Now." She demanded, turning towards Yuri.

"You want to talk to your enemy's brother?" Yuri's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Something tells me... that Sasuke is also Itachi's enemy. The enemy of my enemy, is my friend. Contact him." Hanabi's words were clipped, the decision made with a swiftness that matched the decisiveness in her eyes. She started to head up to the mansion, when she spoke again, "And I want to find out why our men failed to protect my sister when she needed it the most."

---

 

Sai was looking into some file containing more information regarding the Uchiha organization. Bank accounts, movements, assets, everything. His eyes scanned the documents with a meticulous precision that only a seasoned detective and agent would have. Kakashi was doing the same and also planning when would be best to approach Sasuke in order to talk properly. Suddenly a hurried knock on the door was heard. Sai and Kakashi got on high alert, each grabbing their gun from their waist's holder.

Kakashi stood by the side of the door, back against the wall, getting in position in case of an unexpected attack. Sai went to the door slowly, placing the gun against the door and asked in a commanding voice, "Who is it?"

"It's me idiot! Open up!" Ino's voice was muffled through the door, urgency seeping into every syllable. Sai and Kakashi exhaled in relief, lowering their weapons. Sai opened the door to reveal Ino, flushed with worry. She slipped into the room, her eyes darting around before she whispered, "Did you see the news?"

They hadn't. The two had been so engrossed in their intel that the outside world had ceased to exist for them. "What happened?" Kakashi asked, his voice calm despite the knot forming in his stomach.

Ino looked at the man with a mix of anger and confusion, "Who is this?" she spat out, pointing at Kakashi.

"This is Kakashi," Sai replied calmly, "He's an interpol agent. He's helping me with the case. Ino what happened?"

Ino took a deep breath, before grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. The news flashed to life, displaying images of the burning Konoha port. The newscaster spoke with a sense of urgency, detailing the destruction and chaos that had unfolded. Sai and Kakashi's eyes widen in shock. However did this, the message was clear... war against the Uchiha. Everybody knew that this port belonged to the Uchiha, both on the underground world and in the business world. Doing this was a challenge that would not go without retaliation.

Ino looked at both men with urgency, "This happened last night."

Both men looked at her still surprised by this display. Ino continued, "Sakura told me that the Uchihas were going to receive a new batch of product not to long ago, and now this shit happens. Who do you think they gonna blame for it? Itachi already doesn't trust her and she is on thin ice with Sasuke even though she married him. We have to get her out and protect her, now!"

"And how are we going to do that? If they catch us before we're fully ready to engage we are fucked and if they see her acting suspicious she is fucked. She is safer with Sasuke, wether we like it or not." Sai said with a furrowed brow, his eyes still glued to the TV screen, watching the chaos unfold.

"This 'Sakura' is the girl you told me about, right? Poor girl. She is trapped due to circumstances, no matter what." Kakashi spoke, his voice laced with a hint of empathy that didn't quite match the cold steel of his eyes. He had seen enough of the world's darker shades to know that innocents often found themselves in the crossfire of power struggles.

"Why do I have the feeling that you couldn't give two rat's ass what happens to Sakura? Everytime I suggest to actually do something you back down. I don't give a fuck about your goals or bringin the Uchiha to justice, or whatever fucking excuse you use to let this shit go on. Sakura getting out unscathed is the only thing I care about, so get your shit together or I'll find someone who will actually help." Ino's voice was a whip crack, lashing out in a frenzy of anger and fear.

Sai took a moment, letting her words sink in. He knew Ino was right; they couldn't let Sakura bear the brunt of this mess alone. "Fine," he sighed, "I'll talk to my contact. Maybe we can set something up, but we have to be careful. If Itachi gets suspicious, we could all end up at the bottom of that same damned river."

"There's no need. I'll go meet them. They in Dubai, right? Honeymoon. Cute." Kakashi spoke almost bored, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I could use a tan, and it's time for a little vacation."

Sai looked at him with slight concern, "You sure? How will Sasuke react when you see him?"

"I need to talk to him either way. Why not use this chance? At the same time I can check on Sakura. Make sure she's alright." Kakashi's eyes held a glint of determination that was unmissable. He had his own reasons for talking to Sasuke.

Sai nodded, his mind racing with the implications of this unannounced meeting. "Alright, I'll set it up. But be careful, we're playing with fire here."

"We have been playing with fire. Might as well get burn." Kakashi said with a smirk as he packed his suitcase with the essentials, his eyes never leaving Sai's for a second, as if daring him to argue.

Ino nodded silently. This was not a bad plan. This guy was Interpol, he had to have the skills to sneak in and out without causing a scene. And if he could talk to Sasuke and make sure Sakura was safe... it could be their chance to get her out safely. She watched as Kakashi packed with swift, efficient movements, his eyes never leaving Sai's for long. It was clear he had his own agenda here, and she couldn't blame him. Everyone had their own battles to fight in this messed up world.

---

 

They had been in Dubai for almost two weeks, and Sasuke had kept his promise about teaching her how his world works. He had a few businesses to attend to with a few business men, both legaly and Yakuza matters. She stayed quiet and observed everything. Sasuke had a way with words and power that was both terrifying and fascinating. He could turn a no to a yes without even raising his voice. She could see why he was feared and respected. He also had been teaching her how to shoot and use self-defence. Everyday her body got a little stronger and she liked it, she felt more powerful, more in control. 'If something goes wrong, and you get taken, you gotta survive until I get you. You gotta fight back until I get there... or until you get out yourself' Sasuke had said this to her in one of ther training sessions. It was like he knew something bad was going to happen and it made sense... they were Yakuza after all. Something always happened.

Little by little she learned the Yakuza codes and business. The glamour and the horror. The glitz and the grime. The way Sasuke navigated through this world was like watching a shark in a sea of sharks. She had to admit, she was both terrified and impressed. The fear of what could happen to her, to him, to their baby grew everyday but she pushed it down. She had to be strong. For her and for her unborn child. She swore to them, that they would make it out of this and she intended to keep it.

Today they were in the middle of the desert again, some target practice was what Sasuke wanted to call it. It was hot and the sun was beating down on them like a hammer on an anvil. Sakura felt the heat almost unbareable but she didn't dare to show any sign of weakness infront of him. Sasuke handed her a gun and nodded towards the distant target. It was a silouette of a man, among others. The same ones they used everytime. Her gun handling and aim had improved, but Sasuke said she still needed more practice.

"This... this is an AR15 rifle. This is a thing of beauty," Sasuke showed her the gun, handling it with ease. It was sleek, black, and had an unmistakable aura of power and destruction. "This is the 'mag' magazine and inside... the bullets. Nothing says 'fuck around and find out' like a shot from this bad boy." He loaded the gun and handed it to Sakura.

He stood behind her and guided her into position, "Now the recoil can knock you out of balance if you don't stand right." His hands firm on her shoulders, his breath warm against her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that she tried to ignore. "Look through the sights, line up the shot." He whispered the instructions into her ear, his voice a seductive purr that didn't match the lethal weapon in her hands.

Sakura took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the heat radiating from his body. She raised the rifle and peered through the sights. The world narrowed to just her, the gun, and the target. She could feel Sasuke's eyes on her, watching her every move, judging her. She squeezed the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the desert like a declaration of war. The target jerked back as the bullet found its mark, dead center. Sasuke's grip on her tightened, his voice a low murmur of approval. "My baby is a natural." his smirked, his hands sliding down her arms to grasp her hands around the gun, showing her how to control the recoil.

Her cheeks flushed at the praise. Despite everything, she felt a strange thrill in making him proud. But she pushed it aside, focusing on the cold metal in her hands, the smell of gunpowder in the air. The men around her praised her with little 'hoots' and claps, but Sasuke's approval was the most evident. He walked towards the target practice and moved a little farther for her to try again. She had him on her sight. One shot, and it would be over. Sasuke had his back turned to her unaware of her intentions. She slowly raised the rifle again, and aimed towards where he was. He looked back to find her aiming to his way, but he didn't move or flinched. He looked back at her, almost testing her, challenging her. The men around them, looked at her as if waiting, their hands already in their guns, ready to intervene. Silence took place, with only the wind whispering at them.

She pulled the trigger. It hit her mark.

A whole on the head of the silluete, right next to Sasuke's head, appeared with the sound of the gunshot. Sasuke's demeanor didn't changed, his steel eyes still on her and a smirk on his lips. "You're improving," he said, his voice carrying through the desert's stillness. "But remember, in this world, it's not just about hitting the target. It's about knowing when to pull the trigger." His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment Sakura felt like she was looking down the barrel of her own fate.

She lowered the rifle and the men relaxed, holstering their weapons. Sakura's heart was racing, but she kept her expression neutral. Sasuke strode back to her, his movements fluid and confident. He took the rifle from her and handed her a bottle of water. She took a sip, trying to quench the dryness in her throat that wasn't entirely from the heat. "You're a fast learner," he said, his eyes searching hers. She looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm taking a liking to this." Sakura said with a smile, her eyes never leaving the rifle. She took another sip of water, trying to ignore the way Sasuke's gaze seemed to penetrate through her. She knew he was testing her, pushing her boundaries, but she had her own cards up her sleeve.

"Shooting? Or the power?," Sasuke's voice was a low rumble, his eyes still locked on hers, the question hanging in the air like a silent dare.

Sakura took a deep breath, her hand unsteady around the bottle of water. "Both," she replied, her voice firm. She knew Sasuke wasn't just talking about the firearm.

He smirked widen as he pulled her head closer by the back of her neck and kissed her hard, his expert tongue playing with hers. The heat of the desert was nothing compared to the fire burning within her. She knew she was playing a dangerous game with Sasuke, but she had to be ready for whatever came next. When he pulled away, she could see the hunger in his eyes, the desire to claim her fully, to show her who was in charge. But she had to keep her wits about her.

"I'm hungry. Should we have room service? I don't feel like going out." she said, trying to lighten the mood and also to get out of the scorching heat.

"A night in with you? How could I say no." Sasuke's smirk grew into a full-blown grin, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her back towards their hotel suite. The air was thick with the promise of more than just a meal. As they entered the cool oasis of the hotel, the contrast from the desert heat made her skin prickle with goosebumps. They were heading to the elevator, when Sasuke got a call from his cell.

She saw him answer and soon his relaxed smiled, turned into a cold frown. Sakura knew that look.

He was fucking pissed.

---

 

Gaara was sitted on his desk, when he got the news from one of his men. Konoha Port blew up, but not only that, his cut was part of the product that arrived on that port. His eyes face remained calm but inside he was livid. Who the fuck would do something like that. Could it be the Uchiha's did this themselves to not give him his part? An inside job? No. Itachi was a greedy bastard above all else. He would not fuck himself up. Sasuke? It could be. Sasuke made it very clear that he was going against his brother. But why would he risk so much? Unless he had something big planned.

Naruto was sitted on a long couch in front of his desk, without his mask. His blue eyes furrowed, trying to put two-and-two together. His mind raced with thoughts of who could have the balls to pull off such a bold move. It had to be someone with power and resources, and someone who had a vendetta against the Uchiha clan. Naruto's brain made click.

"The Hyuugas." Naruto spoke the name in a whisper. Fuck. Hinata would never agree to this. This had to be Neji or her sister. Shit... shit! This was bad. Really bad.

"You think they would challenge the Uchihas in such an open display?" Gaara asked, his tone deceptively calm, his eyes never leaving the screen of his phone as he read the details of the incident.

"Neji or Hanabi would." Naruto stood up pacing on the room. "They're the ones with the most to gain from this. With the Uchihas distracted by this, they could make their move." His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the muscles on his arms tensing as he worked through the possible scenarios in his head.

Gaara looked at him, his eyes calm, "You need to stay calm, Naruto. Emotions lead to mistakes." He knew that the news would cause concern. His ex-wife was involved somehow, even indirectly.

"Calm?!" Naruto exploded, "How can I be calm when the woman I love is in the middle of a fucking war!"

Gaara leaned back on his chair, his gaze never leaving Naruto's agitated figure. "I understand your concern, but we must be strategic. Reckless actions will only lead to unnecessary casualties." His voice was a steadying force, the calmness of a desert storm that waited to unleash its fury.

"I need to make sure she is ok. Please, Gaara." The desperation in Naruto's voice was palpable.

Gaara took a deep breath and called a number on his phone. After a few exchange of words, he hanged up. "Hinata was... apprently taken by the Uchiha's men. My contact informed me that she left with Hidan and Pein. Neji is with them as well."

Naruto felt like he had been punched in the gut. No. Not Hinata. This exactly why he dissapeared, to not get her involved. Naruto fell back on the couch, his head spinning.

.

.

.

Not Hinata.

Chapter 7: Converging Storms - Part I

Summary:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

Unknown location

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.

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Hinata looks around her with trepidation, trying not to to show to much of her fear. Her hands were tied up behind her with nylon strips; she could feel how it was scratching her wrists. They made sure she had barely any movement since thay did the same to her anckles, tied up to the front chair legs. She seemed to be in an abandoned barn somewhere. The place was practically empty except for them and a few piles of what she could asume were drug packages. She noticed that even though she had been abducted, they had not rough her up that much, which meant she might still be able to get out of this. Or maybe they had other plans. She looked at Neji, who was talking to Pein. She couldn't hear what they were saying since they were standing several feets away from her, but she noticed Hidan didn't took her eyes off of her. She tried to saty calm and not provoke them much. She was in clear disadvantage, so she had to play nice at least for a while.

Neji and Pein walked over her slowly, as if they had all the time in world. The sound of their shoes echoed through the barn, each step seeming to carry the weight of the grim reality of their situation. Pein's eyes bore into hers, his expression unreadable. "Itachi-Sama will be here shortly Hinata-Sama. I recomend to be on your best behavior. We would not want to cause more harm than we need to."

Her heart raced. Itachi was coming. No doubt to question her about the mole or even information about what was her sister planning. She looked at Neji with all the hatred she could muster, "So this is your plan? Work for them? For the Uchiha? Do you forget what they did to my father, your uncle?!"

"Oh, I remember well. And it wouldn't have happened if you didn't betrayed him and the clan. For what I'm concerned dear cousin, you killed him." Neji replied, his voice cold and detached as he stepped closer, the light from a flickering bulb casting a harsh shadow on his face.

Hinata swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. She knew Neji's words were just a ploy to get under her skin, but they hit a little too close to home. The barn was eerily silent except for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards beneath their feet. The air was thick with tension as Hidan's gaze remained unwavering on her.

"Neji... you can't trust Itachi Uchiha. He is not..." A resounding slap echoed on the large, empty barn. Pain shot through her cheek and tears stung her eyes, but she remained stoic, refusing to let them see her weakness. Hidan chuckled, his piercings glinting in the dim light as he watched the exchange with amusement.

Neji's hand was imprinted on her left cheek, a stark reminder of the power dynamics in play. His eyes narrowed, and she could feel the malice radiating from him. "You will address him as 'Lord Itachi'. And you will watch your tone. You are in no position to question his motives," he sneered.

She could only look down, her hair covering her tearful eyes. Her face stinged from the impact, but she knew better than to let them see her pain. Neji was right; she had no power here. But she also knew she couldn't give in. Not yet.

Soon, the sound of a car engine was heard outside, its low rumble growing louder as it approached the barn. The anticipation in the air grew palpable as the door creaked open, revealing the silhouette of a man. The light from outside cast a dramatic outline around him, and the dust from the barn floor danced around his figure as he stepped in. The man was none other than Itachi Uchiha. He wore a sharp, tailored black suit with a red tie and a long black coat, his eyes hidden behind shaded spectacles that glinted in the dim light. He came accompanied by two other men. One of them had a pale complexion with, with long white hair that reach to his lower back and pale green eyes, with two piercings on each eyebrow, almost 6'3. The other was taller, reaching maybe 6'5, short blue hair and dark eyes, they almost seemed completely black. He had three scars that resembled gills under his eyes. It almost seemed like he wanted to resemble a humanoid shark.

As Itachi's footsteps grew closer, the tension in the room became almost unbearable. He stopped in front of her, and even though she couldn't see his eyes, she felt his gaze on her. He took his time, inspecting her from head to toe, as if evaluating the worth of a piece of merchandise. The two newcomers stood behind him, their presence adding to the pressure on her already fraught nerves.

"Good evening Hinata-San. I apologize for the circumstances of our meeting, but I assume you should have expected this, don't you? You challenged me and my clan. You almost caused a great deal of damage to my business and on top of that... you are actively withholding very important information from me. And now, my docks, my fucking merchandise has been blown up to smitherings by, let me guess, your little sister." Itachi's voice was cold, calculated, and dripped with a hint of amusement.

Hinata looked up at him. Small tears donw her eyes, but cold fury in them. If she was going to die here, she would do it with her dignity intact. She would not beg. She would not give any of them the satisfaction. At least, she would see Naruto again.

"Just do it." she spat out.

Itachi lit up a cigarrete and looked down on her with apparent calmness. "Do what Hinata-San. Kill you? No. At least not yet." Itachi signaled Kizame to bring a chair that was next to a pile of crates. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other, and took a deep drag of his cigarette before continuing. "But you are going to give me the information I want. And if you don't, well, I'm afraid things will get... messy. For both of us."

Hinata trembled, not from fear but from anger. She felt the warmth of her tears on her cheeks, but she refused to let them fall any further. She glared at Itachi, her eyes full of defiance. Itachi let a slow smile appear on his face, almost as if he remembered something.

"You remind of her. She gave that same look to him, you know? To my dad. You know where my mother is now, Hinata-San? She is dead. Women should understand that this is a man's world. Your rebelliousness is what get's you killed. Is what get's you in this kind of situations. Women-should-know-their-place." Itachi's voice was low, his tone almost conversational, as if discussing the weather.

Hinata, remained silent.

Itachi nodded, "Good. Let's start from the beginning. I am a very busy man. You said you knew who the mole was, let's start there."

Hinata took a deep breath, "You also said you would help me to find Naruto. I know you Uchiha's are pieces of shit, but I though you at least kept your word."

Itachi's smile faded, and his eyes narrowed, "Oh, and I will. But first you will cooperate. Is the least you owe me for causing me so much issues, don't you think?"

Hinata swallowed, here goes nothing, "It's your brother. He betrayed you. He is working for the police."

Itachi looked at her deeply for what seemed forever. A low rumble came from him, then his shoulders started shaking, a smile, then a laugh. The laughter grew, echoing through the barn, and soon Neji and Hidan had to fight to keep their own laughter in check. "Oh, that's rich," Itachi finally said, wiping a tear from his eye. "My own brother, a mole for the police. How... deliciously ironic."

Hinata looked at him with wide eyes.

"Hinata-San, I've been doing this since I can remember and I take pride on how well I read people. Now, you are not lying about one thing... my brother... has betrayed me. But he is no mole. Why would he do that when he could be putting a noose to his own neck?" Itachi's smile was like a knife, sharp and cold.

"Maybe he was offered a deal..." A curling scream came out of her. A knife been plunged into her right tigh. A sharp, almost unbereable pain was shot trough her body, making her arch her back and scream in agony. It was the taller one, the one with the shark like scars, he had done it without a single word. He didn't even looked at her, as if she wasn't human.

"I do not take pleasure in this Hinata-San. But my patience runs thin. The truth, if you don't mind." Itachi's voice was a serene river cutting through the chaos of her pain. Her breath was ragged and shallow, but she knew she had to hold out.

"I-I am t-telling the truth." Hinata gasped through her teeth, trying to keep her composure. The pain from the knife wound was intense, but she knew she had to stay strong. "It's your brother... he... he's been feeding them information."

A fist connected her jaw, sending shockwaves through her head, making her teeth rattle. Hidan had hit her with a smile on his face. "The truth, or I let Hidan have some fun," Itachi said calmly, gesturing to the man with the piercings. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic delight as he stepped closer, his hand stroking the blade of his knife.

Her vision blurred, and she felt a warm trickle of blood seep down her chin. "I'm telling the truth," she murmured, voice barely a whisper. "It was your brother, he was the one who told me."

Itachi leaned back, as if he was tired, "I must say... I am impressed Hinata-San. I didn't know you had it in you. Very well, allow me to give you an incentive. I kept my promise and investigated about your husband's alleged murder." He signaled Kimimaro and he gave him a file. Itachi opened it and started reading through the papers inside. "The body that was found, is not his. It was planted. Your husband was not killed that day."

Hinata's eyes widened, "What... What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, that someone... wanted the world to believe your husband was dead. Believe me, I am as surprised as you. My enemies are multiplying by the second." Itachi closed the file with a snap, his gaze sharp on her face. "So please, help me to help you. You're not my enemy, you are just a woman looking for her husband, and I will give him to you. All of this can end, you just have to cooperate."

Hinata's tears fell even harder, the pain replaced by a newfound determination and hope. If there was even a sliver of hope that Naruto was alive, she would endure anything. "Alright, I'll tell you what I know," she whispered hoarsely. Itachi leaned in, his cigarette smoke swirling around her face. She remembered the night they made her confess, how they tortured Naruto to get her to talk, how her father and cousin didn't even help her against what the Uchiha did... how betrayed Naruto felt by her. She looked up at him, her lavender eyes, teary.

"It's... your dad. He told me while he was tickling my butt." she lied, her voice filled with spite. She would not make the same mistake again. He could be alive, that was enough for now. May God protect her.

The next thing she saw, was another fist... then darkness.

---

 

Kakashi arrived in Dubai. His shades covered both of his eyes—or rather, eye—giving him the look of a casual tourist. But he was far from that. Dressed in a simple white polo, beige pants that barely reached his ankles, and white loafers, he strolled through the hotel lobby with a fake smile and a forged ID.

He approached the front desk, turning on the charm.

"Welcome to the Golden Marina. How may I help you?" the receptionist greeted him with a rehearsed smile—one of many drilled into staff for tourists who couldn't tell the difference.

"Hello, love. I’m looking for Sasuke Uchiha, actually. I’m an old friend and heard he was here on his honeymoon. Just wanted to give the happy couple my best wishes... in person," Kakashi said smoothly, leaning on the desk with a charismatic grin.

The receptionist’s eyes widened before she regained her composure. Her fingers danced over the keyboard like a concert pianist.

"Let me see... yes, Mr. and Mrs. Uchiha are indeed staying with us. However, I’m afraid I can’t give out their room number for privacy reasons."

"Completely understandable." Kakashi nodded with a smile. He leaned in slightly. "Could you let him know Hatake Kakashi is here to see him? It’s a surprise."

She studied him with subtle suspicion but nodded. "I’ll pass on the message, Mr. Hatake. But please, don’t hold your breath. The Uchihas value their privacy."

"I’ll keep my fingers crossed," he replied with a smile and turned, scanning the lavish lobby.

Marble floors, golden chandeliers, a scent of wealth and power—it all clashed with the seedy backstreets he was used to.

Then a voice, sweet and cutting, rang behind him.

"What a coincidence... I was just about to ask for Uchiha-san as well."

Kakashi turned. A beautiful woman with a pixie cut raven hair and striking lavender eyes met his gaze. She wore a flowing white dress that tied behind her neck. A platinum-blonde man stood beside her, slightly older, with tattoos peeking out from under a pale grey shirt and white pants.

"Hanabi-san. What a surprise." Kakashi’s visible eye narrowed. Her presence here was anything but accidental.

"Oh? Do we know each other?" she asked, stepping closer with a playful smirk.

"No, but everyone in Japan—perhaps the world—knows who you are. The Hyūuga family is... well-respected."

Hanabi’s smirk sharpened. "Respected? Would a respected family be tainted by mafia scandals? A father imprisoned... and then killed?"

Touché.

Kakashi kept his cool. "Perhaps not. But the past doesn’t define the future."

Hanabi's smile softened, though her eyes stayed sharp. "I agree. That’s why I’m doing everything in my power to change my family’s future. But where are my manners? This is my husband, Yuri Romanoff. And you are?"

"Kakashi Hatake. Friend of Sasuke." He extended a hand. Yuri’s grip was firm—unexpectedly so for someone so polished.

"Sasuke Uchiha has friends? That’s new." Hanabi’s voice was laced with irony. She plucked a piña colada from a tray been held by a hotel's staff and took a sip. "But if you are, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. We’re here for business. Care to meet him together?"

