Vertigo

Chapter Ten: Drowning is Like This

The port city of Fuzen was a veritable holy land for the wicked. A haven of organized crime, and a bankable refuge for rogue shinobi looking to disappear or find and endless source of jobs. The surrounding territory was ungoverned, and therefore had no official law enforcement. In Fuzen, the crime lords and shipping magnates –usually one in the same – were the law, and the shinobi they employed to do their dirty work could, and did, get away with just about anything. Consequently, this crowded little trading port was known to have the highest crime rate in the known lands.

The name alone told of the city’s nature. “Vice”…a city of sin, where anything and everything could be had with the right influence or for the right price, from information, to common illegal pleasures, to more…exotic indulgences.

And so based on that knowledge, and on the plethora of very interesting things they’d seen as they made their way through the bustling town, it wasn’t much of a surprise to Sakura when the location specified in the letter turned out to be an opium den, with a brothel upstairs. The burly, unfriendly-looking man at the door took one look at their cloaks and led them inside. He informed them he would go retrieve their host, and then left them standing in the middle of a scene of decadence and utter debauchery.

Sakura had been in her fair share of shady establishments and this wasn’t the first time she’d been inside a place like this, but she’d never seen one so lavish. The main floor was a luxuriously furnished lounge area with several richly upholstered settees and floor cushions centered around low tables littered with various drug paraphernalia. A long bar stretched across the back of the room, supplied with every type of liquor known to man, by the look of it. Exotic floor rugs, silk screens and ornate lampions added to the atmosphere of sheer opulence. Scantily clad girls moved through the room with serving trays bearing drinks and much more illicit items, patrons lounged about in various states of intoxication, and more girls could be seen dancing around the room and on raised platforms in the corners, some of which wore nothing but flashy jewelry and a scrap of thong panty. The entire place reeked of heady incense and mixtures of smoke.

This wasn’t your typical whorehouse slash opium den. This was a place only the wealthy could afford to patronize, and the customers lounging about were indeed very well dressed. The girls were of the highest sort, for hookers anyway. They were all rather beautiful and well formed, at least from a distance and under the dim lighting, though their hair and makeup were overdone. What little clothing they wore was made of expensive material, and it was clear they were well kept and high-priced.

Sakura cast a glance at her partner. Deidara seemed rather unimpressed with their surroundings, as if he’d seen it all before. It occurred to her that he’d probably seen much worse, having been a wanted criminal longer than she had even been a ninja.

A woman came up to them at one point and asked if they needed to be “taken care of”. She wore a short satin robe that was belted loosely and clearly showed she wore nothing underneath, and she smelled like she was wearing more perfume this minute than Sakura had worn in her entire life. Deidara ignored her completely, but Sakura glared and turned her away by stating they were there on business.

A minute or two later their host arrived, entering from a darkened hallway with another burly guard. Yakushiji Saito was a man of medium stature, with a face that was neither handsome nor ugly. His dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, his suit was expensively tailored, and he was adorned with several pieces of fine jewelry on his neck, fingers, and even his ears. Everything about him said “high class slimeball”.

“Welcome, welcome!” he said cheerfully, arms held wide in greeting as he approached them. “I’m honored you accepted my invitation. I am Yakushiji Saito, owner of this and many other fine establishments here in Fuzen.” He held his hand out to Deidara.

“Deidara.” His eyes flicked down to the man’s outstretched hand. “I don’t shake hands,” he said flatly.

The other man withdrew his hand somewhat awkwardly, but rather than turn it to Sakura next, he dropped it to his side. Jade eyes narrowed. This guy owned a brothel; of course he would be a chauvinist. She cleared her throat a sharply and held her hand out with a falsely sweet smile. “I’m Sakura.”

Yakushiji blinked, and then smiled widely, as if just realizing that yes, she too was wearing an Akatsuki cloak and was one of his guests. He reached out and shook her hand, and Sakura squeezed much harder than necessary, her smirk widening as his knuckles cracked and he winced. That should teach him not to brush her off.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” he said smoothly, withdrawing his hand just a little too quickly to be casual. “Let me show you to somewhere more private in order to discuss business.”

He led them to the back of the establishment, into a room that looked more like a VIP room than an office, with leather sofas and more opulent décor. Another guard was stationed outside the door, and the one with Yakushiji followed them in and stood off to the side. There was “entertainment” in here too; two topless women dancing together around a pole in front of where they were seated. By the look of it, both of them were so out of their minds on whatever drug they’d been pumped full of that they wouldn’t pay any attention to what the three of them said anyway.

“This is your office?” Sakura said skeptically, and with some disdain, as she tried to angle herself on the sofa so that the girls weren’t in eye view.

“This is where I do business with my most important clients, and I do hope that we can come to an arrangement that will be mutually beneficial,” their host replied, and his wide smile did nothing to hide the ambition in his eyes.

“Of course you do,” Deidara scoffed dryly.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sakura saw the two women on the platform start to make out with each other as they danced. Whether they were doing it because they wanted to or for entertainment value wasn’t clear, but she glared in revulsion when they started to feel each other up and turned back to their host indignantly.