Kakashi felt a chill in his gut. Business with Hanabi Hyūuga never meant anything good. Still, he nodded. "I’d be honored."

Two men in black suits approached them.

"Uchiha-sama is expecting you. If you’ll come with us, please."

They entered the glass elevator. Silence enveloped them as the floors ticked by. The tension thickened, hanging in the air like humidity before a storm.

The doors opened to a sprawling penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Dubai’s dazzling skyline. The contrast between this palace and the underworld they all came from couldn’t have been starker. 

Before they could proceed, a guard stepped in front of them.

"We need to check you before you meet Uchiha-sama."

Hanabi raised a brow. "No problem. But careful, boys. My husband’s the jealous type."

The guards frisked them. Hanabi’s inspection was more thorough than necessary. Yuri’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing. Kakashi followed, then Yuri, whose icy aura alone seemed to shorten the guard’s inspection.

The suite was even grander inside. A grand piano in one corner, a massive mahogany desk in another. Weapons—both antique and modern—lined the walls.

They heard voices ahead.

A woman’s voice. Then Sasuke's.

They entered.

A woman stood at the center, her pale rose hair cascading to her lower back, vibrant green eyes glowing like emeralds. A sheer golden cover-up clung to her sun-kissed skin. Branded on the back of her left shoulder was the Uchiha crest, healed over scar tissue.

Kakashi flinched inwardly. They did the same to Mikoto. This had to be Sakura.

Sasuke turned. His eyes, black as pitch, burned with fury.

They fell first on Kakashi. The man who was supposed to protect his mother... and failed.

The glass in his hand creaked as his grip tightened.

Then to Hanabi. The woman who had cost him a small fortune in product and alliances.

His lips curled into a snarl.

"I’m curious, Hanabi. You must be a whole man, 'cause only someone with balls that big would show up here after what you did."

Hanabi smirked. "Don’t be dramatic, Sasuke. We both know you’ll bounce back. And as for me? I’ve always had enough balls for two."

Sasuke placed his glass down—and lunged.

But Yuri met him halfway.

Lightning-fast, the two locked eyes, tension thrumming between them.

"Let’s not do this here, tovarishch. This is your honeymoon suite. It should smell like love and... well other things, not blood and sweat," Yuri said, his Russian accent thick.

Sakura placed a calming hand on Sasuke’s arm. "Listen first. Then decide."

Sasuke stared at her, his brow furrowed. But he paused.

"Very well," he said coldly. "Speak."

Hanabi’s expression darkened. "Your fucking brother took my sister. I want her back. She has nothing to do with this."

Sakura’s eyes widened. "Hinata? Hinata Hyūuga?"

"Yes," Hanabi confirmed. "Itachi took her—either to punish me or to get information." She looked pointedly at Sakura. "He wants to know about the mole."

Sakura felt her blood run cold. Hinata knew. Naruto had told her everything. Her eyes met Sasuke’s, pleading silently. But he only nodded once. He would protect her, no matter what.

"And why should I help you?" Sasuke said. "You almost cost me an alliance."

"Because we both want the same thing: Itachi gone." Hanabi’s tone was ironclad. "You want to be at the top. So do I. Help me. We’ll take him down—then kill each other later."

Kakashi stiffened at the boldness. Yuri remained still.

Sasuke lit a cigarette.

Sakura’s mind spun. Another potential ally. Another move on the board.

Sasuke studied Hanabi in silence.

"You want to make a deal, Hyūuga?"

"I want my sister back. I’ll give you whatever you want."

Sasuke smirked. "And here I thought I’d be painting my walls red tonight."

"You’d try," Yuri said, almost amused. Sasuke smiled at him, almost like an invitation, a challenge.

Sasuke stepped forward and pulled out a knife. Without hesitation, he cut his palm, then handed the blade to Hanabi.

"この契約は血で結ぶ。お前の敵は私の敵だ。" Sasuke's voice was solemn, so was Hanabi's when they recited this words.
(This pact is sealed with blood. Your enemy is my enemy.)

Hanabi sliced her own hand and took his.

"If your sister is dead," Sasuke said, "I’ll give you my brother. If she’s hurt, I’ll make him bleed twice as much."

"And I’ll ensure you become head of your clan. Anyone who opposes you, I’ll remove."

Their blood mingled.

A pact made. One that could only be broken by death. Braking it, would bring dishonor.

Hanabi and Yuri departed to their suite, agreeing to return tomorrow. Hinata was still missing.

As they turned to go, Hanabi paused. "Uchiha-san? May we speak?"

Sasuke frowned. They had just spoken.

"I wasn’t talking to you." Her eyes met Sakura’s. Sakura looked at her with surprise in her eyes, but followed her to the balcony, the night air warm against their skin, waves crashing in the distance.

"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Hanabi said, eyes on the skyline. "People would kill to see this once. Most never will."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"You’re direct. Like your husband. Be careful. One day, you may not see the line between you and him."

Sakura frowned. "What are you saying?"

"We’re the same. I was sold. I clawed my way to the top. I lied, fought, and killed to survive. You did too. Didn’t you?"

Sakura closed her eyes. She saw the basement. The violation.The pain. The betrayal. The survival. She nodded, faintly.

Hanabi looked at her with intensity. "They see us as weak. But we’re smarter. Stronger. You have power over Sasuke. Use it. Get everything you deserve."

Sakura stared at her, conflicted—but captivated. She felt a strange kinship with Hanabi, despite their opposing backgrounds. They were both survivors in a world that had tried to chew them up and spit them out. Sakura nodded. She took a deep breath, the salty sea breeze mingling with the sweet scent of the exotic flowers that lined the balcony.

Hanabi smiled, stepping closer. "I made a pact with him. But my real pact... was with you. It’s time for women to rule this world, don't you think?"

Chapter 8: Converging Storms - part II

Notes:

Enjoy!

By the way, there is a hypothetical study regarding control and rewrite of traumatic memories — a form of early-stage memory implantation or induced amnesia using a mix of sedation and trauma therapy (based loosely on real methods like electroconvulsive therapy, benzodiazepine-induced amnesia, or even hallucinogen-assisted manipulation). Which I used for the "fog spell" that Sasuke has.

You'll understand later on the chapter.

 

 

What a mess.

 

The explosion destroyed almost all of the product that was supposed to be handed over to the gang leaders, for them to distribute it on the streets and to their regular costumers and the rest was supposed to got to Gaara for him to distribute internationally. His boss was angry. Juugo had been the one to call him to tell him what happened and according to Juugo, Sasuke was ready to burn anyone who was involved with that shit. At the beginning he thought it could be Itachi pulling this shit, but his contact didn't let him now and since this happened Itachi hasn't been seen. On top of that, Itachi might be a manipulative, cold son of a bitch, but he wasn't wastefull. He would not fuck his profits up just to teach Sasuke a lesson, or send a message.

He would rather mess with something (someone) that Sasuke valued in his life. Suigetsu release a puff of smoke, while he stood watching his underlings clean up any evidence that could get the Uchiha clan in trouble. The port was a mess, alongside the ship were the cargo came in. He knew that this was going to be a big problem, but not for them. It was going to be a problem for the one that did this. Whoever it was, was going to regret crossing the Yakuza. The Uchiha Clan was known for their brutal ways of solving problems, and Sasuke was a fucking beast.

One of the men approached, his face stern, and reported the extent of the damage. Suigetsu's eyes narrowed as he listened intently. The loss was significant, but not catastrophic. The operation could be salvaged if they acted swiftly. He turned to Juugo, who was on the phone with one of the many gang leaders who were concerned about their part of the deal. The air was thick with tension, the silence only broken by the distant sirens growing louder.

"Yo, Juugo! Tell them we handling it and to stop busting our balls. We gonna find out who did this, soon." Suigetsu said, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge of aggression. Juugo nodded, relaying the message into his phone before hanging up. The sirens grew closer, painting a stark contrast to the chaotic quiet of the damaged dockyard. The smell of burnt wood and metal filled the air, mixing with the salty sea breeze. The two of them exchanged a knowing glance; they had to move fast before the cops turned the place into a crime scene.

Suigetsu whistled to the rest of the men, gesturing for them to hustle. They needed to get rid of the damaged goods before the cops arrived. "Move it, you lazy fucks! Dump it in the sea!" His eyes scanned the area, making sure they had no witnesses The sirens grew closer, a symphony of urgency and annoyance that seemed to echo the tension in his gut, "Come on, let's go!"

The men did as the were told with efficiency and started to leave the area, while Juugo and Suigetsu walked back to their car.

"You got someone in mind?" Juugo's stern voice broke the tense silence as they approached the car. Suigetsu's hand paused on the door handle, his eyes scanning the shadows for any signs of movement. He then look at Juugo and shook his head in denial, "Nah. But Imma find out."

Both men entered the car, Suigetsu on the passenger's seat while Juugo took the driver's. The engine roared to life, and they sped away from the destruction, leaving the sirens and chaos behind them. As they drove through the dimly lit streets of the city, their conversation grew heated. Suigetsu's mind was racing, trying to piece together the events of the evening. He knew it couldn't have been a random act of vandalism. This was personal. This was a declaration of war. Suigetsu's phone rang with a message notification, and he pulled it out to read it, his eyes scanning the screen rapidly.

THE HYUUGAS ARE INVOLVED. ITACHI TOOK HINATA HYUUGA. NEJI HYUUGA IS WITH ITACHI.

The text message was like a bomb going off in the car. Suigetsu's eyes widened, and he threw the phone onto the dashboard as if it had burned him. "What the fuck?!" he shouted, his heart racing. Juugo looked at him like he had gone crazy.

His thoughts were a whirlwind of confussion. The Hyuugas did this shit? Itachi has Hinata Hyuuga with him? He could only imagine what he was gonna do to her if the Hyuuga were responsible for this. He almost felt bad for the poor woman. But his main concern was Sasuke, his best friend and the man he would die for. Sasuke was going to go absolutely apeshit when he found out. His contact had the one to send him the info, so he knew it was legit.

Suigetsu looked at Juugo, who was looking at him with confussion in his eyes, while also looking at the road, "Call Sasuke. It was the Hyuugas. Itachi kidnapped Hinata Hyuuga."

Juugo nodded, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He knew this was going to be a problem. A big fucking problem.

---

 

The sun was almost gone in the horizon. The studio-office glew with the dim orange light of dusk. They were left alone, after the conversation with Hanabi ended. Sasuke grabbed his glass and poured vodka on it. Kakashi was still standing in the middle of the room, his body language seemingly relaxed, but his heart and mind were in turmoil. Sasuke moved slowly, like he had all the time in the world. He turned around after taking a sip of his drink and leaned on his desk, looking at Kakashi with cold detachment.

"You’re not here for old times," Sasuke said.

Kakashi widened his eye for a split second, not noticeable due to him still wearing his shades; before going back to his usual neutral, almost bored expression. "You remember me?"

Sasuke took another sip, "I remember... you been close to my father... and even closer to my mother. That I remember." His tone was low, the hint of a challenge in his voice. "I also remember, that my father and bro-Itachi, told me you were the cause of my mother wanting to abandon us."

Kakashi lowered his face and let out a chuckle, but there was no humor on it, "That's what they told you, huh? That I put that on her head?" his eye crinkled, but there was no humor in it. "I’m here for the truth. You deserve that."

Sasuke didn’t move. "Hmp... the truth. You think I’ve waited my whole life for a bedtime story?"

"No. But maybe you've waited for the right one to end."

A beat passed. Kakashi stepped forward, slow, deliberate. "Your mother—Mikoto—came to me before she died. Not to warn me. Not to plead. To plan."

Sasuke turned then, expression unreadable. "Plan what?"

"Escape. From Fugaku. From the family. From what he was turning you into."

Sasuke's grip on the glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. The silence between them stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The vodka burned a path down his throat as he swallowed the revelation.

Sasuke took a deep breath and placed his glass next to him on the desk. His face looking a the glass, "Go on."

"I loved her"

Sasuke moved so fast, that Kakashi had no time to react. His forearm ended on kakashi's neck until he pushed him against the wall. The impact made a noise that resonated through the room. The older man's face turned red, his eyes wide with shock, but his hands remained firmly on Sasuke's shoulder and upper arm, ready to fight back if he had to. "Love? You dare say that after all these years of silence?" Sasuke's voice was low, but the anger behind it was palpable.

Kakashi's voice was strained, but he managed to keep his calm, "It's not that simple, Sasuke."

Sasuke's pressure tightened, the veins in his arms popping out as he leaned in closer to the man who had once been his father's right-hand man. "It never is with you, is it, Kakashi?"

"I tri- I tried t-to get you out. For her." Kakashi's voice was strangled, his eyes never leaving Sasuke's intense gaze. The room felt like it was closing in on them, the air thick with the tension of decades-old secrets. "But Fuga-Fugaku was smart and ca-careful."

Sasuke's eyes were filled with fury, but also desperation... for the truth. He searched Kakashi's eyes for any sign of a lie, any hint of deception. But all he saw was pain. He released him and took a step back, his hand sliding down to his side, still trembling slightly. Kakashi held his neck, while coughing to regain his breath.

"Why didn't you save her?"  Sasukes voice was hoarse with anger and hurt. "You had the chance, didn’t you? To save her from that fucking hellhole!"

Kakashi straightened up and took of his shades, his one visible eye filled with regret and sorrow, "I was going to. I was ready to risk it all, to lose it all for her. But when I was coming back, my boss contacted me. Reminding me of who I was, of what would happened if I turn my back to the Interpol." He let out a sigh, "I had to let go of her. For the sake of the mission, for the sake of a greater good."

"Greater good?! Greater fucking good?! Look at me! Look how fucking bad things got!" Sasuke roared, slamming his fist on the desk. The glass wobbled but didn't break. "You let her die!"

Kakashi closed his eye with shame. He was right. Kakashi had been the one to let her go. To save her, he would've had to leave everything behind, and he hadn't been strong enough. But he had come here tonight with a purpose.

"She got caught, because Itachi gave her away." Kakashi's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the confession. Sasuke's fist clenched at his side, his knuckles turning white as he absorbed the revelation.

"You’re lying."

"I wish I were. She came to me in fear. Not for herself—she didn’t scare easy. But Fugaku had plans for both his sons. You were too young to see it, but she did. She wanted to take you. She asked me to help. Hell, she was even willing to cooperate with us, if I made sure you and her were save."

Sasuke’s fists curled. He could feel the burn in his throat, a scream that never quite reached the surface.

"So she did betray the clan. And you... were undercover."

"Fuck the clan! She loved you enough to leave! She was ready to put her life on the line, her freedom on the line! Just to get you out." Kakashi's voice was raw with emotion. "And she was willing to die for that."

Sasuke looked at him with watery eyes, but the tears refused to fall.

The memories came in broken shards.

Sasuke blinked, and suddenly he was five again. His mother’s perfume. The way her fingers curled around his. The hush of her voice—“Don’t speak. Don’t breathe.”

Then: noise. Red. A door cracked open. Itachi’s hand on his shoulder.

But something didn’t fit.

"There was smoke," Sasuke murmured. "Not fire. But... burning. Fabric?"

Kakashi nodded. "She struggled."

Sasuke’s voice grew distant. "She called out... not to Itachi."

Kakashi looked at him with trepidation and exitement.

"She said... 'kashi."  Sasuke's eyes looked at him with surprise and for the first time in his life, fear.

The weight hit him like a slow-building wave. Sasuke’s memories had always been a fog—whole months after the murder were blanks. He remembered nothing from the funeral. Just the static hum in his ears.

Kakashi stepped closer. "Fugaku used a method. A chemical compound—mixed with sedatives. Then reinforced with trauma, suggestion. A kind of neurological override. He had a Neurological specialist that worked for the clan—most especifically—for him."

"What...?" Sasuke's voice was barely a whisper, the revelation hitting him like a ton of bricks. His mind raced, trying to piece together the fractured moments from his past.

"I know this, because he told me about it. This method was used-is used- by agencies, espionage groups," Kakashi continued, his voice gentle, as if he were explaining a terrible thing to a child. "It was supposed to make you a clean slate. So Fugaku could put whatever he wanted in there. He made you an emotionless weapon. He never used it on Itachi, he didn't need it. Itachi was born a monster. You were made into one."

"You’re saying my memories were—"

"Tampered. Yes. That's why Mikoto was desperate to leave. To get you away from him, from them. She saw how it was affecting you. How hollow you were becoming. You were eight years old Sasuke."

Sasuke started shacking. He shooked his head in denial. He knew deep down that Kakashi was speaking the truth. His mother had called out for Kakashi, not Itachi. The burning fabric. The smoke. It all made sense now.

The glass decanter on the side table exploded as Sasuke hurled it against the wall.

"You’re just like the rest of them. You're trying to confuse me! Fucking up with my head!"

Kakashi didn’t flinch. "No. I want you to see the truth. Even if it breaks you."

Sasuke turned to him, eyes wild. "And if I am your son? What then? You think that buys you redemption?"

Kakashi's eyes widened. How did he know...?

"Oh, so you did sleep with her? I was guessing, but that expression righ there told me everything." Sasuke's words were like a slap in the face. "And you want me to believe that Itachi set her to die, just because she was with you?"

Kakashi's gaze remained steady, his heart pounding in his chest. "It's more than just being with me. She was going to take you away. She had information that could've brought down the entire Uchiha clan."

Sasuke walked back, his head was killing him. Sasuke’s breath hitched. The rage faltered. For a moment, the boy beneath all the armor showed—lost, broken, raw. His mom... really loved him? She wasn't going to abandon him?

He turned away again, voice lower now. "I used to dream about her calling for me. But her voice was wrong. It wasn’t me. It was you."

Kakashi looked at him with pity in his eye.

Sasuke said nothing more. Just stared out at the city, breath shallow, heart fractured.

---

 

Naruto was looking at the Suna skyline from his room. The moon was shining on his face, casting shadows across the scars that decorated his features. His mind was racing, trying to piece together where could he have taken Hinata. 

He stood by the desk, fingers tight around a tumbler of untouched whiskey.

His phone buzzed once—silent mode, always. A single message, no name attached. But the encryption told him who it was.

S: He has Hinata. He knows. I don’t know where. She bought us time. I’m sorry.

Nothing he didn't know already, but he appreaciated Sakura for telling him. Hinata. He did all of this to protect her, and she still got involved. Another thing that made him hate the Uchiha even more. He slammed the whiskey back, ignoring the burn. The walls closed in around him—memories, instincts, the unbearable thought of her in his hands. Not just Itachi, but the ghosts of their past: the woman who once loved him more than anything.

His phone buzzed again—a signal from Gaara’s network. A possible trace. Not Hinata. But a warehouse. Off the grid. Uchiha-owned.

Menma’s eyes darkened.

This wasn’t just a move on the board. This was war.

And this time, he wouldn’t be late.

 

Chapter 9: Echoes of Her Silence

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

The room was still, but Sasuke’s world was not. It pulsed, twisted, and cracked beneath the weight of Kakashi’s words. The silence after their confrontation hung like thick smoke. He hadn’t moved since Kakashi left. He stood in the same spot, staring out at the skyline. Such a beautiful city, built on secrets. Just like him.

He was no longer sure where Mikoto ended and Kakashi began. Where Fugaku’s cold shadow stopped and his own began.

Sakura entered the room like a ghost returning to a grave. She stood behind him, watching the back of the man who had ruined her, broken her, and somewhere along the line, tied her to him in ways she still couldn’t define. She saw the estate of the office, the broken glass on the floor, some papers scattered on the floor.

“I spoke with Kakashi,” she said. Her voice was steady, but her presence trembled.

He didn’t turn. “So?”

“Is it true?”

His silence answered her.

“That your mother tried to escape. That Itachi betrayed her. That your father... somehow... manipulated your mind, made you... this?”

“I don’t know what’s real,” Sasuke whispered. “Only what hurts.” His voie sounded tired. No a trace of the commanding voice he used on a daily basis.

She stepped closer. “Everything you’ve done... all the cruelty, all the control... was that his hand in yours, or your own?”

He turned slowly. His eyes were dark, ringed in exhaustion and something deeper: the void where a conscience might have lived.

“I was his weapon. Then I became my own.” His voice went back to the cold detachment she was familiar with. The underline rage he wore like a crown.

“Is that an excuse?” she snapped. “You tortured me, raped me, beat me into submission! Forced me into this life. You made me your wife in name, your prisoner in practice!”

“And I never asked forgiveness,” he replied, eyes narrowing. “Don’t act like I’m begging.”

“No, but you want me to understand, don’t you? That's what you always wanted.” she said, voice rising. “You want me to see the broken boy and pity the monster he became. But I can’t do that. I won’t. Because every choice you made... you made with those hands. You still chose to hurt.”

“I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Her breath caught, fury swirling with something softer, more dangerous. “Maybe not a good one. Maybe not a clean one. But you had choices. And you chose this.”

He looked at her then—not the way a husband looks at a wife, not even as his posession. He looked at her like she was the last mirror in a burning house.

“Would you have done different, if you were me?” he asked quietly.

There was a moment of silence. Her eyes filled with angry tears falling down her cheek, “I don’t know,” she said, shaking. “But that doesn’t mean what you did was right.”

"I know it wasn't. I never claimed that what I did was right. I am very aware of every action and choice I've ever made. But could you honestly say... that all of it was because I was a monster, or because I was made into one?" Sasuke looked at her deeply, yet coldly.

Sakura felt a twinge of something in her chest. It was not pity, not yet. But it was a crack in the wall of anger she had built around herself. "It means... that maybe there are tones of grey. That we are all drowning in it. But that doesn't mean your actions, don't deserve consecuences."

Sasuke nodded, as if he was a child hearing what was said to him, but not fully grasping it. He started to slowly walk to her, each step echoing through the empty room. When he was close enough, he reached out, gently wiping the tears from her cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was surprisingly tender.

She stepped back, her voice low. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. But I can’t pretend I don’t see you.” She then turned around and left the room as swiftly as she entered it, leaving him behind.

And for the first time, he looked afraid.

---

 

It has been days. Probably, half a week. Her left eye was nearly swollen shot, and the taste og blood in her mouth became familiar. They stripped her to her underwear, her body covered in bruises, particularly her abdomen. She had become a rag doll, a punching bag to them. Everyday, Hidan and Pain came in and ask the same question, 'Who is the mole?' and every day she stayed silence. They didn't even kept her in a chair; she was lying on the floor, hands tied to her back, they didn't even bother to tie her legs. She could barely stand up. Itachi hadn't come back, he didn't seem to bother.

Her thoughts swirled in a tornado of anger, fear, and a strange hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as broken as she thought. Maybe she was stronger than anyone would ever think. Maybe she could survive this, and even if she didn't and Naruto was actually dead, at least she would see him again. Footsteps echoed on the barn, she already knew what came next. It was routine. She was yanked by her hair and dragged to the middle of the room. The smell of rotting wood and metal was overpowering. They threw her down, the impact causing a spike of pain.

"You know," Hidan spoke, his voice as calm as if he was discussing the weather, "it doesn't have to be this way."

He picked up a whip from the table, the leather crackling as he snapped it in the air. The sound sent a shiver down Hinata's spine, but she refused to show it. Instead, she hanged her head low, never looking at him.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Hidan continued. "But we're going to have some fun today. Maybe this will loosen your tongue."

He cracked the whip again, closer this time, the tip flicking against her skin, leaving a stinging trail. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. The room was cold, the floor sticky with who-knows-what, but she felt the heat of anger rising in her core. Was this what Sakura went trough? Did her given her away the first time, caused this to be her fate? She wouldn't do it again. She owe her that much. She owe Naruto that much. Even if she died here, she would not talk.

"Let's start again," Hidan said, his voice dripping with a sadistic excitement. "Who is the mole?"

Hinata remained silent, her eyes closed tightly. The anticipation of pain was almost worse than the pain itself. But she had made up her mind.

"I don't know," she murmured, the words barely audible.

The sing of the whip hit her back , a fiery line of agony that made her scream. The pain was intense. She could feel the drop of blood running down her back. Hidan's face remained impassive, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of torture. Pain was his language, and he was fluent.

But she wasn't going to break. Not like that. Not today.

"Who-Is-The-Mole?" Hidan repeated, his patience wearing as thin as the fabric of reality around them. His eyes gleamed with a manic energy that seemed to illuminate the room with a dark glow.

"I don't know," she whispered, her teeth gritted against the pain. The words were barely audible, but they resonated like a bell in the tense silence.

Hidan's chuckle was heard to then turn into cruel laughter, "I really like you, you know? You have become my favorite plaything. Fuck! You are my outlet, now. Other motherfuckers have broke faster than you. I'm almost impressed." He grabbed her chin, tilting her head up. "But, I will get what I want. Besides, I'm just starting."

---

 

Sakura sat on the balcony, watching the moon cast its silver glow over the city. Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, swirling with doubt and anger. Kakashi had left her with more questions than answers. Was Sasuke the monster she knew, or was he a pawn in a twisted game? He also told her that Ino was worried about her and send him to keep an eye on her. She smiled. At least she had Ino on her side.

Her gaze fell on the distance. The dark horizon, the lights of the beautiful city. Not even in her wildest dreams, she thought she would ever visit Dubai. She placed her hand on her stomach, caressing where her baby was already formed. Her baby... and Sasuke's. This thought brought her all kinds of feelings, that she could not easily define. Fear, anger, hope...

The door behind her opened and closed, and she knew without looking it was him. Sasuke. He was quiet, his footsteps barely a whisper. He approached her, and she felt his hand on her shoulder, the touch gentle and warm.

"You should go inside. It's getting cold." Sasuke's voice was low, but it washed over her like a wave. Sakura didn't move, her eyes never leaving the horizon.

"Do you love me?" Sakura's question was as unexpected as a sudden summer storm in the desert. Sasuke's hand stiffened on her shoulder. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he took a deep breath, his grip loosening slightly.

"Sakura..." He paused, his voice a tightrope walk over a chasm of emotions. "I've done things that no one should ever do to someone they claim to love."

Her eyes searched the night sky, the stars blurred by unshed tears. "But do you?"

There was silence. Almost for a whole minute, then a deep broken whisper, "You are the closest thing that I've ever had, to love."

Sakura felt his admission hit her like a ton of bricks. Her head looked back at him, as if she had been smacked. There he was, a single tear down his right eye. Sasuke never cried, Sasuke couldn't cry. He was sociopath, a monster. Suddenly, she was filled with rage. How dare he? How dare he cry? No. He had no right, not after what he did. She stood up and slapped him, his face ended up looking the other way due to the impact, but he did not look angry. His face looked at her once more, his gaze still soft. This made Sakura even more angry.

She slapped him again, angry tears down her face. "You don't get to cry," she spat out. "You don't get to feel!"

Sasuke took the hit without flinching, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You stole my freedom! You tortured me and defiled me! You manipulated and lied to my parents to marry me! You don't get to say you love me!" Sakura's voice was a mix of sobs and anger. Sasuke took a step back, the slap echoing in the quiet night. He let her do whatever she wanted, she kept hitting, he kept taking it. She was the only one could punish him. Only her. She kept going until she was too tired.

Her breath was heavy, chest heaving with the weight of her words and her pain. The moon washed over them both, a silent witness to their tumultuous dance.

Sasuke softly caressed her cheek, she allowed it. Too tired, too much to handle. They both needed comfort, and they only had each other. The anger was still there, a smoldering ember in the pit of her stomach, but it was mixed with something else. Something she didn’t dare to name.

"Sakura..." He whispered her name, it was almost a sigh. A prayer. He closed the gap between them to then place a soft kiss on her forehead, then her other cheek, then her eyes, the corner of her lips. She allowed it. She was too tired to push him away, too drained to fight. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest. She felt his warmth, the beat of his heart, the strength of his embrace. It was a strange sensation, a mix of comfort and fear. His heartbeat, played a simphony she tought she would never hear from him. A steady rythim.

Well, hell be damned. Sasuke Uchiha had a heart... and he unknowingly gave it to her.

---

 

The barn was tucked between dead trees and the carcass of an old textile factory, wrapped in fog and buried in the hush of rural decay. From above, it looked like a forgotten place. But inside, hell moved quietly.

The breach was silent.

Gaara’s men were phantoms—no voices, only signals. Menma led them, black-clad, face masked. The sharpness in his blue eyes wasn’t just tactical—it was personal. Every step toward the compound tightened the coil inside his chest.

Hinata.

A muffled crack broke the tension—silencer, clean. A guard dropped. Two more. Quick work. Efficient. Brutal.

Menma didn’t flinch.

They cleared the perimeter in a minute.

He found her tied up, naked (with exception of her underwear), wet, most likely due to water torture, her pale skin had more bruises than her own skin tone.

But she was still alive.

Still breathing.

Still defiant.

He stepped into the empty space without a word, gun up, slicing through the dim light. But he failed to notice Hidan standing on the side, hiding in the darkness. Hidan’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the intruder. He didn't recognized this men. They didn't move like Hyuuga, or even Sabaku. Didn't matter, he already called Pein for back up and they wouldn't make it out alive.

Hidan lunged at Menma with a sadistic grin, knocking his gun out his hand with expertice, "Well, well," he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement, "Look what we have here."

Menma didn’t answer. He drew his knife—curved, short, military grade. No theatrics. Just purpose. Hidan stepped forward, twirling his blade lazily. “Cute."

They clashed.

The first blow was a blur—Hidan slashed high, fast and cruel. Menma ducked, countering with a diagonal slice across Hidan’s ribs. Flesh split. Blood sprayed.

Hidan laughed.

“I love it when they fight back.”

Menma’s silence was a promise of death.

They circled—one wild, feral, laughing like a demon; the other, surgical, all control and contained rage.

Hidan feinted left, then jabbed straight. Menma twisted, blade catching Hidan’s wrist, pinning it. A heartbeat later, he slammed Hidan into the wall—hard. Steel cracked behind him.

But Hidan kneed him in the gut, elbowed his temple, and the two broke apart, panting.

“You’re fast,” Hidan said. “Faster than others I’ve gutted.”

Menma lunged—silent, lethal.

This time, he aimed to end it. His knife slashed low, thigh, then up—gut. Hidan blocked, but the second blade came from Menma’s boot.

Slash. Hamstring.

Hidan stumbled.

Menma kicked his knee inward with a sickening pop.

The man dropped—but lashed out like a snake, cutting across Menma’s arm. Red soaked fabric. But Menma didn’t flinch.

“I’ll carve your fucking heart out,” Hidan spat, blood on his teeth.

Menma’s eyes darkened.

“You already lost.”

He twisted behind Hidan, hooked his arm under the man’s neck, pulled him back—and drove the blade into the soft gap beneath his ribs.

Hidan choked.

Menma whispered, “She’ll never see you again.”

Twist. Deeper. Final.

Hidan’s laughter died as he collapsed, blood pooling like ink.

Menma didn’t wait to watch him die.

He sprinted down the room, ignoring the pain in his arm.

He kneeled, holding her in his arms. Slumped. Bruised. Barely breathing.

“Hinata.”

She blinked—barely conscious. At first, she didn’t believe it. His voice.

But the warmth of his arms, the trembling whisper of her name, the way he cradled her like something sacred—

She knew.

“Naruto…?” she rasped.

He didn’t speak. Just held her tighter. He carried her to the black Subaru and entered on the back. The car moved immediately, leaving that hell behind.

Hinata's face was barely recognizable, a canvas of pain and despair. But the moment she saw the blue eyes that looked back at her, she knew. The hope she had held onto, that tiny spark in the abyss, had turned into a roaring flame. It was Naruto. He was alive. She tried to move her hand towards his face, but they had broken her fingers.

Naruto took of the mask. Tears running down his face. His Hinata, his sweet Hinata.

The moment she saw his face, she gave a broken smile, "I knew... you were alive." She then closed her eyes, fainting due to pain and exhaustion. 

Naruto sobbed silently, while caressing her bruised face, "I'm here, baby. I'm here." 

Chapter 10: Embers Beneath Ice

Notes:

Enjoy!

Flashbacks in cursive.

 

Three days before Hinata’s rescue.

.

.

The cold hum of Gaara’s subterranean war room filled Menma’s ears like a dull pulse. Harsh shadows carved the space into brutal geometry. A single screen glowed with static footage — a grainy image of an abandoned farm on the outskirts of Konoha, and the warehouse where Hinata had disappeared.

Gaara stood with his back to him, gloved hands clasped behind, his breath calm despite the storm he was enabling.

“You’re asking me to compromise my neutrality,” Gaara said. “To risk everything, for her.”

Menma didn’t hesitate. “No. I’m not asking.”

Gaara turned slightly, aquamarine gaze razor-sharp. “And I’m not doing this out of sentiment. I owe you a favor. One. This is it.”

Menma nodded. “I’ll make it count.”

On the table between them, a blueprint pulsed with blue light. One main entry. Rusted access ladders along the sides. No clean exfil path. A slaughterhouse for anyone who wasn’t ready to die.

“You’ll have seven of mine,” Gaara continued. “Off-book. No insignia, no trace. If they’re caught—”

“They were never yours,” Menma finished.

Gaara offered a rare smirk, thin and almost cruel. “We understand each other.”

A beat. Then Gaara leaned closer, voice dropping low.

“You shouldn’t be the one going in.”

“I’m the only one who won’t hesitate,” Menma said. “If Itachi’s there, I’ll put him down.”

“You’ll make noise.”

“I’ll make it look like a grudge hit. I’ve done it before, and you taught me how.”

The silence between them was not friendly — but it was forged in mutual survival.

Gaara slid a black envelope across the table. Coordinates. Surveillance blind spots. Everything Menma would need.

“Don’t die, Naruto,” Gaara said, his voice taut, old names bleeding into new allegiances. “There are worse things than letting the Uchihas win. Like letting them know they haven’t.”

Menma took the envelope and turned without another word. The moment he crossed that threshold, he left everything behind — names, titles, loyalties. He walked out a ghost.

 

Present time.

.

.

The beeping of the bedside monitor was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, stark against the cacophony outside. Menma—no, Naruto. Because that’s who he was when he was with her: Naruto. Her Naruto.

He sat there, watching her lie on the stretcher. Her eyes closed; one swollen nearly shut. Her breaths were shallow, each inhale a battle against pain. Her hands were wrapped in bandages—several fingers broken. Bruises mottled her skin, and her back was raw with torn flesh and cuts from lashes she’d obviously received. She looked so frail, so broken. His heart ached. His hand tightened around hers, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain his rage. If it were up to him, he’d bring back Hidan and kill him again—this time, more slowly.

Gaara had provided a private room deep within his tower, a sanctum of shadows and whispered secrets. The air was thick with antiseptic, a stark reminder of the battle they’d won, but it felt almost like a defeat.

The door opened behind him. He knew who it was.

“The doctor said she sustained severe injuries,” Gaara’s voice rumbled from the doorway. His shadow stretched across the room like a silent sentinel.

Naruto didn’t turn. His eyes were wet, tears held back by sheer will. He knew how lucky he was to have gotten to her in time. They would have tortured her until she talked—or until she died.

“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry this happened to your wife.” Gaara’s voice mixed sympathy with the cold reality of their world.

Naruto finally looked at him, cold rage burning in his eyes. “You sorry? This is the kind of shit you Yakuza motherfuckers do when you don’t get what you want!”

Gaara’s expression didn’t change. “Do I remind you what you’ve done to people working under me? You want to be Mr. Morality now?”

Naruto squeezed her hand tighter. “Everything I’ve done... I did for the right reasons.”

“Yet you still did it. Eagerly, sometimes. Applying the ‘end justifies the means’ bullshit doesn’t change the fact you did those things. Besides, I’ve never tortured women... I just kill them outright. I don’t make them suffer.” Gaara stepped closer, gaze unflinching. “And what do you call the lives you’ve dismantled in pursuit of your ‘right reasons’? Tell me, how is your way any different?”

“Wow, such a fucking saint. ‘I don’t torture women, just kill them.’ Man of the year.” Sarcasm dripped from Naruto’s voice, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Whether you like it or not, between me and the Uchiha, I’m your best bet,” Gaara said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m glad she’s okay. She’ll get the best treatment I can offer.”

With that, Gaara left as swiftly as he arrived, leaving Naruto alone with his guilt and rage.

---

 

The jet hummed beneath Sakura’s heels like a sleeping beast. Their honeymoon had ended, and now they were hurtling back toward reality—and the wreckage it promised. Outside the window, clouds streaked past like ghosts in retreat. But her thoughts were anything but still.

She looked down at her phone. A message blinked on the encrypted thread:

N: I got her. She's alive.

A slow breath left her lips. Relief. Tangible. Hinata had survived.

Despite everything, she had held out. That girl had fire. She’d stood against the Uchiha in the open while her clan broke around her. And now, she had bled for it.

Sakura wouldn't forget that. Nor would she forgive the ones responsible.

She switched phones and called Juugo. A quick, cold conversation.

“Izumi hasn’t checked in,” he said.

That was all she needed.

Sakura ended the call. Izumi had made her choice. She’d gone to him—her master, her god, her puppeteer. And she had whispered everything: the positioning, the softened manipulation, the intention to turn her against Itachi. Sakura had played the long game with Izumi, and now her own hand had been exposed.

Of course she ran to him.

Loyal little doll.

Sakura’s jaw clenched. Her nails bit into her palm.

She would deal with Izumi. It was already in motion.

She turned to the window again, her reflection faint in the glass—a woman made of glass and fire, a heart slowly quieting beneath the weight of necessity.

Then came the footsteps. She didn’t need to look.

Sasuke.

He entered with the same silent force he always did—like the eye of a storm just beginning to stir.

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“And you’re busy,” she murmured.

He didn’t rise to the bait. Just walked across and dropped into the seat across from her.

“I was checking the word on the street,” he said. “Apparently, Hinata Hyuuga was rescued. No one knows by who. My brother’s gone dark. He’s no longer in Konoha.”

Sakura didn’t look at him. “That makes things harder.”

“Or easier,” Sasuke replied. “Depending on how you want to play it.”

She turned to him now, gaze sharp as a scalpel. “Izumi told him. She’s disappeared. Juugo hasn’t heard from her since before the port exploded.”

Sasuke’s face darkened. “You want me to find her?”

“No,” she said, lips curving in something that wasn't quite a smile. “I want she to come to me. And I already know what I’m going to do.”

There was a pause.

“You’re changing,” Sasuke said, almost quietly.

“Good. I need to.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “You’re starting to sound like him, or even me."

She blinked once. “No, Sasuke. I’m talking like me. Just... without the weakness.”

There was silence again. Tension twisted between them like wire.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said after a moment. “Whatever war you’re fighting, I’ll fight it with you.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s what scares me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because I’ve seen what people become when they fight for someone else’s vision.” She looked at him poignantly.

“And what are you becoming?”

She smiled then—cool, distant. “Someone worth fearing.”

Sasuke watched her for a long time. Then, with deliberate calm, he said, “Just say the word, and I’ll tear Itachi apart.”

She met his eyes, and for a moment, they were no longer man and wife. They were two weapons waiting to be drawn.

“I won’t stop you,” she said.

But deep inside her, a quiet voice whispered that she might be using Sasuke the same way his father had. That guilt flickered—just for a moment.

And then, she buried it.

Because survival didn’t leave room for regret.

Kakashi was a few chairs away from them. He had his head back on the chair, anyone would think he was sleeping. But he had heard everything. This Sakura... maybe she was been understimated. Her voice had changed—colder, harder, like a diamond being formed under immense pressure. This woman was no victim, she was an active player in their world of shadows and deceit. And she was playing for keeps.

---

 

The vast living room was shrouded in darkness, except for the moon's light coming trough the curtains. A phone sat beside them on a small porcelain table, screen aglow with a brief report from his surveillance team.

Target extracted. Hyūga alive. No known party claimed the hit. Suspected external militia.

Itachi read the message twice. No name. No trace. Just silence where there should’ve been a scream.

He leaned back, gaze drifting upward toward the adorned ceiling.

“So she survived,” he murmured.

A whisper behind him, like velvet against a blade: “And not by your hand.”

Itachi didn’t flinch. The voice belonged to someone who had never needed permission to enter.

The man stepped from the dark, almost gliding—his presence sickly and sleek, like oil across glass.

“I suppose your precious lieutenants failed you again,” the voice said. “Sasuke’s wife has more bite than you expected.”

“She’s clever,” Itachi allowed, his voice cold as frost. “But being clever only buys time, not survival.”

The man chuckled. “And Sasuke?”

A long pause.

“He’s no longer mine,” Itachi admitted. “Whatever you buried in him... is unraveling. And she’s the thread pulling it loose.”

The man circled the room slowly, trailing his fingers along a steel support beam. “Your father made the boy into his image, Itachi. But he never gave him his own.”

“I gave him purpose.”

“You gave him a leash. And now it’s snapped.”

Itachi rose, eyes darkening. “That’s why I called you. I need every remaining gang lord to turn against him. We burn down the empire Sasuke believes he can lead. Cut off his head, and then we cut off hers.”

The man arched a brow. “You really think they’ll follow you?”

“They will when I tell them how weak, my otouto has become.” Itachi replied. “And more money and influence to their pockets."

The silence that followed was colder than any threat. Then—

“Well,” the voice drawled, “you always did have a flair for theatrics.”

He stepped closer, into the light.

Sallow skin. Amber eyes like a serpent’s. A smile that didn’t touch the soul.

Orochimaru.

“I’ll help you with your little vendetta, Itachi,” he whispered. “But only because Sasuke was mine first.”

A beat.

“And I do so love watching my old experiments spiral.”

Itachi said nothing. But behind his eyes, war was already forming.

And this time, he would leave no survivors.

 

 

Chapter 11: The Cracked Crown-Part I

Summary:

The conflict between the brothers has grown and today we start to see the consequences.

Notes:

Enjoy!

izakaya*: a casual Japanese pub or tavern.

 

 

 

The streets of Konoha buzzed like a pressure cooker ready to blow.

It wasn’t the police this time. Not Interpol. Not the government.
It was them—the Uchiha.

And now, they were eating each other alive.

Sasuke had become a symbol—cold, calculating, rich with vision. The younger syndicates adored him. He promised them expansion, tech laundering, cryptocurrency wash fronts, and clean legal covers that let them buy their freedom one contract at a time. He didn’t care for old blood rituals or ceremonial blade-bound loyalty. He cared about the future. And profits.

But the old generation?
They remembered rules. They remembered Fugaku’s code. They remembered fear.

And Itachi... he gave them that fear again.

In an underground izakaya* on the edge of the city’s port district, murmurs flowed faster than the sake.

“He's too soft,” muttered a scar-faced elder, stirring the ice in his drink. “Deals with the Hyūga girl. Letting that foreigner, Yuri Romanoff, sleep in our territory. And that woman—Sakura. She's the one pulling his strings.”

“You forget,” replied a much younger man, arms sleeved in ink and jacket half-open, “he’s the reason we still have the west district. You think Itachi would’ve protected that pipeline from Gaara or the Hyugas? We’d be in pieces if not for him.”

“That’s not loyalty. That’s convenience.”

“Convenience pays my rent.”

The air grew dense with tension.

Across the room, messages flickered through burner phones. Text threads of coded language. Setups. Watch-lists. Hits.

In the shadows, lines were being drawn.

---

 

Days after their return from Dubai.

 

The meeting room inside the Uchiha tower. Leather chairs was designed like a war chamber—sleek black marble, red accents, and windows that overlooked the glittering city below like a god surveying his kingdom. A round table sat at the center, surrounded by men and women dressed in designer suits with guns hidden beneath them.

They were the new blood—ruthless, hungry, loyal to profit more than legacy. The old Uchiha ways had failed them. Sasuke had not.

At the head of the table, Sasuke leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.

“Word is Itachi’s courting the elders,” said Ryoji, one of Sasuke’s lieutenants. “Trying to consolidate old loyalties. Promising tradition. Stability.”

“Stability doesn’t pay,” muttered another.

Sasuke said nothing. But his silence wasn’t weakness—it was the slow coil of a snake before a strike.

And then she spoke.

Sakura.

She stood near the window, her arms crossed, the soft hum of the city casting a ghost-light against her sharp cheekbones. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.

“That’s his weakness,” she said. “He thinks tradition is power. That respect is inherited. But you don’t inherit fear. You build it.”

The room turned toward her, uncertain. She didn’t flinch.

“Let him have the old men. Let them feel safe. Meanwhile, we own the streets. The clubs. The ports. The brokers. We bleed them from the edges while they rot at the center.”

“Bleed them how?” Ryoji asked, a skeptical lift of his brow.

“Shut down the secondary routes from Osaka,” she said coolly. “Quietly. Claim their shipments as ‘lost’ at sea. Let it look like incompetence. Undermine their credibility. Then leak the names of three of Itachi’s allies to international customs anonymously. Watch how fast the others jump ship.”

Sasuke tilted his head slightly, interest flickering like a match behind his eyes.

“Expose them from within,” Sakura continued. “Let the old guard devour itself. While we take control of the future.”

Silence. Then one of the younger captains—blond, sharp-eyed—laughed under his breath.

“She’s more dangerous than you,” he muttered to Sasuke.

Sasuke smirked faintly, but said nothing.

“She’s right,” he said at last. “We don’t fight him head-on. Not yet. We divide him. Make him doubt who’s loyal. Force him to tighten his grip. And when he does...”

“He’ll start choking,” Sakura finished.

Their eyes met. Something silent passed between them. Pride. Respect. Maybe even fear.

Sakura sat beside him then—not behind, not beneath. Beside.

The war was no longer Sasuke’s alone.

It was theirs. She learned a little slow... but she was learning, and she would get her freedom, no matter the cost. Now, she has to deal with Izumi. She was going to start playing her own game.

Juugo and Suigetsu smiled at the strong front his boss's girl was displaying. Juugo was impressed and pleased in equal measurements. She had held her end of the bargain, for now at least. She was actually helping Sasuke and the clan to thrive. Ever since they returned from their honeymoon, he noticed a change on her. She was colder, smarter, more cunning. She was becoming a force to be recon with and everyone could see it.

---

 

The room was dimly lit, carved into the mountainside behind the old Uchiha shrine—far from the tower Sasuke ruled and the digital world he trusted. This was earth. Stone. Ashes.

Itachi sat at the head of a long, lacquered table—more throne than seat—dressed in black, a single red thread sewn into the lapel of his jacket. Symbolic. Unmistakable.

The elders gathered around him were not flashy. They wore old suits, the kind with stiff shoulders and inherited blood. Their faces were maps of wars survived and secrets swallowed.

“You’ve all heard the rumors,” Itachi began, voice low but perfectly audible, even through the hush. “Sasuke wants to change the Uchiha. Modernize us. Strip us of our rites. Remove the root to feed the flower.”

He stood slowly, pacing the room like a specter in his own legend.

“But flowers die. And roots… they hold.”

“Your brother has allies, from what I've gathered,” one of the men said cautiously. “The foreigner—Yuri. The Hyuuga girl, Hanabi. Even the pink-haired woman...”

“Sakura,” Itachi finished. “Yes. She’s become the symbol of his weakness—and his obsession.”

He placed a file on the table. Photographs slid out. Surveillance shots. Sakura talking to Hanabi on a balcony. Sakura speaking quietly with Sasuke. Sakura watching everything and saying nothing.

“She’s the infection,” Itachi said, cold as winter stone. “And like all infections, she’s spread. Into our politics. Into our minds. Into him.”

“But she was nothing—a simple girl, an outsider,” one muttered.

“She was a scalpel,” Itachi said. “And now she is a dagger aimed at the Uchiha’s throat.”

The room quieted.

“Then we kill her,” another man said finally.

Itachi nodded. “Precisely.”

“But Sasuke—”

“Will break,” Itachi interrupted. “He always breaks. That’s what he was made to do.”

A new voice echoed in the shadows—one that hadn’t spoken before.

“And if he doesn’t?”

All heads turned toward the farthest corner, where a tall, thin figure stood just outside the light’s reach. His voice was a purr, both amused and poisonous.

Itachi’s expression didn’t change. “Then we push him harder.”

“You created a monster,” the figure said. “You should not be surprised when it starts to bite.”

The man stepped forward. His hair was long, black as pitch, and his eyes glinted like mercury. A snake curled loosely around his neck like jewelry.

“Orochimaru,” one of the elders breathed.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, smiling with all teeth. “But I think it’s time I returned to the fold. After all, I’ve seen what Sasuke is becoming. And I know what buttons still lie buried in that beautiful, broken mind.”

Itachi finally allowed a smile.

“Good. Then let’s make sure our little brother remembers who he belongs to.”

And just like that, the old gods of the underworld reached for their blades—and the war sharpened its teeth.

---

 

The café was tucked away on the edge of Konoha’s Marina—a gilded oasis wrapped in soft jazz and crystal light. Gold-leaf ceilings, white marble floors, and velvet chairs whispered of old money and new danger.

Sakura sat at a corner table, a porcelain cup untouched before her. Her dress was demure, pale lilac silk that flowed like water, but her eyes were sharp. Waiting. Watching.

Izumi arrived ten minutes late.

She wore fear like perfume—subtle but present. Her hair was neat, her smile shaky.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner,” she said, sliding into the seat across from Sakura. “He watches everything. I didn’t know who to trust.”

Sakura nodded slowly, her face the perfect balance of sympathy and skepticism. “I understand. You could've called Juugo. I'm sure he would help you.”

Izumi’s hands trembled as she lifted her coffee. “I was going to. I just... needed the right time. Itachi’s not like Sasuke. He doesn’t forgive.”

Sakura leaned forward. “Neither do I.”

Izumi flinched, but recovered quickly. “Look, I’m with you now. I want to help. I still have access to his location drops—I could even feed Itachi with false intel.”

Sakura smiled faintly, almost kindly. “You’d do that for me?”

Izumi nodded too quickly. “For all of us. I want out, Sakura. You were right, we are nothing but toys to them.”

Sakura smiled slowly, "I am glad to hear you say that."

The bell above the café door rang.

Footsteps.

Izumi froze.

Sasuke entered, flanked by Juugo, Suigetsu and other two of his men, all sharp suits and colder eyes. He didn’t speak. The staff understood instantly. The patrons were ushered out without protest. One woman left her purse behind in her haste.

Only Sakura, Izumi, Sasuke, and the guards remained.

Izumi stood up, panic in her eyes. “What is this?”

Sasuke didn’t answer. He simply sat beside Sakura, his hand gently brushing hers in a quiet act of possession. His expression was unreadable—but his presence was enough to make the air shrink.

“You lied to me,” Sakura said, voice soft but edged in steel. “You told him everything, didn't you?"

Izumi looked at Sakura with eyes filled with fear, then she looked at Sasuke. She never thought she would have been ambushed by him. Had they grown so close, that he was here to defend her and support her? She came here to try and get information regarding Sasuke's movements by appealing to Sakura's bleeding heart, but this wasn't the Sakura she met on that onsen. No. This woman was a snake.

Izumi smiled with fear, "I see that you have gotten use to this world faster than I expected. Remeber what I told you about power?  It's adicting isn't it?"

Sakura maintained her same stern expression, her emerald eyes unblinking as she stared down the trembling traitor. "Did you told Itachi?"

“I had to!” Izumi snapped. The pretense fell from her face like shattered glass. “You don’t know what he does to people who betray him.”

“Oh, I know exactly what he does,” Sakura said. "I've seen it."

Izumi’s breath caught, before she let out a nervous laugh.

“You’re no better,” she hissed. “You’re just the next pretty thing Sasuke uses before he ruins you. Just like he ruined everyone else.”

Sasuke’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. "Where's my brother Izumi?"

Sakura raised a hand slightly. She wanted to handle this herself.

“We were trying to give you a way out, Izumi. You can run. I'll help you.”

“Don’t act like you care,” Izumi spat. “You think being his wife makes you safe? And if I were you, I’d start worrying about what happens to that baby when Itachi takes back what’s his.”

Silence.

Sakura's eyes widen.

Izumi smiled cruelly, "Oh yes, he knows and you... are fucked!"

Sasuke tensed. One of the guards reached for a weapon, but Sakura raised her hand again. Not yet.

She stood slowly. A calm, eerie grace.

Then her hand struck Izumi across the face—sharp, brutal, and fast. The sound cracked like a whip.

“You speak about my child again,” Sakura said, her voice quiet, “and I will carve your name into the walls of the grave I put you in.”

Izumi stumbled back, clutching her cheek, trembling now for real.

Sasuke stood as well, watching Sakura with something fierce in his gaze—not bloodlust, not rage. Pride.

“You think I’m soft because I used to be kind,” Sakura continued, stepping closer. “But that girl died the day you all made me choose between survival and silence.”

Izumi didn’t answer.

“Take her,” Sasuke finally said to his men.

Izumi screamed, struggling, but the guards moved like shadows. They didn’t bruise her. Not yet. But they made it clear she wouldn’t leave the building.

Not walking.

Sakura watched as the door closed behind them, then looked at Sasuke. Her hands shaked. She could only imagine what they would do to her, but God helped her... she didn't care. She placed both of her hands in her stomach, the baby bump was starting to show. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Survival. Escape. Nothing else matters. She opened her eyes again, and saw Sasuke looking at her profoundly. He walked slowly to her and placed his hands on top of hers.

She looked at him deeply, for him to kiss her forehead softly.

Survive. Escape.

"You need to meet with Hanabi and Gaara." Her voice was barely a whisper, "You need to solidify your alligeances."

Sasuke nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I'll make the call."

Nothing else matters.

Chapter 12: The Cracked Crown-Part II

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

The suite was quiet except for the distant hum of the city beyond the reinforced windows. Soft morning light slipped through the curtains, catching on the bruises that marked Hinata’s pale skin like war paint.

She was awake.

Naruto—Menma—sat beside her bed, his fingers lightly grazing hers. He hadn’t spoken since she opened her eyes. He didn’t trust his voice not to break.

Hinata turned her head slowly toward him. Her lip was split, one eye still bruised and swollen, but her gaze was warm. Clear.

“You found me,” she whispered.

He blinked fast, looking down. “Of course I did.”

She gave a soft breath of laughter—dry, cracked, but real. “I wasn’t sure... if I was dreaming.”

Naruto turned his gaze to her. His eyes watery, but no tear fell. He looked at her deeply, almost as if to memorize her visage. She could have died, he could have lost her and it would ahve been his fault.

"Hinata... I am so sorry. You were never meant to get involved." He choked on the words, the guilt a heavy stone in his throat. Her gentle hand reached up, brushing against his cheek.

"Shh, you are here... you are alive. That's all that matters." Her voice was barely a murmur, but it carried the weight of the world in its reassurance.

He exhaled shakily, brushing his forehead against the back of her hand. “They hurt you. I couldn’t stop it. I should’ve known sooner, I should’ve—”

“You came,” she interrupted. “You came back. That’s what matters.”

Tears threatened, but he held them back. For her. “They wanted to break you.”

“They didn’t.”

Naruto looked at her, searching for the cracks. The damage beneath the surface. But Hinata’s spirit burned quietly behind her tired eyes. He knew the scars would remain. But she was still her. Whole in a way only the truly broken could understand.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, voice low.

She looked at him warmly, "Maybe. Yet I still love you."

Naruto let out a sob, his hand tightening around hers. "I'll never let them touch you again," he vowed, his voice filled with a fierce determination that had been lacking during his years in the shadows.

Hinata smiled softly, "But... why did you let me believe you were dead? Why didn't you tell me?"

Naruto took a deep breath, his grip tightening on her hand. "To protect you. To keep you away from all of this." He gestured to the world outside their private bubble. The Yakuza world where he had been forced to become Menma, a life he never wanted her to know. What he didn't imagine was that his sweet, softly spoken Hinata, would have the guts to take on the fight head on, just to get revenge and justice on his behalf.

Her gaze searched his, and she nodded, understanding dawning in those gentle eyes. "When I heard you were dead... my whole world, crumbled. I blamed myself for not been strong enough. For not doing more. I missed you so much, Naruto. Life, wasnt life without you."

He leaned down slowly, pressing his forehead to hers. It wasn’t romantic—it was reverent. A soldier returning to the only place that had ever felt like home.

“I’m never losing you again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that sterile, clinical room meant for recovery, they carved out something softer than war. Something worth surviving for.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and a stern looking Gaara walking into the room. "Is good to see you're doing better Hyuga-san," he said with a nod, "Would you excuse us for a moment? Your husband and I have much to discuss."

Hinata's eyes widened slightly before she nodded. Naruto gave her one last kiss on her forehead, before accompanying Gaara outside. The corridor was dimly lit, the walls covered in earthy tones and bohemian inspiration, and a sence of regality that was only found in places that were paid for by ill-gotten gains. Gaara's gaze was sharp, his eyes piercing through the veil of the morning haze.

"Uchiha Sasuke called me. He wants us to meet. He says he wants to discuss a new alliance and business oportunity for us." Gaara spoke in a serious tone as they stood in the hallway outside the medical suite. The mention of Sasuke's name sent a shiver down Naruto's spine. He was still very much a threat and he still had every intention to get Sakura out of his grasp and get justice for Shikamaru's death.

“You sure about this?” Naruto asked without turning. “An alliance with him?”

Gaara didn’t blink. “No.”

A beat. “Then why are we even talking about it?”

“Because when snakes start eating themselves,” Gaara said calmly, “you don’t stop them—you guide the bite.”

Naruto turned. “You want the Uchiha to tear each other apart.”

“I want them gone,” Gaara corrected. “Completely. Sasuke’s ambition is a crack in Itachi’s armor. If I support it strategically, the fracture widens. They weaken each other, and when the time comes—”

“We finish them,” Naruto muttered, catching on.

Gaara nodded once, "That has always been the plan."

“But you’re backing Sasuke now. That’s still a risk.”

“I back no one fully,” Gaara said. “But I let them believe I do. That’s how dynasties fall.”

Naruto didn’t respond. He was thinking about Sakura. About her child. About Sasuke’s face when he spoke of protecting them both.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I think he wants to genuinely protect Sakura. For better or worse.” he said quietly.

Gaara raised an eyebrow.

“He wants to burn everything down, but not for power. Not just for power. He’s doing it for her.”

“Which makes him dangerous in a different way,” Gaara replied. “The man who kills for nothing has limits. The man who kills for love has none.”

Naruto’s stomach churned. “Hanabi’s not any better.”

“No,” Gaara agreed. “She wants legacy. Power through perception. She’s rewriting the Hyuga name as if that erases the blood on it. She wants to be queenmaker—and then queen.”

“And you?”

“I want a clean slate.” Gaara’s voice was cool. “No more Uchiha. No more Hyuga. No more empires built on corpses.”

Naruto looked at him with a mix of awe and worry. “And what if Sakura ends up on the wrong side of that clean slate?”

Gaara looked away. “Then she chose wrong. However, I have faith that she has not chosen wrong.”

Silence.

Naruto exhaled, stepping away from the window. “So we’re all pretending to play nice until we don’t need each other anymore.”

“That’s what an alliance is,” Gaara said. “At least in our world.”

---

Sunagakure, Suna.

 

The meeting was decided on Suna territory, away from Itachi's spies and influence.

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the AC and the distant crackle of incense burning in gold-plated bowls. The setting was neutral territory—an abandoned luxury ryokan nestled in the city of Sunagakure, its decaying elegance now repurposed as a war room.

A long black table split the center of the room. Sasuke stood at its head, dressed in a fitted suit the color of blood and ash, the Uchiha fan blazing red on his cufflink. Beside him stood Sakura—elegant, poised, and unreadable in deep crimson silk. Her eyes scanned the others, reading every twitch, every shift, every hunger.

Gaara entered first, flanked by his brother Kankuro and Menma, along with two of his elite. His gaze was steady, hands gloved, mouth unreadable.

Hanabi was last. She walked in as if it were a coronation, not a negotiation. Yuri followed closely, his quiet menace a contrast to her soft silk and poisonous grace.

Each faction took a seat. No one spoke.

Until Sasuke did.

“I appreciate you all coming. We don’t need to like each other,” he said, “but we need to survive. And none of us will if Itachi continues to pick us off like pawns.”

“Bold words,” Gaara replied, voice like sandpaper over stone. “What makes you think this alliance won’t collapse the moment someone gets what they want?”

Sasuke didn’t blink. “Because I know what each of you wants. And I’m offering a path where we all get it—if we don’t kill each other first.”

Hanabi smirked, swirling the wine in her glass. “So, what are you suggesting? A council of criminals? A new age mafia roundtable?”

“I’m suggesting a united front,” Sasuke said. “One where we share intel, territory boundaries, and coordinated strikes—until Itachi is gone.”

“And after?” Hanabi asked, her eyes sharp.

“That depends on who proves most useful,” Sasuke said coldly.

A beat passed.

“I want the Hyūga name reborn,” Hanabi said. “You help me with that and my sister, and I’ll feed you what I know of my father’s surviving networks.”

“I want Uchiha blood off the streets of Suna,” Gaara added. “No more product, no more weapons flowing into my territory from your side.”

“Agreed,” Sasuke said smoothly.

Then, all eyes turned—subtly, but unmistakably—toward Sakura.

She smiled slowly, and leaned forward just enough to be noticed.

“I think this alliance can work,” she said softly. “But only if we stop pretending we’re here for justice. We’re here for power. Let’s be honest about that. Everyone at this table wants something—legacy, revenge, control. Let’s use that.”

Hanabi arched a brow, clearly impressed.

“Let everyone believe we’ve created peace,” Sakura continued. “Stabilize the streets, consolidate control. Meanwhile, each of us gets what we’re owed.”

Sasuke glanced sideways at her. There it was again—that clarity, that ruthless understanding of the game. She wasn’t just his wife anymore. She was becoming his equal.

Hanabi tilted her glass. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You didn’t look hard enough,” Sakura replied.

There was a silence. A tense one. And then—nods. Not trust. Not friendship.

But agreement.

Gaara pushed forward a folder. “My men will coordinate with yours. No names. Just movement.”

Hanabi placed a sealed envelope on the table. “My first payment of loyalty. You’ll find it useful.”

Sasuke looked down at the table, at the markers of something historic—something deadly.

“Then it’s done,” he said. “We move as one.”

No one said it, but everyone thought it:

Until we don’t.

---

 

As the meeting dispersed into shadows and smoke, Hanabi made her way toward her car, Yuri a silent shadow at her side. The night's chill brushed against her silk sleeves, but she hardly noticed—her mind was already five moves ahead.

That’s when she felt it.

A presence.

She turned swiftly.

The masked man—Gaara’s ever-silent guardian—stood just a few paces behind her. His posture was relaxed, but something about him radiated danger. And purpose.

Her eyes narrowed. “The loyal hound finally speaks? Or are you just here to breathe down my neck?”

He said nothing. Just stepped closer, soundless as fog.

Then, low and deliberate, he leaned in—close enough for his breath to graze her ear.

“If you want to know where your sister is,” he whispered, “come to Oasis Tower. Alone.”

Before she could snap back, he was already walking away—vanishing into the mist like a ghost that never existed.

Hanabi stared after him, fingers curled tight around her clutch, heart suddenly thudding like a war drum.

She hated riddles.

But she hated loose ends even more.

---

 

Private Jet, en route to Konoha

 

The hum of the jet filled the silence like a lullaby for the damned. High above the world, suspended in a sea of stars and velvet night, Sakura stared at her reflection in the window. But she didn’t see herself.

She saw blood.

She saw Karin—screaming, begging, accusing.

And then… nothing. No sorrow. No regret. Just the brutal, steady knowledge that it had been necessary.

And that terrified her.

Had she really crossed the line? Or had she just accepted what the world required of women like her—like Hanabi, like Mikoto once was? To survive among monsters, she had to learn to become one. She felt it in her chest like rot: the shedding of skin, the decay of innocence.

A part of her whispered good. Good that you feel nothing. Good that it’s getting easier.

But another part—quieter, softer—ached. What would her child see when they looked at her one day? Would they see a mother, or a tactician? A protector… or a queen made of knives?

Her hand drifted to her belly, the bump small but certain. “I’ll protect you,” she whispered. “Even if I lose myself doing it.”

Sakura’s eyes flicked to the seat across from her. Sasuke. Reclined, silent, watching her.

No… not watching. Studying.

His fingers drummed against the armrest in thought. She had changed. She moved like a blade now—sharp, poised, dangerous. There was no trace left of the girl he had abused and married. She sat now like someone who belonged at a table of killers. And it was his fault.

He was proud. And horrified.

Was this what his father did to Mikoto? Was he just repeating the cycle, twisting something beautiful into something hard and useful?

Sakura finally met his eyes.

“I want to make a deal with Kakashi,” she said bluntly.

Sasuke’s brow furrowed. “What kind of deal?”

“The kind that ensures my freedom. And my child’s. If this all burns down—If you burn down—I want to walk away clean.”

He said nothing. Just stared.

“I’m not yours,” she added. “I never was. And you’re not mine either. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fight for the same thing... for now.”

The honesty stunned him more than any insult could have. But what haunted him more was that he had nothing to offer her in return. Except the truth he was only beginning to discover.

He was falling in love with her.

Not because she obeyed. Not because she feared him. But because she didn’t.

He broke the silence. “I never knew what love looked like.”

Sakura blinked.

He leaned forward. “But if it looks like watching someone choose themselves—even when it means leaving you behind... then maybe I’m learning.”

She stared, heart thudding. The truth between them was too complicated for one night. Too dangerous to name aloud. But she didn’t pull away.

She only whispered, “Then learn faster, Uchiha. The world isn’t slowing down for either of us.”

And outside, the sky kept flying past—dark, endless, and free.

Chapter 13: The Weight of What Was Lost

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

Oasis Tower, Suna-Top Medical Suite

The medical suite crowning Oasis Tower was a palace suspended between sand and sky. Walls of glass framed the desert’s golden sprawl, while within, the silence spoke of careful recovery. Everything was curated—soft lighting, muted colors, temperature regulated to the perfect degree. A luxury bunker built for those who bled in silence.

Menma met them in the lobby. Wordless, faceless—he was a living ghost in tactical black, leading them without ceremony through corridors veined with security and power. He moved with the confidence of someone used to shadows. Yuri, however, was coiled tight behind him, his hand resting casually near the holster beneath his jacket. He didn’t trust the silence. Didn’t trust the man in the mask. Not here. Not in a fortress Gaara called his own.

Inside the suite, Hinata sat by the window in a recliner customized for her recovery. The desert sun painted warmth across her pale skin, but bruises still bloomed like wilted flowers on her throat, arms, and cheek. A cane rested within arm’s reach. Her breath was slow, measured—but her eyes glowed with something brighter than pain.

Hope.

The pressurized door whispered open behind her.

Hanabi entered alone—no guards, no attendants, only a long breath held in her chest. She paused when she saw her sister. The years between them collapsed in a heartbeat.

“Onēsan...”

Hinata turned her head slowly. A soft, trembling smile graced her lips. “Hanabi.”

And then everything broke.

Hanabi crossed the space and fell to her knees, folding her arms gently but desperately around her sister. Her perfume—jasmine and steel—clung to the air.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said, voice cracking. “I thought—”

Hinata pressed her forehead gently to her sister’s. “But you didn’t. I’m still here.”

Hanabi leaned back just enough to study her. “He hurt you,” she whispered. “That bastard—Itachi—he touched you.”

Hinata’s smile faltered, but she didn’t look away. “He tried to take something that didn’t belong to him. But I remembered who I was. Who we are.”

Hanabi’s fingers trembled against her sister’s jaw, the silver rings she wore cool on bruised skin. “I swear, I’ll make him pay for this. And Neji too. They’ll both drown for what they’ve done.”

Hinata’s eyes softened. “Not today. Today, I just want to be here. With you.”

Hanabi swallowed hard and nodded. Their embrace tightened, the kind of silence between them that only sisters shared—the kind born of suffering, loyalty, and survival.

“He wanted a name,” Hinata said quietly. “Over and over.”

“Did you give him one?”

“No,” Hinata said. “Not even in my dreams.”

Hanabi blinked rapidly to stop the tears. “You’ve always been the strongest of us.”

“I just remembered what you used to say to me when we were kids,” Hinata whispered. “That flowers bloom, even in broken soil.”

“I was a brat,” Hanabi said, brushing Hinata’s hair back with a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “You were always the bloom. I was just the thorn.”

Hinata smiled. “We needed both.”

“Aishiteruyo, onēsan,” Hanabi said, the words breaking free like glass from a clenched hand.

“Aishiteruyo, imōtoyo,” Hinata answered, voice a thread of silk and steel.

From behind mirrored glass above the suite, Menma stood silently. A faint smile curved beneath his mask. Relief. Quiet and sharp.

“She’s recovering,” Gaara said beside him, arms crossed.

Menma nodded, eyes never leaving the scene below. “She’ll heal.”

“And you?” Gaara asked.

Menma didn’t answer. His eyes lingered on Hinata’s smile, the way she leaned into her sister’s shoulder, her body still trembling from pain—but no longer from fear.

Somewhere inside him, something loosened.

On the far side of the observation suite, Yuri stood like a statue. His arms were crossed, but his eyes were sharp and restless—fixed on Menma.

“Who the hell is he?” he muttered.

Gaara’s voice was smooth. “A partner.”

Yuri’s jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.”

“He got your sister-in-law back. That should be enough.”

But it wasn’t. Not for Yuri. Years in the Bratva had taught him one thing: no one moves in shadows unless they have something to hide. And the man in the mask didn’t just know how to navigate the underworld—he moved like someone who helped build it.

Hanabi had her sister back. For now, that would do.

But Yuri was already thinking ahead. Already watching the angles.

Because ghosts like that don’t show up without unfinished business.

And he was ready to finish it first.

---

 

The war didn’t begin with a declaration. It began with bodies.

A lieutenant from Sasuke’s side found gutted in a Shibuya alley—eyes missing, a note pinned to his chest: Traitors rot. A warehouse in Kyoto, loyal to Itachi, burned to ash with three men still chained inside. Each death answered by another. Each retaliation a little louder.

And then the silence broke.
The city ignited.

Tokyo’s underworld fractured like glass hit at the center. Syndicates splintered. Alliances that had held for decades were torn in days. Blood soaked into concrete and ash rained over rooftops like cursed snow.

The old guard, elders loyal to Itachi, moved with surgical precision. Their methods—quiet assassinations, financial sabotage, poison in tea cups. These were men who had survived wars before, who killed not with rage but with patience. They remembered the codes. Respected the legacy. They feared chaos. And so they feared Sasuke.

But the new blood?
The young wolves who backed Sasuke didn’t want legacy. They wanted change. Money. Control. Relevance. And they were loud about it. Explosives in enemy clubs, mass executions streamed anonymously on encrypted channels. They didn’t fear the government. They were the government—sons of politicians, officers, celebrities. Connected. Entitled. Vicious.

Yakuza turf in Osaka turned to a war zone. Rival motorcades exploded in Ginza traffic. In Hiroshima, three senior clan leaders were gunned down during a funeral procession. No one could tell if the bullet came from Itachi’s men or Sasuke’s. No one cared anymore.

And the government?

They responded with nothing but silence.

Behind closed doors, the National Police turned their eyes the other way. Ministers were bought off, judges blackmailed, law enforcement split down the middle. Sasuke's clean-cut front businesses offered Tokyo's elite a taste of invincibility, while Itachi had the blackmail, the old favors, the ghosts buried too deep to dig up.

It was a war with no safe side.

.

.

Konoha, Night

A backstreet izakaya exploded at midnight. Seven dead. No survivors.

Inside the smoking ruin, a boy no older than seventeen—a runner for Sasuke’s crew—was found with his jaw shattered and eyes wide open. His fingers still curled around the kunai he never got to use. Beside him lay an older man in a pressed suit—one of Itachi’s council. His throat had been slit with precision, but his blood was soaked with younger handprints.

Sasuke and Itachi were nowhere near these streets. But their shadows were.

.

.

Shadow Room – Sasuke’s War Council

The underground meeting chamber beneath a nightclub in Shinjuku pulsed with low red light and smoke. Sasuke sat at the head of the table, unreadable. Beside him, Sakura stood. She said nothing, but her presence was enough to make most men in the room measure their tone.

“Young Shin of the Shiranami Syndicate pledged loyalty this morning,” said Suigetsu, wiping blood from his cheek. “He wants us to protect his southern port routes.”

“He’ll get it,” Sasuke replied. “But we don’t bleed for free. Triple his cut or we move on.”

Juugo leaned in. “What about Akira and the old guard? They’re aligning with Itachi.”

“Let them,” Sakura spoke now, cold and calm. “They’ll hang themselves clinging to old rules.”

Sasuke’s eyes flicked toward her—pride and war mingling in his expression. She had changed. Sharpened. Hardened. He had made her this way. He knew it.

And somehow, he both hated and admired it.

.

.

Osaka – Itachi’s Stronghold

Itachi sat in a circle of men older than him—wiser, maybe. Their loyalty ran deep, but their fear ran deeper.

“We cannot win this war with knives and silence,” said Elder Hoshikage. “Sasuke is not a boy anymore. He’s built something.”

Itachi’s eyes—obsidian and calm—rested on the burning map of Japan behind him.

“I don’t need him to fall today,” he replied. “I need him to fall slowly. Publicly. With shame.”

“He has the young,” another said. “The people.”

Itachi smiled faintly. “Then it's time my little brother learns his place. We attack his heart."

The room fell still.

One of the elders hesitated. “You mean…?”

“Yes.” Itachi’s voice didn’t rise. It never had to. “The woman. The child.”

A few men shifted uncomfortably. But none opposed him.

“She’s changed him. Given him something human. Something vulnerable,” he continued, calm and merciless. “Love is a flaw he never had before. Now he does.”

He reached down, pulled a file from the desk beside him, and opened it with surgical precision. Inside were photographs—satellite, candid, street-level. Sakura at a clinic. Sakura near the Nakamura estate. Sakura boarding a jet.

And one image of her placing a hand over her stomach.

“You want to end an empire?” Itachi said softly. “You start with the seed.”

He closed the folder.

“Send the order. Quiet. Clean. Make it look like an accident. If Sasuke wants to build a kingdom, let him bury his queen first.”

The elders said nothing. The fire cracked. Outside, Tokyo’s night was just beginning to bleed.

Orochimaru, who was sitted on the far corner of the room, covered in shadows, smiled a toothy grin. Finally. A broken Sasuke was his favorite. He would have his fun with him, like he did all those years ago. 

.

.

The Streets

Blood ran down storm drains in the red-light districts. Markets closed early. Mothers pulled their sons inside before dark. Children whispered stories of masked men and silver cars that never returned.

The war was no longer about power.

It was about legacy. About who would survive the fire and what would be built in the ashes.

---

 

Art Museum – Konoha

The marble shimmered under the gallery lights—flesh stolen from stone, movement captured in agony. The Abduction of Persephone.

Sakura stood still in front of the sculpture, one hand resting gently over her belly. Almost five months now. The curve of her body unmistakable. Not hidden, not ashamed. But claimed. A quiet defiance against everything that wanted to devour her.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips along the air just shy of the sculpture’s surface—Pluto’s fingers pressing into Persephone’s thigh, his face twisted in lust and possession. Her own face contorted in horror.

Is this how I looked?

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry. Not anymore. Tears were luxuries, like innocence.

The silence of the museum was absolute, broken only by the faint hum of classical strings drifting through hidden speakers. It wasn’t peace. It was limbo. The quiet before an executioner’s swing.

She heard them before she saw them—two sets of footsteps. One light and deliberate. The other calculated, almost soundless.

Kakashi on her left. Sai on her right.

Neither spoke. Neither needed to.

She kept her gaze on Persephone. On the way her limbs twisted, her body betrayed, her fate rewritten by someone else’s desire.

“People call this a masterpiece,” she said, voice calm but distant. “They praise the way Bernini carved softness from cold stone. The realism. The anguish.”

She paused, her thumb circling over her belly.

“But they never talk about how wrong it is. How we’ve romanticized rape and called it myth. Art. Beauty.”

Her voice didn’t shake. Not anymore.

“I used to think I was Persephone.” A breath. “I used to think Sasuke dragged me into the underworld… kicking and screaming, ruining me.”

Another pause.

“But now… now I wonder if the underworld is where I was always meant to bloom. Like a seed under pressure.”

Stillness again. Even the music seemed to hold its breath.

She turned to them—slowly, deliberately. Her eyes weren’t wide with fear like they had been months ago. They were sharp. Measured. Tired, but unyielding.

“I want protection,” she said flatly. “For me. For my parents. And for this child.”

Kakashi’s lone visible eye twitched slightly. Sai, on the other hand, blinked as if recalibrating his expectations. This was not the scared girl Ino described. This was something else entirely. Something colder. Sharper.

“In exchange,” she continued, “I’ll give you what you want. Evidence. Intel. Names. But when this war ends—when Sasuke and Itachi bury each other—I want out.”

“You’re asking for witness protection,” Kakashi said, voice like dry paper. Not a question. A quiet assessment.

“Yes,” she replied.

Sai’s voice cut in, polite but clinical. “And you believe you’ll survive this long enough for that to matter?”

Her gaze flicked to him, cold and even. “That’s your job now, isn’t it?”

Kakashi let out a breath, almost amused.

“You’ve changed.”

“I was changed,” she corrected. “Now I’m adapting.”

She looked back at Persephone.

“Tell your people… the flower is done waiting to be plucked. She’s growing thorns now.”

---

 

Uchiha estate – Sasuke’s Office

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting blood-red light through the tall windows of the office. It was silent, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Time, always running out.

Sasuke stood with his back to the room, staring out at the horizon. Behind him, Juugo and Suigetsu exchanged glances but remained still. Watching. Waiting.

The heavy door creaked open.

His lawyer stepped in, briefcase in hand, tailored suit immaculate. “You wanted to see me?”

Sasuke turned, slow and deliberate, the light casting half his face in shadow.

“I need to update my will.”

Suigetsu blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Juugo frowned. “You planning something, boss?”

“I’m preparing,” Sasuke said simply.

He nodded at the lawyer, who opened the briefcase and slid out a thick folder.

“If anything happens to me—if I die—everything goes to Sakura,” Sasuke said. “Not the council. Not Itachi. Not the family.”

He paused. “Her. And the child she carries.”

Juugo’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Suigetsu whistled low. “Damn. That’s... a move.”

“She’ll own the empire,” Sasuke continued. “The assets, the holdings, the legitimate fronts. Everything. Make it legally airtight. If I burn, she walks away untouchable. Rich. Free.”

The lawyer nodded silently and began scribbling notes.

Sasuke walked over to the decanter on the sideboard, poured a small glass of whiskey, and stared at the amber swirl.

“I can’t undo what I’ve done to her,” he muttered, half to himself. “I took everything. Her freedom. Her body. Her peace.”

He downed the drink in one go.

“This is the least I can do.”

He set the glass down and turned toward the window again, his reflection flickering faintly in the glass. Somewhere beyond the steel and stone, Sakura was probably curled on a couch, maybe reading something, maybe just resting a hand on her belly.

His hand curled into a fist.

“I love her,” he said, the words strangled and low. “I love her.”

The silence in the room shifted—something heavy, irreversible settling into place.

Suigetsu was the first to speak, voice almost reverent. “Boss... that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say something like that.”

Juugo’s voice was quieter. “So what now?”

Sasuke didn’t turn.

“Now I go to war.”

“But this time,” he whispered, almost to himself, “I don’t fight to rule. I fight to make sure she never has to kneel again.”

He closed his eyes.

Sakura Haruno... owns him now.

And he wasn’t sure whether it terrified him… or freed him.

Notes:

Hello everyone. I wanna start saying thank you to all who are still reading this story. I'm not gonna lie to you, I've been very close to give it all up, since I started to think that you, as readers, were no longer enjoying the story or where was it going, but after thinking it trough, I won't.

I love writing and I love this story and the characters (even when they're not mine), I owe it to myself to finish this even if no one likes it or reads it anymore. This has been my outlet and my escape, and I really enjoy what I've done. It's not perfect... but it's mine.

If you are still reading... thank you, really. It means the world to me, and I hope you stay until the end. <3

Chapter 14: Heartbeat, Interrupted

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

Oasis Tower – Medical Suite, Early Morning

The med-suite shimmered in the burnished gold of morning, the sun casting long streaks across the gleaming floors. Far below, the city churned with the weight of an oncoming war. Sirens, gunfire, rumor—it all blurred into white noise. But up here, on the edge of the world, there was only stillness. Temporary peace.

Hinata stood near the wide windows, wrapped in a pale shawl. Her cane rested beside her like a sentinel. Though her body bore the bruises of cruelty, her posture was steady, her eyes defiant. The scars on her soul, however, were still raw—aching for answers, for clarity, for him.

Menma leaned against the window, masked and still, the desert sun catching in the metal edge of his gauntlet. He was a ghost standing in daylight, real and not real all at once.

"You saved me," Hinata said, her voice soft but unwavering. "But you won’t let me stay.”

"You know why," he replied, not turning.

"Because of the war?"

"Because I’m not supposed to exist. Not yet. Not like this."

She stepped closer, the cane tapping gently against the floor. “I don’t care about your secrets. I care about you.”

He angled his mask slightly toward her. “And that’s exactly why you need to go. If you’re close to me, you're a target. For Sasuke. For Itachi. For anyone watching.”

Hinata frowned, pain flashing in her eyes. “But I’m stronger now. You saw it. I didn’t break.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And that’s what makes this harder.”

A silence fell—long and thick, filled with the weight of almosts. The space between them had always been sacred, filled with glances and silences instead of words. But now, it stretched like a thread fraying at the edges.

Hinata’s voice cracked, just a little. “I just got you back, Naruto. Why does this feel like goodbye?”

He moved then, finally, stepping toward her. A gloved hand lifted to touch her bruised cheek with aching gentleness.

“It’s not goodbye. It’s protection. I need to put out the fire before it reaches you again.”

She rested her forehead against his chest, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing it. “You better come back to me.”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

“I swear.”

Their embrace said what their words couldn’t—raw and quiet and forever. When they broke apart, neither quite let go.

A soft hiss of hydraulics interrupted the stillness. The door opened. Hanabi stood there, sharp and stunning in a tailored suit, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. Regal. Watchful. Suspicious.

“We’re ready, Hinata-chan,” she said calmly. “They’re waiting.”

Hinata nodded, slowly lifting her cane. She gave Naruto—Menma—one last glance, one last thread of unspoken hope, and limped past him.

But Hanabi lingered.

She looked him over like a weapon she didn’t yet trust. “Thank you,” she said smoothly. “For saving my sister.”

He gave no reply.

“But…” she stepped forward, eyes gleaming with something snake-like. “You can understand my curiosity. Why would a man with no allegiance to the Hyuga—no reason to risk everything—do this?”

Still, he said nothing.

Hanabi’s smile was tight and cold. “Who are you? And what do you want?”

His voice, when it came, was colder than steel. “Nothing. Keep her safe.”

Then he walked past her, disappearing into the corridor like a whisper cut short.

Hanabi turned to watch him go, brows furrowed. Her instincts buzzed.

A ghost with no name. A man who burned the world for her sister.

Who was he?

And what unfinished business still followed him like a shadow?

---

 

Oasis Tower – Hallway Outside the Suite

Yuri Romanoff leaned against the cold marble pillar just down the hall, his greyish-blue eyes following every movement beyond the suite’s doorway. Arms crossed, expression unreadable. He hadn’t moved during the reunion—hadn’t interrupted. That moment belonged to Hinata and Hanabi.

But now, as the masked man brushed past him, Yuri straightened.

No words were exchanged. Just a heavy silence between predators.

There was something off about the stranger. Too precise. Too silent. A soldier trained in blood and fire. Not a bodyguard. Not an errand boy. This one moved like he’d slit throats in the dark and slept soundly after.

Yuri waited until the footsteps vanished down the corridor before he turned to Gaara, who had stepped into view behind a pane of blackened glass.

“Your ghost is very effective, my friend.” Yuri's thick russian accent could be heard on his japanese.

Gaara merely lifted an eyebrow. 

Yuri scoffed. “But this...ghost leaves footprints. And bruises.”

Gaara’s silence was answer enough.

Yuri’s gaze returned to the empty hallway. His instincts had never failed him—not in Moscow, not in Konoha, not on any bloody border that divided crime from power. That man was hiding something. And his sister-in-law was at the center of it.

He pulled out his phone, opened a secure line to one of his Bratva operatives in Suna.

“Track the masked man who entered Oasis Tower under Gaara Sabaku’s protection this morning,” he ordered quietly. “Use satellite movement. Heat signatures. I want to know where he goes, who he speaks to, and what he leaves behind.”

A pause.

“And if he leads us anywhere near the Uchiha, or the Hyuga’s enemies… I want to be the first to know.”

He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Hanabi had gotten her sister back.

But Yuri Romanoff was no fool.

This was only the eye of the storm. And the man in the mask? He was no savior.

He was a weapon, sharpened by time—and Yuri intended to find out who was holding the hilt.

---

 

Uchiha Estate.

The morning sunlight bathed the bedroom in a golden haze, filtering through soft curtains and casting long, shifting shadows over the wooden floor. Sakura stood by the vanity, adjusting her blouse with quiet hands, her figure backlit by warmth and silence. Five months now, and the gentle swell of her belly was no longer something she could hide. Not from herself. Not from him.

Behind her, the door opened quietly.

She didn’t turn—she didn’t need to. Sasuke’s presence had become something she could feel in her bones, like weather rolling in.

“You’re going out,” he said.

She nodded, her eyes still on the mirror. “Checkup.”

Sasuke approached slowly, as though afraid to shatter something delicate. “I would have gone with you.”

“You were busy.”

A beat passed.

Then softly, “I heard you spoke with Kakashi.”

At that, she turned. Her expression sharpened, guarded. “So? Are you angry?”

“No,” he said. “Just… curious. You asked him about witness protection. About leaving.”

She didn’t answer right away. Her hands moved over her coat buttons with care, but her chest was tight.

“I want options,” she said eventually. “For me. For the baby.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

Another pause. Then—quiet, but unwavering—

“I’m sorry.”

The words caught her off guard. Her hands stilled.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. For taking away your choices. For turning love into something cruel.” He drew in a breath, his voice steady but hoarse. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

She stared at him, blinking hard. The sincerity in his eyes cut her deeper than any blade could.

“You can't just say that and expect it to fix things,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I don’t expect anything,” he replied. “But you deserve to hear it. From me. Fully. Without conditions.”

Her lip trembled despite herself. “You… you broke me.”

“I know.”

Tears welled in her green eyes, warm and uninvited. “And now I don’t know what’s real. I feel something for you, but I’m afraid it’s just trauma... warping me into something I don’t recognize.”

He took another step forward. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. Whatever you feel—it’s yours. Not mine. Not the past’s.”

Her breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“I don’t forgive you,” she whispered.

“I don’t forgive myself either.”

Another tear. Then another.

She didn’t step away when he gently reached out, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, his thumb catching the tear before it could fall.

“I just want to do right by you now,” he said. “Even if it’s too late.”

She looked up at him, eyes raw, throat tight. There was no hate left. Just ache. Confusion. And something terrifyingly close to hope.

Without thinking, without speaking, she leaned in.

Their lips met—softly, almost hesitantly. No heat, no demand. Just truth. Just two souls carrying too many scars, finding each other in the quiet.

When they parted, she lingered close.

“I don’t know what this is,” she whispered.

“Neither do I,” he murmured. “But I want to find out.”

---

 

Private Estate, Kyoto – Itachi’s War Room

The room was dim, lit only by the slow swirl of incense and the scarlet glow of a lacquered lantern. On the wall hung a single, ancient scroll: a hawk in mid-dive, talons extended. A predator. Like them.

Neji stood with his hands behind his back, posture perfect, gaze unmoving. His white eyes didn’t flinch as Itachi moved in a slow circle around him, barefoot, silent as ash.

“She’ll be vulnerable,” Itachi said softly. “And life… is made in moments like these. Fleeting. Irreplaceable.”

Neji’s jaw tensed. “You’re sure she’s going?”

“I have three eyes inside Konoha General. A private checkup. Scheduled. Quiet. Only one security detail.”

He stopped in front of Neji.

“Your silence has been useful,” he continued. “But loyalty… that’s something different. That must be proven.”

Itachi reached for the mahogany box on the table. With a click, it opened. Inside: a phone. A detonator.

Neji’s eyes dropped to the device for only a second.

“You’ll place it under the car,” Itachi said, voice like silk over poison. “A clean install. Nothing dramatic. Just... a lesson.”

“And if Sasuke’s with her?” Neji asked.

A pause. Then, a whisper of a smile.

“Then let the lesson be louder.”

The door opened. Kimimaro entered, eyes pale and lifeless, body like a blade in stillness.

“He will accompany you,” Itachi said. “As will three others. I trust him. As I hope to trust you.”

Neji’s fingers curled.

“Why her?” he finally asked. “You want Sasuke. She’s just—”

“She’s the thread,” Itachi cut in. “You want to unravel a man? Pull the thread that holds him together.”

The silence that followed was sharp. Almost reverent.

Neji nodded once, face unreadable. “Consider it done.”

Itachi turned back to the burning incense, gaze never leaving the spirals of smoke.

“Good. Let her screams remind my brother what it means to build a kingdom on borrowed time.”

---

 

Konoha General – Private Prenatal Suite

The walls were painted in warm creams, bathed in the soft glow of filtered sunlight through sheer curtains. A quiet space—meant to cradle life, not foreshadow death.

Sakura lay back on the reclined chair, gel slick on her belly, a nurse guiding the wand of the sonogram gently over her skin. The steady thump of the fetal heartbeat filled the room. Steady. Alive.

Sasuke stood beside her, silent, arms crossed—but his gaze never left the monitor.

“Would you like to know the sex?” the nurse asked.

Sakura nodded. She could feel Sasuke stiffen beside her.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse said, smiling. “Congratulations.”

For a moment, nothing. No sound. No breath.

Sakura turned her head slowly. Sasuke’s eyes were wide—not in shock, but in awe. The most feared man in Japan looked like a boy again, lost in something he didn’t yet understand. His lips parted slightly, like he was trying to say something and couldn’t.

His hand hovered over hers… and then finally, gently, settled on top.

Sakura’s throat tightened, tears stinging her lashes. Not because she was afraid. But because for the first time in so long… she felt joy.

“I think… she’s going to be beautiful,” she said softly.

Sasuke blinked rapidly, then gave a short, disbelieving chuckle. “Like her mother.”

She laughed, happy tears in her face. The moment lingered.

But outside the walls of that sanctuary, death was moving.

Exterior: Hospital Parking Garage – Lower Level

Kimimaro stood by the elevator shaft, silent and still, like a statue made of bone. The others moved with professional efficiency. The bomb was sleek, small, and undetectable by basic scans—hidden beneath the frame of the armored vehicle. Triggered by remote.

Neji stood farther back, hood up, fists clenched inside his coat.

“They’re still inside,” someone muttered.

Kimimaro checked his watch. “Not for long.”

 

Interior: Hospital – Exit Hallway

Suigetsu paced the corridor just outside the lobby, glancing at his phone. His brow furrowed.

Then a message blinked on screen.

“BOMB. CAR.”

His blood ran cold.

He spun toward the corridor just as Sasuke and Sakura emerged, talking softly. Their hands brushed. Sasuke looked lighter somehow. Human.

“GET AWAY FROM THE CAR!” Suigetsu shouted, voice cracking with urgency.

Juugo heard it too. He moved instantly, hand flying to Sasuke’s arm. Suigetsu sprinted forward, grabbing Sakura mid-step, dragging her backward—

The vehicle’s lights flashed once.

Click.

BOOM.

A fireball erupted from the undercarriage, throwing the armored car into the air. Glass and steel shattered like bones.

Suigetsu twisted, shielding Sakura with his body as they hit the ground hard.

Juugo’s back took the full brunt of debris shielding Sasuke.

The shockwave cracked the pavement.

Screams echoed across the garage.

Smoke swallowed everything.

And then—

Silence.

Chapter 15: The Puppetmasters - Part I

Notes:

Enjoy! I am sorry for taking so long in updating. Sometimes things get messy.

 

 

 

Screams. Sirens. Smoke.

The world was spinning sideways.

Sasuke tried to push himself up, but agony cracked through his ribs like thunder. He barely registered Juugo’s voice yelling his name or the hands grabbing at his arms. His ears were ringing, and his vision swam in grey and red.

He saw her.

Through the thick curtain of smoke, a stretcher was being pulled from the blast site. Sakura. Her hair matted with dust and blood. Her belly—

No.

She wasn’t moving.

“No—SAKURA!”

His voice tore from his throat, hoarse and broken, but the medics didn’t stop. They didn’t look back. They kept going. They had to. That was their job.

But that was his wife.

That was his baby.

Sasuke tried to rise again, only to be shoved back down by two paramedics.

“Sir, stay down—your ribs might be broken, we have to stabilize your spine—!”

“I don’t care!” he roared, voice cracked and trembling. “Let me go! I need to see her—I need—!”

His limbs were weak. Useless. He was reduced to flailing against belts and hands and voices, while she disappeared from his view—white sheet fluttering, wheels squeaking, voices growing faint.

“Sakura…”

The stretcher under him shifted as they lifted him. Everything hurt. But nothing compared to the hollow pit clawing through his chest.

He had promised to protect her.

And now, she was being pulled away from him, possibly dying, because he hadn’t seen it coming.

“Suigetsu?” he gasped, catching a flash of white in the debris. He couldn’t tell if he was alive or not.

It didn’t matter.

He had failed them all.

As they pushed him into the back of an ambulance, strapped and bleeding, Sasuke’s breathing grew shallow. Panic threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t feel her. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t do anything.

He was powerless.

And in that powerlessness, he felt something fracture deep inside him.

Not rage.

Not vengeance.

But a terror he didn’t know how to live with.

A world without Sakura.

Without his daughter.

“Juugo!” Sasuke rasped, choking on smoke and desperation. “Go with her. Don’t leave her side. I need to know—she’s—just go!”

Juugo hesitated, his own face cut and bloodied. “But Boss, you—”

“GO!” Sasuke snarled, rage and fear crashing through his voice like lightning. “She’s the only thing that matters. If she dies—if the baby—”

His words broke off, strangled by something deeper than pain.

He stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, blinking back the tears that blurred everything.

“Please,” he whispered, voice barely audible over the sirens. “Don’t take them from me…”

---

Somewhere in Kyoto

The room was dim—paneled in black marble, and veiled with sheer curtains that let in a diluted, blood-red glow from the sunset. A low monitor hummed on the wall, flickering with grainy security footage from outside the office.

The explosion played on a loop. Slow. Repeating. Beautiful in its violence.

Itachi stood still, perfectly composed, a porcelain teacup between his fingers. Not a tremble. Not a blink.

Neji, at his side, wore the expression of a man trying to feel nothing. He wanted to rise to the top, yes, but he didn't wanted to be involved in killing pregnant women, specially when said woman is Sasuke's wife.

Smoke bloomed across the screen like ink in water. Figures flew back, bodies crumpled. Chaos. Screams.

A small smirk tugged at Itachi’s lips, so faint it almost didn’t exist. He sipped his tea, calm and unsatisfied.

“So it begins,” he murmured.

Neji’s jaw twitched. “Your message to Sasuke… was heard.”

Itachi glanced sideways. “Was it, Hyūga? Or are you hoping it wasn’t?”

The words landed heavy, but his tone was airy, thoughtful—like he was discussing the weather.

Neji didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Kimimaro stood behind them like a statue carved in ivory, his cold eyes resting on Neji for a beat too long.

Itachi continued, almost sweetly. “There’s one more surprise waiting for Sasuke... in the hospital.” He swirled the remaining tea in his cup, the surface rippling like blood. “Let’s see how well he clings to love when the past walks in wearing a doctor’s coat.”

Neji’s brows drew in. But he said nothing. He didn’t dare ask. Not yet.

Itachi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He thinks he's protecting her. Let’s see what he protects when he realizes it was never about Sakura at all.”

He turned his back on the screen just as the bomb exploded again in silent playback, frozen at the moment fire kissed metal.

---

 

The fluorescent lights overhead blurred in streaks as the stretcher wheeled forward, cold air biting at Sasuke’s sweat-soaked skin. The gurney jostled beneath him — too fast, too loud. The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped. Neither had the pounding in his chest.

“BP’s dropping, ninety over sixty!”
“We need imaging — possible pneumothorax.”
“Prep trauma bay three—stat.”

The words meant little, but the tones — the urgency — pressed into him like a second heartbeat. Still, he only cared about one thing.

“Where is she?” His voice cracked, dry, almost hoarse. “Where the fuck is she?!”

No one answered.

A medic shoved an oxygen mask onto his face. Another slid an IV into his arm. He knocked it away, tried to sit up, pain screaming through his ribs like broken glass.

“Sakura—” He growled, pushing against the gurney’s straps. “Sakura!”

A nurse tried to hold him down, and he shoved her aside with what strength he had left. His hand darted out, grabbing the nearest doctor by the collar, yanking him down.

“Tell me if she’s alive.”

The doctor stiffened — startled, pinned by eyes dark with panic. Blood from Sasuke’s brow trickled down to his temple, warm and slow.

“You have three fractured ribs, internal bleeding, and possible spinal trauma,” the doctor snapped. “Lie down or you won’t make it to surgery.”

“Tell me if she’s alive first.” The tremor in Sasuke’s voice betrayed everything. “Tell me if… if the baby—”

The doctor hesitated. That single pause almost unraveled him.

“She’s in the next trauma bay,” the man finally muttered, low and tight. “They’re working on her. That’s all I know.”

That wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

But his body betrayed him. The fight was slipping. Gravity yanked him back down to the mattress. His fingers loosened from the doctor’s coat. His world narrowed to a tunnel of light and footsteps and chaos.

And one thought.

Not again.

Not her.

---

 

The world returned in fragments.

A sharp beep. The scent of antiseptic. A cold sheet against her skin. Sakura’s lashes fluttered open, pupils narrowing against the harsh fluorescent ceiling. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Or why her body ached like it had been carved open.

Her throat was dry. Her tongue like paper. She turned her head slowly.

A nurse stood beside her, checking a monitor, writing something on a chart.

“W… where…” Her voice cracked. Her mind sharpened in an instant. The baby.
Her hand shot down — trembling — searching for the swell that had become part of her.

Nothing.
Flat. Wrapped in gauze and pain.

Her breath hitched. Her heart began to race.

“My baby—where’s my baby?”

The nurse’s eyes widened. “Haruno-san—Sakura—please, don’t move too much. You’ve just come out of surgery.”

But Sakura was already trying to sit up, pain blooming from her abdomen like fire. Her chest heaved. “Where’s my baby?! What happened—what did you—” Her voice cracked, raw with terror.

The nurse gently pushed her shoulders back. “Listen to me. She’s alive. She’s okay. But you both were in critical condition when you came in. We had to perform an emergency C-section to save you both.”

Sakura froze.

“She is alive?” she whispered.

The nurse smiled softly. “Yes. She’s small, but strong. She's in the NICU right now, under constant monitoring. She’s stable.”

Tears pooled in Sakura’s eyes, blurring the nurse’s face. Relief crashed through her in a tidal wave. She let herself fall back into the pillows, sobbing without shame. Her arms felt empty. Her chest ached not from stitches, but from longing.

“She’s okay,” Sakura repeated like a prayer. “She’s okay.”

The nurse placed a warm hand on hers. “She's strong, like her mother.”

Sakura's tears fell onto the pristine white sheets, the coldness of them a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. The nurse offered a gentle pat, trying to soothe her, but it was the words that brought a flicker of peace to the storm in her chest. The baby was okay. She was officially a mother.

---

 

Safehouse, Northern Konoha Outskirts

 

The safehouse was quiet — too quiet. The kind of quiet that Kakashi had long ago learned to fear.

Sai entered the living room from the small kitchen, two mugs of tea in hand. Kakashi didn’t look up from the tablet in front of him until the notification pinged. A simple banner across the top: “Explosion Outside of Konoha private prenatal clinic.”

Kakashi clicked it before his breath caught. Sai stopped mid-step.

“Sasuke and Sakura,” Kakashi muttered, voice low, disbelieving.

Sai moved quickly, setting down the tea without a word and reading over Kakashi’s shoulder. The article had only speculation — two injured, hospital lockdown, suspected organized crime retaliation. But they didn’t need confirmation. They knew.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

“She said she’d only be there for a routine checkup,” Sai finally said, a strange roughness in his usually calm voice.

Kakashi’s jaw tightened beneath the mask. “This wasn’t random.”

He stood, pacing toward the boarded window, then ran a hand through his hair.
“She came to us for a way out. Witness protection. Start over. We swore we’d get her and the baby out clean.”

Sai folded his arms, frowning. “We didn’t move fast enough.”

Kakashi turned toward him. “Or maybe we waited too long hoping Sasuke would save her himself.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Then Kakashi spoke again, this time quieter. “She’s not just another witness.”
Sai looked up sharply, and Kakashi met his gaze without flinching.
“You know that too.”

Sai didn’t reply, but the faint twitch in his brow betrayed him. After a pause, he grabbed his coat.

“What are you doing?” Kakashi asked.

Sai paused at the door. “Contingency plan.” His voice was clipped. Cold.
Then added, under his breath, almost reluctantly, “And to see if she’s still alive.”

Kakashi stared after him, then sat back down, eyes fixed on the flickering news feed. His fingers trembled slightly as he thought about Sasuke.

“Hold on, kiddo…” he murmured. “You’re not done yet.”

---

 

The hallway buzzed with low murmurs and beeping machines. Nurses moved briskly, whispering in corners. Ino stepped out of the elevator with urgency in her stride, a bouquet of white lilies clutched in one hand, her phone clutched tightly in the other. Her blonde hair was tied up hastily, her eyes red-rimmed from crying in the car.

Then she saw him.

Sai.

Standing alone, hands in his pockets, facing Sakura’s door.

Her heart dropped like a stone.

“You’re kidding me,” she hissed, storming toward him. “You’re here?”

Sai turned, surprise flickering briefly across his stoic face. “Ino.”

“Don’t ‘Ino’ me,” she snapped. Her voice broke with emotion. “You were supposed to protect her! You could have got her out way earlier, but you just saw her as a fucking tool!"

Sai didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed.

“We didn’t plan this...”

“No shit!” she said, voice rising. “You kept her there because she was useful. Because she fit the goddamn plan. She’s not some tool in your hands, Sai—she’s my best friend. She almost died today. And so did her baby. I thought you were the good guys!”

He was silent. She was right, he knew it. To be honest, Sakura never mattered to him. Not that much. He wanted info and something he could use to destroy the Uchiha. His parents deserved to be avenged. 

But her words stung. 

“Get out of my way,” Ino breathed, brushing past him and toward the room.

But Sai’s voice stopped her just before she reached the door.

“She asked for witness protection, Ino. That's why I'm here. You think I don’t care, but... I do. I care more than you know.”

Ino didn’t turn around. She swallowed, then entered the room.

Sakura was awake, pale, fragile-looking in a way Ino had never seen before. Tubes connected to her arm. Her lips were cracked, her green eyes still glassy from anesthesia. But when she turned her head and saw Ino — everything inside her seemed to crack open.

“Pig...” she croaked weakly.

Ino let out a tearful laugh, instantly closing the distance.

“You absolute idiot,” Ino whispered, voice breaking as she leaned down and hugged her tightly — mindful of the fresh stitches on her abdomen.

Sakura trembled against her. “She’s okay. My baby... she’s okay.”

“I know,” Ino whispered, brushing Sakura’s hair back gently. “I’m here. I’ve got you now, Forehead.”

They stayed like that for a long time — just two girls who had once played with Barbies, now caught in a war neither of them had ever truly signed up for.

---

 

Hyūga Residence

Steam curled from a delicate porcelain cup as Hinata wrapped her hands around it, her posture fragile yet composed. She was still recovering — the bruises beneath her eyes hadn’t fully faded, and the bandages around her ribs restricted her breathing. But her gaze remained fixed on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

“Breaking News: A car explosion outside Konoha General has left several injured, including Uchiha Sasuke and his wife, Uchiha Sakura—”

The screen showed aerial footage of the chaos, smoke still thick, sirens screaming, bodies rushed away on stretchers.

Hanabi sat across from her, legs crossed, tea untouched. Her eyes, too, were on the screen — but her thoughts were elsewhere.

“They survived,” Hinata murmured, barely above a breath. Relief flickered through her tone.
Hanabi didn’t respond.

“She looked... peaceful last time I saw her. It was at the wedding, right?” Hinata added. “Even with everything going on. I think she was starting to believe she’d be safe.”

Hanabi finally lifted her cup, took a sip, and placed it back down.

“No one’s safe until this war ends. And we both know how it ends.”

Hinata turned her head. “You mean when Sasuke’s dead?”

Hanabi smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "When we... are the ones in control."

The news anchor’s voice droned in the background. Surveillance footage, statements from the hospital, speculation from reporters. Hinata looked back at the screen. Her hands tightened around her cup.

“You don’t care what happens to them, do you?”

A beat of silence.

Hanabi’s voice was smooth, distant. “I care about who controls the future. Whether that’s a baby or a bomb, it makes no difference to me.”

Hinata’s knuckles turned white.

Hanabi stood.

“Drink your tea, sister. This is just the beginning.”

---

Gaara sat at the end of a long table, fingers steepled, staring at the encrypted feed on his tablet.

Naruto—Menma—was pacing behind him like a caged lion.

“Tell me again how the hell they let this happen,” Naruto growled, fury vibrating in every step. “Where was Suigetsu’s team? Where was the perimeter?! She’s not just some pawn in this anymore!”

“She never was,” Gaara replied calmly. “That’s the mistake everyone keeps making.”

“And the baby?”

Gaara turned the screen so Naruto could read the preliminary medical intel: Alive. Delivered via emergency cesarean. Both stable, condition under observation.

Naruto let out a heavy, shaken breath and collapsed into a chair.

“That’s his daughter, Gaara. Sasuke’s. If there was anything keeping him tethered to this life… it’s her.”

Gaara nodded slowly. “Which is exactly why they tried to take her.”

In his head, Gaara was ploting. Always plotplottinging. This was officially the beginning of the war. He smiled. Let it finally begin.

---

 

Konoha General – Midnight

The hospital was quiet now. The chaos had dulled to the rhythmic beeping of machines and the soft shuffle of rubber soles. Sasuke sat in a darkened room, a sling around his shoulder, IV in his arm, dried blood on his temple. He hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Not with Sakura in another room. Not after what happened.

A nurse entered without knocking. But it wasn’t a nurse.

Sasuke tensed. “You.”

A figure emerged.

Pale. Tall. Serpentine.

A voice like velvet and venom:

“Sasuke… It’s been a long time. You've grown into such a handsome... man.”

Sasuke’s blood turned cold.

Orochimaru smiled.

“I heard congratulations are in order. A daughter… How precious.”

 

Chapter 16: The Puppetmasters - Part II

Summary:

The war starts now.

Notes:

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

Hospital Room. Late Night.

The beeping machines faded beneath the buzz in his ears.

Sasuke stood frozen at the threshold of his private room, the silhouette by the window as familiar as it was nightmarish. Orochimaru hadn’t aged a day — that same sickly smile curled on his lips like a secret too vile to speak aloud.

“You’ve grown well, Sasuke-kun,” he whispered. “A man. A father. How time flies.”

The room shrank around Sasuke’s heartbeat. He couldn’t move. His lungs drew in air, but it felt toxic — like the heavy scent of formaldehyde and antiseptic clinging to childhood nightmares.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sasuke’s voice was low. Controlled. Barely.

Orochimaru didn’t answer. He merely walked slowly towards him "I saw her,” he purred, too softly. “So tiny. So... pure. It would be a shame if she grew up... fractured. Like her father.”

Sasuke flinched — not from the words, but from the tone. That same tone he remembered from locked doors. From fever dreams. From blank spaces in his memories, he had long convinced himself were mercy.

His chest rose and fell, the air thick and hard to breathe. “You touched me,” he muttered, his fists clenched. “You rewrote me.”

Orochimaru’s eyes gleamed. “Not just memories, Sasuke-kun. You know that by now.”

The room tilted.

A child’s voice — his voice — echoed faintly in the back of his mind: “I want to go home.” His father left him there... with him. Alone. With Orochimaru.
The smell of old stone. The sound of boots. The clatter of metal.

“If you want power, you’ll do as I say.” Fugaku's voice was clear, firm, detached—no room for argument.

Sasuke’s legs nearly buckled, but his rage rooted him.

“I wonder…” Orochimaru leaned forward, like a vulture descending. “Will your daughter beg like you did?”

Everything went white.

Sasuke’s scream was primal. The crash of bone against bone. Orochimaru stumbled back, laughing — always laughing — even as Sasuke tackled him to the floor and unleashed hell.

“You sick bastard!”

Fists. Blood.

“You’ll never go near her!”

Teeth grinding.

“You’ll never touch anything again—!”

The door slammed open. Juugo burst in, eyes wide — but froze at the sight.

Sasuke was on top of Orochimaru, his hands bruised and red, breath coming in ragged bursts, eyes blazing with a grief forged over decades. Orochimaru’s face was a ruin of blood and broken bone, the twisted smile finally erased.

“Sasuke!” Juugo rushed in and grabbed him, his voice urgent but low. “Not here. You can’t do this here.”

Sasuke didn’t resist. His knuckles trembled, but his stare remained locked on the crumpled form beneath him — Orochimaru coughing wetly, each breath a gurgle. The air felt scorched, and the room spun with violence and memory, but fury kept him upright.

Juugo, steady as ever, released Sasuke and turned on the monster. He yanked Orochimaru up by the collar, his massive hand like a vice.

“Tell Itachi this is only the beginning,” he snarled, dragging Orochimaru’s body up until their eyes met. “Tell him we’re coming. Retribution is near.”

He let him drop with a sickening thud.

Orochimaru choked on a breath, laughter gone, silenced by his own blood.

Outside the hospital room, two of Sasuke’s men stood at the far end of the hallway in plain clothes—nothing overt, just cold-eyed and sharp-jawed, the kind of men nurses instinctively avoided. They blended into the clinical chaos, but they weren’t here to help.

Juugo stepped out first and gave a subtle nod. One of the men moved to intercept a nurse about to enter the room and calmly whispered something in her ear—flashing a badge that wasn’t quite real, but convincing enough under pressure. Hospital security had already been warned to keep a distance. The Uchiha name carried weight, and the staff had been paid to look away.

Orochimaru, now barely conscious, was dragged out in a wheelchair by another operative dressed as an orderly. His bloodied face was hidden under a medical mask and surgical cap, his arms strapped under the guise of "sedation protocol."

No one asked questions. No one made eye contact.

By the time they reached the service elevator—the one no one used unless they were told to—they were ghosts in the system. Off the record. No cameras. No witnesses.

Yakuza business didn’t bleed into the police report.

After he was taken out of the room, Sasuke's legs gave out. He let himself fall on the hospital bed, with cold sweat on his brow. His knuckles were freshly bandaged, his body sore, but his mind sharper than it had been in years. Juugo stood at the corner of the room, arms crossed, silent as always until spoken to.

“I should’ve killed him years ago,” Sasuke muttered, staring out the small window at the hazy lights of Tokyo. “I thought cutting ties would be enough. I thought leaving the past buried meant it couldn’t dig itself out.”

Juugo didn't speak right away. He rarely did when Sasuke was like this—guarded, wounded, dangerous.

“You were a kid,” Juugo said simply, gently. “He had power. Influence. People turned a blind eye. Fugaku made sure of that.”

Sasuke flinched. Not from the words, but from the truth in them.

“I don’t care about the past anymore,” he lied.

Juugo tilted his head. “You just beat it into the floor.”

A dry, bitter laugh escaped Sasuke’s throat. “That was for me.” He finally turned, eyes darker than they’d been in a long time. “But what he hinted at—about my daughter…” His voice cracked, barely audible. “No one touches her. No one even thinks about her. Not while I’m breathing.”

Juugo nodded. “And Sakura?”

Sasuke’s gaze dropped to his lap, his hand twitching as if reaching for something no longer there. “I failed her. Again. Just like I failed everyone else I ever tried to protect.”

“She’s alive. The baby’s alive. You’re alive,” Juugo said firmly. “And Orochimaru is in pieces. That’s something.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

“…Suigetsu?” Sasuke finally asked.

“Awake,” Juugo answered. “But he’s banged up. Burn damage to his right side, a cracked rib, concussion. He joked about looking like a sushi roll.”

Sasuke’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smirk. “Stupid bastard.”

“He asked if you were okay.”

That quieted him. For a long moment, Sasuke said nothing. Then, with eyes as sharp as shattered glass, he stood.

“I’m done waiting. No more bombs. No more warnings. Itachi made this personal.”

Juugo straightened. “What’s the move?”

“We strike from the inside. Cut off his loyalties. Destroy his alliances. Slowly.” Sasuke’s voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “By the time I’m done, he’ll be alone. Just like he wanted me to be.”

Juugo watched him closely, his loyalty absolute. “Then I’m with you. All the way.”

Sasuke looked at him, truly looked—tired, haunted, but burning. “Thank you.”

And for the first time in years, the word meant something.

---

 

The soft beep of the monitors and the filtered sunlight pouring through the blinds gave the room a false sense of peace. Ino sat beside the bed, watching Sakura's green eyes look trough the window on her left.  Her eyes — once full of fire and kindness — were now steel. The set of her jaw, the sharpness of her gaze, spoke of someone who had walked through fire and come out colder.

“I’m not waiting anymore, Ino,” Sakura said flatly, eyes locked on the window. “No more hiding behind Sasuke. No more praying for someone else to fix this.”

Ino blinked, taken aback. “What are you saying?”

“I’m going to kill Itachi myself.”

The words dropped like ice water.

Ino leaned forward. “Sakura—what the hell are you talking about? You just had a baby. You almost died—twice. Let Sasuke—”

“No.” Sakura’s voice was low, final. “He’s done enough. All of you have. I can’t afford to wait for someone else to protect me or my daughter.”

Ino stared at her, struggling to find words. “You’re serious.”

Sakura turned to look at her. “Dead serious.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ino said, voice trembling slightly. “You’ve changed. You… this is not the way.”

Sakura didn’t flinch. “Good. Maybe that’s the only thing that will keep her safe.”

Before Ino could respond, the door opened and Sai entered, his expression unreadable, but his steps purposeful.

“I wanted to talk to you alone,” he said, glancing at Ino with a polite nod before turning to Sakura. “The safe house is ready. New identities, transport, backup. You and the baby can disappear tonight.”

Sakura looked at him, calm and cold. “I’m not going.”

Sai frowned slightly. “Sakura, this was the plan. Once the baby was born—”

“That plan was made before I knew how deep this went,” she cut in. “Interpol’s been compromised. I know... because Sasuke told me about how many of your people work under the Yakuza. I don’t know who to trust anymore — besides myself. And until Itachi is gone, we’ll never be safe.”

Sai studied her for a long moment. “You think you can kill him.”

“No,” she said. “I know I will.”

Ino exhaled slowly, watching her friend like a stranger. The girl who once cried over failing her cardiology test and not having enough to pay her student loans was gone. What sat in that bed now was a storm — quiet, calculated, and ready to kill.

Sai nodded once. “Then we help you finish this.”

Ino looked between them, heart heavy. “Just promise me one thing,” she whispered. “Don’t lose yourself completely.”

Sakura looked at her friend, finally smiling softly. She nodded while holding Ino's hand and squizzing it reassuringly.

“I'll try." 

Sakura’s gaze didn’t waver as she looked at Sai, her voice low and deliberate. “Talk to Sasuke. Tell him we need to join forces.”

Sai stiffened, the words hitting harder than a bullet. “You’re asking me to work with him?”

“You want Itachi dead?” she asked. “So do I. So does Sasuke. We’re not going to win this by staying divided.”

Sai looked away, jaw clenched. “His family killed mine.”

The room went still.

“When I was fifteen,” he continued, voice quieter but filled with something sharp, “my parents were caught in a crossfire between the Uchiha and a rival syndicate. Sasuke’s father gave the order. They were nobodies. Collateral.”

Ino flinched, but said nothing. She’d never heard him talk about it before.

“That’s why I became a cop. Why I followed Gaara,” Sai went on. “He wanted to take down the Uchiha to rise. I wanted them dead because it was personal.”

Sakura’s voice was steel. “Then kill Itachi with us. Make sure the ones who turned your pain into business burn for it.”

Sai was silent for a long beat. “You trust Sasuke that much?”

“I trust what we both want. That’s enough.” Sakura's voice held finality.

The air was tight with history, with ghosts. Finally, Sai exhaled and nodded, his voice gravel. “Fine. I’ll speak to him.”

Ino looked between them, anxiety twisting in her gut. “This is insane.”

Sakura’s answer was a cold whisper: “It’s war.”

---

 

Suigetsu lay on the hospital bed, bandaged and bruised but very much alive, his expression tired as he watched Sasuke pace the room with a storm in his eyes. They had been outlining next steps—names to call, alliances to solidify—but the atmosphere shifted the moment the door opened.

Ino entered first, pushing a wheelchair. Sakura sat in it, pale but composed, her presence like a sudden change in gravity. Sasuke froze.

His onyx eyes met hers.

And something fractured.

Without a word, Sasuke crossed the room, knelt before her, and bowed his head to her lap. His fingers curled into the thin fabric of the hospital gown, and his body trembled just once—barely visible.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rough. “For everything. For what you’ve had to endure.”

Sakura’s eyes watered, lips trembling as she stared at him in shock. Slowly, gently, her hand moved to his head, caressing his raven-hair with quiet forgiveness.

The room was still. Ino blinked rapidly, glancing at Sai—who stood behind her, frozen. His expression was unreadable, but his shock was clear.

This was Sasuke Uchiha—kneeling. Begging. Loving.

Sasuke rose only after a long moment, his hands lingering against Sakura’s arm. Then, with a soft tenderness no one expected from him, he kissed her forehead.

Suigetsu let out a low whistle under his breath. “Damn,” he muttered with a smirk, “guess she really did tame the dragon.”

Sakura turned her attention to Suigetsu, eyes filled with a new strength. She stood, shakily at first, Ino ready to assist—but she walked on her own. Each step toward him was deliberate.

Then she did the unexpected—she leaned down and hugged him.

Suigetsu’s eyes widened. “Uh—what’s—?”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For protecting us. For being there.”

He blinked, awkwardly patting her back with one hand. “Yeah… no problem. You’d have done the same for me, right?” His voice tried for humor, but it cracked with something deeper.

When she stepped back, the group seemed changed—bonded by trauma, sharpened by rage, softened by connection.

Sasuke’s voice cut through the air again. “We call Hanabi. Gaara too.”

Suigetsu’s grin returned, feral this time. “Now we’re talking.”

Sakura straightened, her eyes blazing. “It’s time to finish this.”

---

 

INT. UNDERGROUND COUNCIL ROOM – NIGHT

The room glows with dim amber light. Itachi stands at the head of a long table, surrounded by stone-faced men—bosses of syndicates, corrupt businessmen, old blood, and new monsters. Maps, screens, weapons. A war table for a modern empire.

His voice is low, resonant.

“We were never born into power. We took it. Crawled through filth while the world crowned cowards. And now they want to rewrite the game we built in blood?”

He pauses, gaze sharp.

“We were ghosts once. Now, we are kings. And kings do not kneel.”

His men nod. One of the elders slams a closed fist on the table. Another loads a pistol, reverent as a priest before mass.

The war has begun.

.

.

INT. HOSPITAL – ICU ROOM – SAME TIME

Silence, but for the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor and the hum of machines.

Behind a glass wall, a tiny figure lies in an incubator—barely bigger than a breath. Sasuke and Sakura stand side by side, watching their daughter. Tubes. Monitors. Fragile life.

Sakura’s hand is wrapped around Sasuke’s.

No words are exchanged.

The pain is carved into their faces, but so is the steel. The grief. The rage. The clarity.

Sasuke’s jaw clenches. Sakura’s eyes narrow, lips tight with quiet promise.

They would win this war. For her.

No matter the cost.

 

 

Chapter 17: The fall of Olympus

Notes:

Enjoy

 

 

 

 

POV: Uchiha Itachi

The quiet before the storm was a lie. Three days have passed since his Ototo came out of the hospital, along with his little bitch. He allowed them to lick their wounds, after all, there was no honor in killing a wounded dog.

He stood above the city like a god—untouchable, calculating, prepared. The skyline of Konoha burned gold under the early evening sun as he tightened his gloves, the rooftop wind cutting sharp against his coat. He had waited long enough. No more threats, no more taunts. It was time to burn the roots of rebellion.

“Strike them simultaneously,” he ordered, his voice low, reverent, like a priest before a ritual. Around him, the highest-ranking members of the old guard nodded. Yakuzas from Kirigakure, Kyoto, Amegakure—all loyal to the cause, all owing their crown to him. “Hyūga. Sabaku. My brother.”

And Sakura.

He was a king. He would not give up his crown that easily. It was time for his little brother to remember his place.

---

Hyūga Estate — 7:06 PM

He didn’t need to see it to feel it—Hanabi’s compound erupted in gunfire.

The bratva did not go down easily.

Yuri Romanoff had fortified the estate with enough Russian steel to hold off an army. But Itachi had sent Neji. He knew the Hyuga estate inside and out. It's weak points.

From the surveillance comms in his ear, he could hear the reports.

“Explosives on the western wall—blocked. They had thermal sensors.”
“Hyūga bitch is using her men like bait. They’re bleeding us.”
“We underestimated them—fuck—NEJI’S DOWN—”

Static.

Itachi’s jaw twitched, but his mind was focused on his objective.

---

Oasis Tower, Suna — 7:09 PM

He’d expected Gaara to crumble under pressure.

Instead, he’d walked into hell.

His masked guard dog was leading the charge in black, cutting down attackers like a possessed demon. Sabaku's men trained in desert warfare moved through the shadows like ghosts. The airwaves crackled with chaos.

“They were waiting for us. Gaara isn’t hiding—he’s hunting us.”
“Menma just took out three lieutenants—he’s not human.”
“FUCKING FALL BACK—”

Another loss.

Itachi's mask of calm did not change. 

---

Uchiha Mansion — 7:12 PM

This was the true battle.

Sasuke’s compound had fallen into eerie silence when Itachi arrived with his elite, Kimimaro beside him. His men got out of their cars. The clicking of guns, became the chorus of the night.

He stepped through the gates, almost reverently.  This was his childhood home. The chandeliers glittered like memories. The scent of camellias lingered in the halls. For a second, the ghosts of their mother walked beside him, and the ghost of his father looked at him from the end of the hallway. His dark eyes, cold, vengeful. Sasuke had to pay for his betrayal to the clan.

“She’s in the east wing,” one of his men said.

Sakura.

He smiled faintly. His brother’s heart was a weapon. And he was about to break it.

The men slowly started to approach their objective, with military expertise, but they failed to notice, they had walked into a trap. From several rooms and areas of the mansion, Sasuke's men appeard like a swarm, led by Juugo and Suigetsu. It became a war zone in a second. Bullets flew, swords clashed, and men fell. But Itachi kept moving. Kimimaro, always loyal followed close behind.

Itachi moved like a phantom through the crossfire. He barely flinched when one of his men dropped beside him, his throat opened by a blade. Juugo’s roar echoed from the corridor, and Suigetsu’s laughter cut through the chaos like a war drum. But Itachi’s eyes never wavered.

He had one goal.

And he would walk through fire for it.

Kimimaro covered his flank, killing with quiet precision. They stepped over bloodied bodies. Smoke licked the ceiling. One of Sasuke’s men lunged from the shadows—Itachi raised his silenced pistol and put a bullet through his eye without slowing his stride.

The east wing loomed ahead.

“She’s close,” Kimimaro murmured.

“She’s bait,” Itachi said, almost amused. “But we’ll take the trap with us.”

They reached the nursery doors—lavish, pink-painted, untouched by blood.

Itachi lifted a hand to signal halt—

The floor exploded beneath them.

Concrete buckled. Wood shattered. The air turned to heat and shrapnel as Sasuke’s clay charges—hidden within the floorboards—ignited in a deafening roar. Kimimaro threw himself in front of Itachi, shielding him from the worst of the blast. Both were thrown back, crashing into opposite walls.

Blood ran from Itachi’s temple.

He stood, shaking the dust from his coat, and found Sasuke standing in the smoke.

A silhouette framed by firelight.

The devil him and his father had created. He would be proud under other circumstances. His little brother was an artist when it came to violence.

“You tried to kill my daughter and my wife.” Sasuke’s voice was hoarse, low. “You’ll die instead.”

Their eyes met—and nothing else mattered.

Time slowed. Sound died.

Uchiha to Uchiha.

Then, they moved.

The clash was brutal.

Not elegant. Not precise. Raw.

Sasuke moved like vengeance incarnate, blade a blur of fury. Itachi matched him—refined, efficient, surgical. Sparks burst from steel, painting the walls in gold. The very floor cracked beneath their steps, old wood snapping like bones.

Sasuke’s Thoughts:

He’s always been ahead. Always stronger. Always silent. Even when he lied. Even when he killed her. Even when I begged for truth and he gave me riddles.

Tonight, I end the cycle. I end him.

Itachi’s Thoughts:

Look at him. Still clinging to a broken heart. Still chasing ghosts. I raised him like a blade. I sharpened him on grief. Now he turns that blade on me.

Let him try.

Kimimaro, watched the fight in awe, his own bloodlust simmering. But he knew his role. He left quietly, leaving the brothers to finish their feud, while he went for his objective. Sakura.

He checked several rooms, but there was no luck. He was about ot give up when he caught a glimpse of pink, moving at the end of the hallway. He followed her, until he reached the studio. It was quiet, too quiet. Until he heard a 'click' behind him. He raised his hands slowly and dropped his gun, making a heavy 'tud' noise.

"I'm not your enemy." His voice remained controlled, calm.

Sakura didn't spoke, her gun firm, aimed to the man's back. He slowly turned around and looked into her green eyes. "I'm here to help you out."

"Could've fooled me." Sakura's voice was cold, unwavering. The barrel of her gun didn't move a muscle. She'd been ready for this, for Itachi's men. For a month, she'd practiced her breathing, her grip, her aim. But she hadn't expected it to be like this—so quiet, so personal.

"Lady... listen. Suigetsu had an informant this whole time. Who do you think that is?" Kimimaro's voice was a calm whisper, as if to soothe her, "The one who gave him intel from Itachi's movements? That was me. The one who warned him about the bomb? Me."

Sakura's grip tightened on the gun. "Why should I believe you?"

"You have the gun. If you thought I was lying, you'd have already pulled the trigger."

Sakura chuckled. "I'm going to need more than that."

Kimimaro sighed. He slowly reached towards his pocket, and Sakura shot right next to him as a warning. "Careful," she said.

He nodded to then take out a picture. He handed it over to her, and she carefully reached for it, still looking at him dead in the eyes. She looked at it and saw a young girl that resembled Kimimaro. White long hair and hazel eyes, no older than 17.

"That was my older sister. Fugaku... raped her and killed her. Made it look as if she OD'd. You get it now?"

Sakura looked at the picture and then him. She hesitated a little, "You could be making it up."

He shrugged. "Then shoot."

Sakura's eyes searched his, looking for deceit. But all she saw was pain, and the same coldness she saw in her husband's gaze every time he talked about his father.

"If you fuck me over, I'll shoot you." Sakura's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the tremble in her hand betrayed the fear she tried so desperately to hide.

Kimimaro nodded.

"Walk in front of me." Sakura's voice was a knife's edge.

---

Uchiha Mansion — 7:21 PM
POV: Itachi

Their fight had spilled through the east wing, a trail of splintered walls and bloodied footprints marking their path. Sasuke struck like a berserker, every swing of his blade fueled by righteous fury, grief, and desperation. But Itachi… Itachi was cold. Precise. A killer long past the need for anger.

He ducked a vicious slash and countered with a rib-cracking elbow, sending Sasuke crashing through a decorative screen. Wood exploded behind him.

“You’re reckless,” Itachi said, voice calm even as blood ran down his brow. “She’s made you soft.”

Sasuke wiped his mouth, spit crimson onto the floor. “She’s made me human.”

He launched again.

This time, Itachi wasn’t fast enough. The tip of Sasuke’s blade scraped across his ribs, drawing a line of blood.

Itachi grimaced.

He could taste it now. His blood. His brother’s. All of it.

The fire in his chest wasn’t rage anymore—it was purpose. He wasn't the boy who knelt in the ash of his family’s bones. He was the man who would burn the old gods.

“You lied about everything,” Sasuke growled between breaths. “About our mother. About Fugaku. You rewrote the past and turned me into your soldier.”

“You always wanted a monster to blame,” Itachi murmured. “So I became one.”

Their blades met again, and the clash sent sparks across the walls. Glass shattered. A portrait of their parents fell, its frame splintering on the marble floor.

The sound of breaking pasts.

---

Uchiha Mansion, East wing — 7:23 PM
POV: Sakura

They moved through the mansion in silence, Sakura keeping her gun trained on Kimimaro’s back.

Her legs ached. Her throat was raw from the smoke. But her mind was sharp.

She replayed what he said again and again.

Fugaku raped and killed his sister.

The part of her that still clung to the idea of justice—of systems and law—wanted to collapse under the weight of it. But the woman who had slept next to Sasuke for months, the one who had played the game and spilled blood to survive, understood it far too well.

Pain made people choose impossible things.

Kimimaro stopped in front of a concealed door behind a bookcase. “The emergency tunnel leads to the greenhouse. From there, you’re five minutes to the back exit. Two guards on rotation. I’ll take care of them.”

Sakura didn’t lower the gun. “Why help me?”

His voice was tired. “Because I’m done helping men like Itachi become gods.”

Sakura's finger hovered over the trigger.

Then a sudden explosion rocked the house again—louder this time. Closer.

Sakura stumbled, catching herself on the wall.

From deep within the east wing came the unmistakable sound of something massive falling. Marble cracking. A scream—Sasuke’s? Or Itachi’s?

Her heart slammed in her chest.

“I have to go to him.”

Kimimaro turned, surprised. “You’ll only slow him down—”

“I’m not leaving him to die alone.” Her voice was steel. “Now move.”

Kimimaro studied her for a moment, then stepped aside.

“Try not to get in my line of fire.”

He offered a small smile. “Try not to shoot me in the back.”

They moved fast. Every hallway was filled with smoke or blood. Kimimaro took point, but Sakura wasn’t far behind. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her fingers numb from how hard she gripped the weapon.

She had chosen her side.

---

Konoha General — 7:24 PM
POV: Orochimaru

The ICU was quiet. White walls. Soft lighting. Rows of cribs. Innocent breathing.

The serpent always struck in silence.

Orochimaru moved like a shadow, face hidden behind a surgical mask, eyes crinkled with mock kindness. The ID badge pinned to his chest read Dr. Asahi, a name borrowed from a dead man in the morgue. His gloved hands hovered over the crib with reverence, as if he were touching divinity itself.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, so young. 

"Your parents made too many enemies, little one," he murmured. "But I… I will give you purpose."

His fingers reached for the infant—

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said from behind.

Orochimaru froze.

The reflection in the glass showed two figures in white coats, surgical masks still on. One of them was tall, silver-haired, with a single exposed eye. The other was lean, expression unreadable.

“Step away from the child,” said the silver-haired one. His voice was mild, almost bored—but deadly beneath.

Orochimaru turned slowly, lifting his hands like a surgeon before an operation. “I’m just a doctor. Checking vitals.”

Sai’s voice was cold. “Vitals don’t require a syringe in your pocket.”

A pause.

Then Orochimaru smiled.

“So the hounds are finally off the leash.”

He dropped the act. His fingers moved like a blur—going for the knife in his sleeve—but Kakashi was faster. A knife flew from his wrist, slicing the weapon from Orochimaru’s grip.

Sai tackled him the next second, slamming him into the counter. Bottles shattered. The baby began to cry.

Orochimaru hissed, twisting like a snake, almost slipping free—until Kakashi drove his knee into his spine and jammed the syringe filled with a paralytic into his neck.

“You think I’d let you touch Sasuke’s kid?” Kakashi muttered, voice like gravel. "Sasuke is the last child you'll put your hands on."

Orochimaru’s limbs seized. His body went rigid.

Sai leaned in, pressing the comm in his ear. “Target secured. Extraction ready.”

Kakashi looked down at the unconscious predator and shook his head.

“Tell Interpol… this one’s going in a cage.”

---

Uchiha Mansion — East Wing — 7:35 PM
POV: Sasuke

His body was failing him.

A cracked rib screamed every time he breathed. Blood blurred his vision. He stumbled as Itachi’s fist slammed into his jaw, sending him skidding across the marble floor. His sword slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly against the wall.

He tried to stand.

A boot pinned his chest.

“You always lacked control,” Itachi said. His voice wasn’t cruel. It was final. “You fight with rage. I fight with purpose.”

Sasuke clawed at the boot, coughing blood. His fingers trembled.

“I told you… I’d never… become like him.”

“But you did,” Itachi said, kneeling beside him. “You just chose a different ghost to worship.”

He raised the knife.

It caught the firelight.

Sasuke’s vision blurred—then focused.

Not on Itachi.

On the doorway.

Her.

---

POV: Sakura

The moment she saw Sasuke pinned to the ground, her world narrowed to a pinpoint.

Itachi stood over him like death.

Everything slowed.

She fired.

Once. Twice.

Itachi twisted, fast as ever—one bullet grazed his shoulder, the other slammed into the wall. He ducked behind a pillar, vanishing into shadow.

“Go back,” Sasuke coughed. “Sakura—go!”

But she was already moving.

The smoke choked her lungs, but she didn’t stop. The hallway behind her was a graveyard. The east wing was dying. Let it die.

She was done being hunted.

A figure lunged from the shadows—Itachi. Fast, blade raised. She ducked, rolled, and came up firing again.

Click.

Empty.

Itachi grabbed her by the throat, slammed her against the wall. Her vision sparked.

“You were always a distraction,” he whispered in her ear. “A soft spot. A leash.”

Sakura’s fingers scrabbled at her waist. She didn’t find her gun.

She found a scalpel.

She tucked it into her belt before she left the hospital. She was a med student after all.

She rammed it into Itachi’s ribs.

He flinched—but didn’t let go.

“Your child won’t save you.”

“No,” Sakura rasped. “She’ll never have to go through what I did.”

She reached for the second weapon.

A hidden blade inside her boot.

She drove it up under his ribs and twisted.

Itachi gasped—eyes wide.

She stabbed again. And again.

Screaming.

Sobbing.

Bleeding.

She wasn’t just fighting him. She was killing every moment she’d spent powerless. Every night she’d lied beside a man she feared. Every time she’d curled around her child’s crib wondering if she’d live long enough to see her grow.

She drove the blade into his throat.

And silence fell. He fell to his knees. Warmth spilled down his chest.

He looked up at her—eyes full of disbelief. So this is what it feels like... to lose control.

Sasuke stood now, bloodied, barely upright. But his hand was on Sakura’s shoulder. Holding her steady.

Itachi’s lips twitched into a faint smile—almost amused.

Then he collapsed, lifeless.

She dropped the blade.

Her hands shook. Her lungs burned.

Sasuke pulled her into him, burying his face in her hair.

“You saved me,” he whispered.

“No,” she said, voice raw. “I saved myself.”

Chapter 18: Atonement

Summary:

Today is the end of this story. The ending might be abrupt, but I promise you the two epilogues will answer the questions you may have.

Enjoy, and thank you.

 

 

 

Uchiha Mansion 

POV: Sakura

The house was quiet. Too quiet for what had just happened.

She descended the marble steps slowly, Sasuke’s weight heavy against her side. His blood seeped into her blouse, but she didn’t falter. She kept walking, scalpel still clutched in her hand, blood drying in uneven streaks along her wrist.

The men waiting in the living room froze when they saw them.

Suigetsu leaned on his blade, his chest heaving from the last of the fight. Juugo stood like a stone wall, the floor around him littered with broken bodies. Both stared as if the impossible had just walked into the room.

Their boss, alive.
And the woman who killed his brother.

Juugo moved first, crossing the space to gently take Sasuke’s other arm and settle him into the leather chair by the fire. Sakura resisted at first, then let go, stepping back. Her eyes stayed on Sasuke, but her grip on the scalpel didn’t ease.

She realized the silence wasn’t shock anymore. It was reverence.

Sakura Haruno — prisoner, bride, pawn — had slain the king of the Yakuza.

Her knuckles whitened. She felt nothing. No remorse. No rage. Just the echo of the blade in her hand, and the strange, intoxicating weight of survival.

Kimimaro’s shadow lingered at the edge of the room, quiet and watchful. Suigetsu gave him the barest nod, and he returned it. The unspoken truth settled over her. He had been the informant. He had betrayed Itachi, not her.

She should have felt relief. Instead, she felt hollow.

---

 

Konoha — Within the Hour

 

The news spread like wildfire.

Itachi Uchiha was dead.

The mogul. The elder prince of the empire. The king of the Yakuza. The untouchable shadow that had ruled the underworld for decades. Gone. And not by the hand of a rival don or a syndicate coup — but by a woman.

A whisper. A rumor. A truth no one could ignore.

The Sabaku raised their glasses in hidden chambers, Gaara’s smirk sharp as glass. “The empire bleeds. We move tomorrow.”

Menma watched from a corner. This victory meant his freedom. Funny. He did all of this to avenge Shikamaru, to protect Hinata and to save Sakura. She was the one who saved him. He smiled softly. He needed to call Hinata.

The Hyūga estate lit with celebration. Hanabi watched the fireworks from her balcony, eyes cold, calculating. “A dead king leaves an empty throne. We take it before another does.”

Yuri Romanoff downed vodka with his bratva. His laugh was guttural, savage. “The Uchiha crumble. And a girl did what men could not. I’ll drink to that.”

Every faction buzzed, every street sang. But in the echoes of triumph came the fear. If Itachi could fall, anyone could.

---

Uchiha Mansion — Later

POV: Sasuke

Pain anchored him, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his chest.

He sat in the chair, bruised, bloodied, but alive. His men kept their distance, guarding, watching. But his eyes were only on her.

Sakura stood near the window, her silhouette framed by the firelight. The scalpel was still in her hand, though the blood had dried. She hadn’t let it go.

“You killed him,” Sasuke said, voice low.

Her green eyes turned toward him. There was no softness in them. No fear.

“I killed him,” she repeated.

“You saved me,” he tried again.

Her green eyes said nothing, her voice flat. “I saved myself. And our daughter.”

The words hit him harder than any blade.

For the first time in years, he felt something other than vengeance. He felt… unmoored.

He reached for her. Slowly. Carefully. She hesitated, then crossed the room, placing the bloodied scalpel on the table before she let him take her hand.

They didn’t speak again. There was nothing left to say.

The world outside roared with celebration and fear. The throne was vulnerable. The factions were circling.

But in that moment — just for that moment — Sasuke, Sakura, and their daughter were safe.

Sasuke’s lips curved into the faintest smile, worn and weary but real. His fingers brushed against hers with a tenderness that seemed almost foreign in his bloodstained hands.
“My brave wife. My tsuma,” he murmured, voice rough, as if the words themselves weighed something. A low chuckle escaped him, edged with both exhaustion and awe. “I always knew you were going to rock my world.”

Sakura's POV: 

Sakura let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her lips twitched, almost involuntarily, into a smile. The irony didn’t escape her.

The men who had hurt her the most… were now the ones keeping her standing. Juugo, silent and steady. Suigetsu, ever watchful. Kimimaro, whose betrayal of Itachi had been her unlikely salvation. And Sasuke—Sasuke most of all. The man who had chained her, claimed her, scarred her… was also the man who shielded her from his brother’s cruelty.

She could have left him. She should have left him. There had been countless chances to walk away, to let the curse of the Uchiha name swallow him whole. To abandon him to his fate. But she hadn’t. Even now, after the blood, after the fire, after the endless games of power and survival, she couldn’t.

Why?

Her throat tightened. The answer hovered, elusive and heavy.

Was it love? She didn’t think she knew what love even was anymore. Not the pure kind, not the kind she had dreamed of when she was younger. What she felt for Sasuke was different—darker, tangled, complicated. Maybe it was affection twisted by circumstance. Maybe it was the strange intimacy born from shared trauma.

Or maybe it was simply survival. Stockholm syndrome.

She swallowed hard, staring at his bruised face, the shadowed violet beneath his eyes, the curve of his lips as he looked at her like she was something more than human, something divine.

But no matter what name she gave it, the truth was undeniable.

Sasuke had kept her safe—brutally, selfishly, but safe. And tonight, she had saved him.

Her hand lingered in his, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.

What did that mean for them?

Soon, the faint wail of sirens carried through the shattered windows, growing louder, closer. Their fragile bubble of peace dissolved, replaced once more by reality’s iron grip.

Sakura’s head snapped toward Sasuke, her pulse quickening. She knew what came next—police, reporters, chaos, investigations. If they didn’t act fast, this victory could just as easily become their downfall.

She gripped his hand tighter, her voice low but sharp with urgency.
“We have to come up with something. Juugo—call his lawyer. Now.”

Sasuke’s lips curved into another tired smile, and this time he let out a low, rasping laugh. His gaze flickered to her—blood still streaked her fingers, her hair falling loose around her face, her green eyes blazing with determination.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dark amusement in his voice. “You’re more Yakuza than me now.”

The sirens grew louder, their echo rattling through the broken windows like a countdown.

Juugo didn’t move. He didn’t even reach for his phone. Instead, his eyes flickered toward the door. And in that stillness came the sound of heavy boots, synchronized, controlled.

Interpol.

The walls seemed to close in around them. Sakura’s stomach dropped as the first shadow appeared at the top of the staircase.

But Sasuke… Sasuke only smiled.

 

FLASHBACK

The night before the confrontation, Sasuke had been waiting in the dim silence of an empty warehouse. A figure emerged from the shadows—tall, wearing that same aloof air that suffocated him.

Kakashi Hatake.

“...You called me,” Kakashi said, his voice rough with disbelief. “To turn yourself in?”

Sasuke’s eyes were steady, colder than steel yet strangely calm. “I’ve done enough damage. To others. To her.” His gaze drifted down, as if seeing Sakura’s face in his mind. “I don’t deserve freedom. Not after everything.”

Kakashi studied him for a long moment, his single visible eye softening. “And what about your men? Her?”

“I’m not asking for mercy,” Sasuke replied. “Just one thing. Protect them. Protect her and my daughter. Take them far from this world, from the blood and the shadow of the Uchiha name.”

Kakashi exhaled slowly, torn between duty and something far more personal. He finally nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” A pause. Then quietly, “I don’t know for certain if you’re my son or not… but if you are—” his voice faltered, then steadied, “—I’m proud of you. And I’m sorry. Sorry for leaving you with Fugaku and Itachi. You deserved better.”

For the first time in years, Sasuke allowed himself to breathe. A single tear fell from his eye, "That's enough."

 

PRESENT

Now, in the bloodstained living room, with Sakura holding him upright, Sasuke turned to Juugo and Suigetsu. His voice was calm, commanding, final.
“Make sure she’s taken care of. Call the lawyer. He knows what to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Sakura’s voice broke, her grip on him tightening. Her heart raced, her mind refusing to piece it together.

But Sasuke only leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss so soft it hurt more than any wound he’d ever suffered. When he pulled back, his words were a whisper, meant only for her.
“I’m sorry. I wish I had met you in another life—one where I wasn’t this fucked up. I know we would’ve been happy.”

Her breath hitched, tears burning her eyes. “Sasuke—”

“Take care of Sarada.”

She froze. The name hit her like a blade. Sarada. The name she had scribbled in her notebook, hidden from everyone. The name she had chosen in secret for their daughter. He… he had read it. He knew.

Tears fell freely now, trembling down her cheeks. “No… no, please, don’t do this—”

But already, the doors crashed open. Boots stormed in, SAT officers and Interpol flooding the space with rifles drawn, red laser sights cutting through the dim.

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS! HANDS ON THE GROUND!”

Suigetsu and Juugo complied instantly, kneeling with their palms open. Kimimaro followed suit, along with the other men.

But Sasuke didn’t move.

And Sakura refused to let go.

“Hold your fire!” Kakashi barked, his face appearing in the doorway, Sai at his side. “He’ll cooperate!”

The chaos rang around them, officers shouting, weapons clattering, men hitting the floor. But for Sakura, the world had narrowed down to one thing—her hands clutching him desperately, refusing to surrender him to the abyss.

“Please…” her voice cracked, raw. “Don’t...”

Sasuke’s lips brushed against her ear, his voice steady despite everything.
“You’re free now. Don’t waste it.”

Her body trembled violently against his, as if sheer force of will could anchor him to her side. The room pulsed with chaos—commands barked in clipped Japanese, the metallic click of safeties being released, the shuffle of boots on bloodstained tiles—but all Sakura could hear was her own heartbeat crashing in her ears.

“No!” she cried, clutching tighter, burying her face against his chest. “You can’t do this, Sasuke! Don’t leave me like this, please—”

His arms came around her, steady, warm, protective even now. He kissed the crown of her head once, twice, lingering as though memorizing the scent of her hair. Then he gently pried her fingers loose.

She fought him. God, she fought with everything she had. But he was stronger, and he was determined.

Interpol agents surged forward. Kakashi raised a hand sharply. “Wait. Let him.”

Sai moved closer, eyes unreadable, though a flicker of something human broke through his usual mask.

Sasuke slid away from Sakura, his hands raised. The red and blue strobe lights flashing through the shattered windows cut across his pale face, painting him in fleeting moments of crimson and sapphire.

Two officers seized his arms. The sound of cold steel clicked shut around his wrists. Cuffs.

“Don’t—” Sakura’s scream ripped out of her throat, raw and broken, as she lunged forward. Juugo caught her, wrapping his arms around her middle, restraining her with surprising gentleness but unbreakable strength. She thrashed, kicked, her nails clawing against his forearm.

“Sasuke!” Her voice cracked under the weight of her grief. “You promised me—you promised!”

He turned his head back just once as they dragged him toward the door. His dark eyes found hers through the blur of tears. And in that fleeting second, he smiled. Not the cruel smirk she once hated, but soft. Tender. A smile that belonged to the boy he could have been.

“Sarada,” he mouthed silently, his lips shaping the name like a vow.

Her knees gave out, and Juugo lowered her to the floor, holding her as she sobbed. The baby stirred faintly in the hospital crib, safe, untouched. The tiny cry echoed like a ghost in the NICU.

The last thing she saw before the door slammed shut was Kakashi’s hand resting briefly on Sasuke’s shoulder, like a father guiding a son. Then they were gone, swallowed by sirens and flashing lights.

And for the first time, Sakura cried... for him.

---

The arrivals gate buzzed with the usual noise of travelers dragging luggage, children crying, voices echoing through intercoms. But for Hinata, it all blurred into static. Her eyes were fixed on the sliding doors that separated her from the man she thought she had lost forever.

Her hands twisted nervously around the strap of her purse. She had been recoering nicely and no longer needed the cane to walk.

Then — he appeared.

Naruto. Menma. Whatever name he had worn, whatever mask he had used to survive the underworld — it didn’t matter. It was him. His black hair was a little longer now, his jaw sharper, his body carrying the quiet strength of a man who had seen too much. His ocean eyes searched the crowd with a hunger, almost desperate—until they landed on her.

Hinata froze, her breath catching.

And then she ran.

Her feet moving on their own as she pushed past strangers, her chest burning with the need to close the distance. Naruto dropped his bag and opened his arms wide, bracing himself just as she crashed into him.

“Hinata…” His voice cracked, her name spilling out like a prayer he had whispered to himself a thousand times in the dark.

Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers trembling as if she feared he might vanish again if she let go. “Okaeri, Naruto-kun.” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I buried you, Naruto. I mourned you.”

His arms crushed her tighter, his face buried in her hair. “I’m sorry. Every single day, every damn moment, I wanted to come back to you.”

She pulled back just enough to see his face, her tears streaking freely. Her palm cupped his cheek, as if to convince herself this wasn’t another cruel dream. “You came back to me.”

Naruto nodded, his eyes wet, his grin trembling. “Tadaima.”

And then their lips met — a kiss heavy with a year of grief, longing, and finally, release. Around them, people glanced curiously, but the world might as well have disappeared.

---

 

Two years later.

 

The soft hum of an old clock filled the quiet office. Bookshelves lined the walls, heavy with psychology texts and case files, the faint scent of coffee and ink lingering in the air.

“You’ve been coming here for almost six months now. You’ve made progress, but…” The psychologist’s pen tapped against their notepad. “There’s still a heaviness in you. Something unspoken.”

The patient sat in the chair across from them, posture straight, almost defiant, but her hands trembled slightly in her lap. Her gaze lingered on the window, where the faint sounds of city life bled through the glass.

“I don’t know where to start,” she admitted quietly.

“Anywhere,” the psychologist encouraged gently. “This is your space. No judgments. Just truth.”

A long pause. She let out a shaky breath, a small laugh escaping her lips — bitter, humorless.

“I suppose… people expect me to say I’m better now. That everything has healed. That time has given me peace.” Her voice cracked, low but steady enough to carry the weight of memory. “But the truth? I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. Too much blood. Too much betrayal. Too many ghosts in my head.”

The pen scratched across the page, but the psychologist didn’t interrupt.

She finally turned her head, her expression distant, eyes reflecting a story too heavy for one person to carry. “Do you want to know who I am?”

The psychologist nodded.

Her lips curled into a tired, broken smile. “My name is Sakura Haruno… and if you are expecting a happy story—” her voice hardened, steel beneath the softness, “—I’m afraid you will be very disappointed in what I have to tell you.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading until now. Thank you for your patience, and thank u for the comments. This story has been challenging for me. I wanted to write a story about suffering, punishment, and redemption, but I didn't want to make it seem as if I was romanticizing SA. I wanted to add depth and proper character growth and make it as realistic as possible. Maybe I failed on that, or maybe it was acceptable. I am no professional writer, but I do like to write, to put some of my emotions in stories. I hope, at the very least, it entertained you.

Thank you again. Love yall.

Chapter 19: Epilogue I

Notes:

Epilogue number 1, explaining the aftermath more clearly. Flashback in cursive.

Enjoy!

The 'tik-tok' sound from the clock on the wall was the only sound that resonated in the room. Sakura's emerald eyes were distant for a moment. Shizune, her therapist, leaned forward, hands folded, listening intently. “You said earlier that people expect a happy ending. But endings are rarely that simple. Why don’t you tell me what happened after… everything?”

Sakura’s eyes flickered, heavy with memory. Her voice softened. “Two years ago, when the dust settled, when the Hyūgas and the Sabaku buried their dead and brokered their peace… I was left with the aftermath. With his aftermath.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve as the memories pulled her under. 

---

 

The news had been a storm. Sasuke’s arrest. Itachi’s death. The fall of the Uchiha empire. They didn’t show my face, of course — witness protection doesn’t allow that. But they talked about me anyway. The third party. The woman in the shadows. The whisper behind Itachi’s murder. 

Japan was on fire. Syndicates clawing for power. Politicians, scrambling to bury their secrets. The media wouldn’t let go of the Uchiha name. The fallen princes. The prodigies turned monsters. Their faces plastered across screens, the arrests, the betrayals, the endless reels of footage.

Sasuke in handcuffs.

Itachi, shaking hands with men who were supposed to represent justice.
Madness.

And me? I couldn’t hear any of it. I couldn’t feel any of it. I was numb.

Suigetsu and Jūugo stayed by my side while the media vultured me. Ino too — she never left me, not really. She was an oasis in a desert I thought would never end. They became my shield when everyone wanted a piece of Sasuke Uchiha’s wife.

Sarada survived. She recovered faster than anyone expected. The doctors called her strong. I believed them. I smiled for the first time in weeks when I heard that. My miracle child. My only anchor.

Interpol moved me into a safe house, hidden from the cameras, hidden from the mob that wanted blood or answers — sometimes both. Suigetsu and Jūgo became my guards, my shadows. My parents called constantly. My mother, hysterical. My father, furious. They had believed Sasuke was a good man. Before, I would’ve taken comfort in them knowing the truth. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Was Sasuke a good man? A bad man? Just a man?... A broken one? 

Days later, Sasuke’s lawyer came to see me.
A suitcase in his hand. Pale, tight-lipped, dark suit. He sat in my living room, and without a word, slid papers across the table.

My name was there. Sarada’s too.

Everything Uchiha left behind — the properties, the accounts, the empire’s skeleton. Sasuke had left me and our baby everything.

It should have felt like shackles. Instead, it burned in my chest. Grief tangled with something I could barely admit to myself: tenderness. An ache that refused to die. He had thought of me. Of her. Of us.

Jūugo, Suigetsu, and Ino stood as my witnesses. Silent. Heavy.

Then the lawyer’s voice broke the stillness. Sasuke’s words, carried through another man’s mouth:

“Burn it. Use it. Fix it. It’s yours.”

I broke. The tears I thought were gone returned like a flood. Ino hugged me, while I hugged Sarada. In a way... Sasuke was still taking care of me, even if I hated him for what he did to me. 

Kakashi had handled the rest. Interpol had tied a neat bow over the mess, but Sakura knew better — power didn’t vanish, it only shifted. He was the one who arranged for her new identity, for the papers, the relocation, the safety net of anonymity. Witness protection.

“The Maldives,” Kakashi had said, leaning against his desk. “You’ll hate it at first. Too quiet. Too far from… everything. But it’s safety. For you, for your daughter. And for your parents, too.”

I look at the documents he had given me. My new name was Yuki Higarawa, and Sarada was Sarada Higarawa. Luckily, she could keep her name since only a few people knew her by it. Safety was a luxury I couldn’t spit on. Not with Sarada in my arms.

At Shikamaru’s grave, I met Naruto. The wind whipped through the cemetery, carrying the scent of damp earth and incense. We stood in silence for a long time.

“You should hate me,” Naruto said, his voice raw. “I dragged you into this war. I let you carry too much.”

Sakura shook her head, eyes fixed on the carved stone in front of her. “I don’t hate you. I don’t even hate him.” A pause. “I don’t know what I feel anymore. Anger, love, disgust, longing… It’s all the same now. Just… fragments.”

Naruto’s hand brushed hers briefly. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

I looked at him and nodded. He hugged me tightly, almost as if he wanted to confirm I was there with him. I hugged him just as hard. After that, we talked a bit more. He had his own set of problems. He faked his death after all and had committed crimes to infiltrate the Yakuza, but at the end, he did uncover many things about who and what was moving under the shadows of Japan's government. Gaara was never mentioned, only the Uchiha. That was their deal.

Hinata was the happiest. Her husband was back with her, and they were starting to rebuild their relationship. They were even planning another wedding to renew their vows. I was happy for them.

My last night in Konoha was spent with Ino. Two bottles of wine, laughter mixed with tears, promises that we didn’t know if we could keep.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me with all the hot gossip,” Ino teased, mascara smudged from crying.

“You’ll manage,” I said, hugging her tightly. “You always do.”

Ino shook her head fiercely. “This isn’t goodbye. Don’t you dare say goodbye to me, Forehead. It’s just see you later.”

I clung to her like the sister I never had. “How about 'see you later?'”

At the airport, dawn spilled red across the horizon, staining the glass and steel in firelight. Gaara was already there, waiting. His presence was like the desert itself: calm, merciless, eternal.

“You know what you are, don’t you?” His voice was low, even, yet it carried. “You destroyed the Uchiha empire. Whether you wanted to or not, you pulled it down with your own hands.”

I met his aqua-green gaze, her daughter sleeping warm and heavy against her shoulder. She surprised herself with the steadiness in her reply.
“A destroyer doesn’t weep for her victims. A destroyer doesn’t feel… this.”

Gaara tilted his head, studying her as if she were something sacred and unreachable. Then, with a gentleness that unsettled her, he brushed his fingertips against her cheek. The contact was brief, almost reverent.
“Then let me write to you,” he murmured. “Even if you never answer.”

She froze, her chest tightening—not with temptation, but with the weight of everything she was leaving behind. Gaara’s lips curved, the faintest smile breaking through his usual reserve.
“Love can destroy as well.”

The words lingered, heavy and undeniable, as the boarding call echoed through the terminal.

Sakura turned without answering. She held her daughter close and walked onto the plane, leaving Gaara—and the shadows of the underworld—behind. But she would come back. There was someone... she couldn't say goodbye to.

Maybe, on a different day, on a different occasion, under a different sky... She would see him again. 

---

 

The light shifted. The airport bled away, and I was back in the office, the walls sterile and safe, the faint hum of the therapist’s clock filling the silence.

Her voice was steady, professional. “And who is it, Sakura? Who couldn’t you say goodbye to?”

I looked at her deeply, feeling the smile tug at my lips, fragile, secretive.

I didn’t answer.

Chapter 20: Epilogue II

Summary:

Sasuke's aftermath POV

Notes:

Thank you for reading one last time and enjoy.

CIRO*: Basically is the Japanese version of CIA.

Flashback in cursive

 

 

Sasuke's POV, 2 years ago.

Sirens wailed in the distance, not for me, but they might as well have been. By the time the Interpol task force broke through the door, I was already standing. Sakura was still clinging to me. Now ain't this a sight. I was the one who trapped her, held on to her, and now... she was the one who didn't want to let me go. I had to pry her away from me, so they could put on the cuffs.

The agents swarmed like ants, their weapons raised, voices cutting sharp through the silence. On the ground. Hands behind your head. Don’t move.

I didn’t fight. Not this time.

I obeyed. The marble was freezing beneath my knees as they pressed me down, metal cuffs clamping around my wrists with a finality that was almost… merciful.

I heard the echo of my own name on their radios. Uchiha Sasuke. Apprehended.
It sounded like an obituary.

And yet—there was no panic. Only a strange clarity, a stillness. I had lived half my life breaking, hurting, killing, stealing, and the other half hating and filled with rage towards everything and everyone. In the end, both roads had led here, to chains and cold light.

I thought of Sakura. Of our daughter, her breath shallow in a hospital bed, fighting against death with fists too small for this world. They would never understand what she meant, what they both meant—why I made the choices I made.

I had destroyed everything. But perhaps… perhaps not them.

They shoved me on the back seat of a black SUV, while I looked towards the mansion one last time. All of this was built by my ancestors, by people who build an empire with blood and fear. I used to be proud of that, I used to think that everything we had gained was worth it. But now, looking back, all I saw was a tomb, a cold monument to the sins of the past. But at least I did one thing right. Sakura... Sarada, they wuld be alright. I smiled softly to that thought. It was over. I was free. 

The ride was long, filled with the low murmur of radios and the metallic scent of guns. My wrists were burning against the cuffs, but I didn’t complain. I stared at my reflection in the window — pale skin, hollow eyes, a face both infamous and empty. The man staring back was not a leader, not a son, not even a brother anymore. Just another prisoner.

In custody, time dissolved. They locked me in a gray room under too-bright lights, two-way mirrors swallowing my silence. The questions came in waves — about the syndicates, about the politicians, about Sakura. About Itachi.

I didn’t answer.

Every time they pushed, every time they threatened, I let the words rot on my tongue. What could I tell them? That the Uchiha name was already ash? That the empire had already eaten itself alive? That I had destroyed the one man I loved and hated most?

Silence was my confession.

When they dragged me back to my cell, I welcomed the dark. The iron door slammed shut, echoing through the hollow space, but for the first time in years, my mind wasn’t screaming.

I had given them everything that mattered — Sakura, Sarada, a future without me. Whatever happened now, prison, death, oblivion… it was mine to bear.

And maybe that was what redemption truly was — not light, not forgiveness, but carrying the weight alone.

They threw me into a holding cell like an animal, cameras flashing even inside the station. My cuffs cut into my wrists, but I kept my head high. I knew what I looked like to them—the last Uchiha prince, dragged through the mud. A legacy undone.

The news broke within minutes. They said Japan was trembling. “Business mogul arrested.” “Philanthropist unmasked.” “The Uchiha syndicate dismantled.”
Screens everywhere. My name, my face. Old photographs—me at charity galas, shaking hands with prime ministers. Itachi with presidents. The fall was complete, and the vultures were feasting.

Court was worse. The room stank of perfume and sweat, reporters stuffed shoulder to shoulder, politicians hiding behind sunglasses, pretending they’d never known me. Every time the judge’s gavel struck, it echoed like a funeral bell.

They showed photos: bodies in ditches, ledgers of payments, intercepted messages, guns and cash seized from our warehouses. They named me head of a criminal empire. They named me murderer. They named me monster.

But I didn’t fight it. Not once.

I sat there, silent, hands folded on the table. My lawyer whispered strategies, bargains, denials. I ignored him. What would be the point? The empire was already a corpse. I wouldn’t let them desecrate it further with excuses.

And yet… amid the frenzy, amid the chaos, I felt something like peace. They could strip the Uchiha name down to bones, smear my blood across every headline—but Sakura and Sarada were beyond their reach. I had seen to that.

When the jury filed back into the room, the whispers swelled. “Life sentence,” they said. “Maximum security.” Cameras flashed. My chains rattled as I stood. I kept my eyes forward.

I wasn’t falling. I was letting go.

That night, in the prison cell they threw me into after sentencing, I dreamt of him.

Itachi.

He stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed, half-smile carved into his face like he had never left. The same expression he wore when he used to correct my stance in training. When he told me lies to keep me obedient. When he told me half-truths to keep me blind.

“Little brother,” his voice echoed, smooth, steady. Always steady.

I wanted to curse him. To spit. To scream that everything—everything—was his fault. That he left me with ruins, shadows, whispers of a mother’s blood on the floor. That his choices had driven me into this labyrinth of loyalty and hate until there was no way out but fire.

But I couldn’t speak. My throat locked. My chest burned.

He walked closer, slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. “You’ve finally done it,” he said. “You buried us. And for what? She's not even here. She left you and your child will never meet you.”

The words lodged in me like a blade between the ribs.

I tried to stand, but my legs buckled beneath me. “No,” I rasped. “She—she knows. She understands—”

“Does she?” Itachi tilted his head, the faintest shadow of a smile twisting his mouth. “You call it love, but look around you. Chains. Concrete. Silence. Do you feel her here?”

I pressed my palms against my ears, desperate to block him out, but his voice only grew louder, reverberating inside my skull.

“You were never a husband. Never a father. Only an Uchiha. That’s all you ever knew how to be. And now you’ve left your daughter the same curse—blood soaked with shame, a name that drags her down before she can even walk.”

I sank to the floor, shaking. Sarada’s face flickered in my mind—her small hands, her fragile breath when she was first born. The only pure thing I had ever touched.

“Stop,” I begged, my throat raw. “Don’t—don’t bring her into this.”

Itachi crouched before me now, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and cruelty. “You think you gave her freedom. But all you did was trade your prison for hers.”

I felt something crack inside me. A scream tore loose, but it sounded foreign, like an animal's. The guards outside banged on the bars, shouting at me to shut up. I pressed my forehead to the cold stone floor, sobbing, shaking, the echo of Itachi’s words ringing long after he disappeared.

In that moment, I didn’t know which was worse—being haunted by my brother, or knowing he was right.

The days bled into one another. Silence, shadows, and the gnawing echo of my brother’s voice. No one came. No letters. No visits. Just the guards who looked at me like an animal caged for sport.

So when the door clanged open one morning, I didn’t lift my head.

The click of heels against the concrete made me finally look up.

She stood there, immaculate, sharp brown-eyed, every line of her suit speaking of power and control. Tsunade Senju. Director of CIRO.

“Well,” she said, her voice edged with derision, “how the mighty have fallen. The last Uchiha heir, rotting away like the rest of the trash he once commanded. No money. No army. No power. Just another number in a cell.”

I didn’t respond. Silence was the only weapon I had left.

Tsunade’s smile was humorless, almost bored. “You think staying quiet makes you strong? It doesn’t. It makes you irrelevant.” She stepped closer, letting her gaze rake over me. “But lucky for you, I don’t throw away tools just because they’re dirty.”

My eyes flickered up, narrowing.

She leaned against the table between us. “I’m offering you a way out. Work for us. A man who technically doesn’t exist. A ghost we can point at whoever we want erased. A weapon. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“No.” My voice was hoarse but steady.

Tsunade arched a brow. “So noble. So predictable.” Her tone shifted, mocking. “Tell me, was it really love that made you weak? Or just that tight pussy the Haruno girl has? Perhaps I should extend this offer to Sakura instead. She’s the one who managed to tame the infamous Sasuke Uchiha, after all.”

The words ripped through me. I slammed my fist against the table, the metal rattling violently. “Leave her out of this.”

Tsunade didn’t flinch. Her gaze was cold, clinical. “Relax. I have no interest in Sakura. Or your daughter. They’re civilians now, irrelevant to me.” She folded her arms. “I want you. Because for all your sins, you were clever enough to survive longer than most. You slipped justice for years, erased trails no one else could. That skill is valuable.”

I clenched my fists, saying nothing.

Her eyes sharpened, like a predator scenting blood. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking this is about redemption. I don’t care about your conscience, or whatever bullshit that put you in this cage. What I’m offering is simple: a chance. To not rot here. To see your wife and daughter again… even from the shadows.”

From her coat pocket, she pulled a photograph and slid it across the table.

My breath caught.

Sakura—her hair cut short, black now—pushed a stroller through a crowded market. Sarada sat inside, bundled against the sun. Sakura’s head was turned, unaware someone had captured the moment. She looked… free.

My hands trembled as I touched the photo, the edges already creasing under my grip.

Tsunade stood. “Think about it.”

Her heels echoed as she walked away, leaving the photo on the table. The door slammed shut, and I was alone again.

Alone with my ghosts. Alone with the picture. Alone with a choice.

---

 

Current time. The Maldives.

The air was warm, salted with the sea breeze. The sound of laughter carried across the beach, children chasing each other, adults gathered beneath umbrellas and around tables overflowing with food.

Sarada’s birthday. Four years old.

The estate sat perched on the hill above, a modern glass mansion with sprawling terraces and a pool that glistened like a second ocean. A paradise built on the ashes of another life, sustained by money Sakura never asked for, but couldn’t refuse.

She moved through the crowd gracefully, a hostess and a mother all at once — greeting guests, pouring drinks, making sure her daughter’s day was perfect. Ino was there, her laugh cutting above the chatter. Kakashi too, lounging with a drink in hand, his watchful eye never truly at rest. Naruto and Hinata sat together, their baby boy Boruto toddling after Sarada with clumsy steps. Hinata’s hand rested on her stomach, already round with another child on the way. Even Sakura’s parents had come, along with neighbors she’d befriended since making this island their home.

It was beautiful. It was safe. It was everything she had wanted.

And yet, as she watched Sarada blow out her candles and giggle with her friends, a faint ache tugged at Sakura’s chest.

He wasn’t here. He never would be. Sasuke would never see the way Sarada’s eyes lit up at the sight of balloons, or how she squealed when Boruto handed her a seashell as if it were treasure. He would never be there for birthdays, graduations… weddings.

Sakura closed her eyes, pushing the thought away. Today was not for ghosts. Today was for her daughter. She plastered on a smile and rejoined the laughter, clapping as Sarada unwrapped another gift.

After a while, the children drifted toward the shore. Sarada, always curious, wandered a little further from the group, drawn by something glimmering in the sand. She crouched down, lifting a seashell, holding it up to the sunlight with fascination.

That was when a shadow fell over her.

She turned, blinking against the sun, then broke into a wide smile.

Up on the terrace, Sakura glanced toward the shoreline to check on her. Her heart stuttered.

Her drink slipped from her hand.

A gasp caught in her throat.

The man stood there-his beautiful features obvious to her, dark against the gold of the setting sun, watching Sarada with eyes that showed longing and love.

He crouched down, his voice low, steady, achingly familiar.

 

 

“Tadaima, Sarada.”

 

 

Fin.

Notes:

And it's officially over. This was the ending I had planned all along and I'm satisfied, happy. Thank you for reading. Thank you for staying. I hope to read you guys again, in other story. :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of BEG!