Yakushiji seemed to take no notice of it, but it pleased her to note that Deidara looked at the women the same way he’d looked at the doped-up patrons in the main lounge; with noticeable distaste. In fact, he rolled his eyes when he saw what they were doing. Sakura smirked faintly. Apparently girls like that weren’t his type. She didn’t want to explore why such a thing mattered to her.

Sakura frowned at their host. “Yakushiji –”

“Please, call me Saito,” he interjected with another sleazy smile.

“Saito. Is this –” she gestured at the intoxicated women, “– really necessary?”

He looked up at the platform, comprehension dawning on his features. Then he grinned. “Ah. Yes, my lovely ladies can be somewhat distracting.”

“They’re annoying,” Deidara corrected, his tone wiping the smile from the other man’s face, “We’re not your clients and we’re not here to be entertained by you. We’re here to determine whether or not to let you keep running your own operation instead of taking it from you like we’ve already started taking from the other syndicates in this city. So maybe you should drop the small talk and tell us why we should, yeah.”

Sobering, he snapped his fingers at the girls, who stopped their performance and looked at him hazily, then clambered down from the platform and exited the room. “My apologies,” he said, reclining back against the sofa and folding his hands in his lap. He then proceeded to tell them of his criminal empire, of all of his businesses and their profits. It seemed he dabbled in a little of everything that this city had to offer, and held quite a lot of influence among his peers. Of course he could be exaggerating, but that’s what they were there to find out.

“Alright,” Sakura said when he’d finished, “Over the next several weeks we will be assessing all of your holdings and enterprises here in the city. Also, we expect to see some documentation from you; proof that you’re as successful as you say you are. We’re not here to make deals with small time crooks, so you need to show us that you’re worth taking interest in. And when we have meetings, for any reason, it will be in your actual office from now on. No more of this nonsense.” She waved a hand at the room.

“Of course. Sakura, wasn’t it?” His dark eyes glinted as he smiled widely. “Such a fitting name, and what an exquisite beauty, I might add. So exotic. Is that your natural hair?”

Sakura glared, jade eyes narrowing in a way anyone who knew her would be very wary of.

Saito didn’t seem to notice. “A woman like you could have whatever she wants. How is it that you ended up a ninja, of all things?”

“Because it’s what I wanted to be,” she said tersely, “Now if you have nothing else of business relevance to discuss with us…we’ve been travelling all day.”

He got the hint, and nodded. “Of course, of course. Arrangements have already been made for your stay.” He stood, and they did as well. “Neither of you seem the type that enjoys chasing the dragon… but as my important guests, please help yourself to anything else I can provide, either here or at any of my clubs or casinos; food, liquor, girls…” he winked at Sakura, “for you as well, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

He received no answer, only flat stares from both Akatsuki members.

After a slightly strained pause he cleared his throat and continued. “Right. I’ll have my lawyers pull up the paperwork you asked for. In the meantime, please enjoy yourselves. My man will show you to your quarters.” He gestured to the burly guard near the door.

The second floor of the building was the brothel, and as they climbed the stairs Sakura got a peek down the hallway and saw several more half-naked girls lounging outside their doors, illuminated in a reddish glow from the hanging lanterns. Many of the doors were closed, and she thought she could hear some peculiar noises emanating from behind them. She groaned inwardly and ascended the next flight.

The third floor was technically also part of the brothel, their escort explained gruffly, but it was only used for VIPs and “high rollers,” as he put it, and the beds were replaced for each new visitor. Sakura was still rather revolted by the entire concept, and not exactly pleased that they would be staying in such a depraved place for who knew how long until their job was done.

The guard led them to the end of the hall – thankfully clear of loitering prostitutes – and gave them each a set of keys before turning and going back the way they’d come. Only when he was gone did they notice that both of their keys had the same room number, fourteen, engraved on the wooden tag. They exchanged a weary look of understanding. But they shared rooms all the time, so it wasn’t really a big deal to either of them. That was, until Deidara opened the door and the two of them stepped inside.

“What the fuckis this?” Sakura blurted indignantly, eyes darting around the richly furnished room in outrage.

Sharing a room was fine. Sharing a bed…not so much.

They both stared dumbly at the huge four-poster with fancily carved head and footboards and bedding of a deep sapphire color as the situation sank in. It was quite nice, actually, and big enough to sleep three or four, but that was beside the point!

Deidara sighed irritably beside her, and she crossed her arms in a huff. “This is not okay. If we were both men Saito wouldn’t have pulled this shit. I mean when, at any point, exactly, did either of us give the impression that sharing a bed would be acceptable?”

“A man like Saito probably can’t fathom the idea of a man and a woman being partners and not also being fuck-buddies,” Deidara ventured, still looking around the room.

Sakura felt her cheeks color a little at his words, and was glad he wasn’t looking at her. “Well, I’m going to go have a little talk with our gracious host right now, because this is unaccep–”

“It’s fine, yeah.”

Sakura stopped midstride, her head whipping around in surprise. “Wha?” she managed, gaping at him blankly.

Deidara shrugged a little, glancing at her briefly before awkwardly looking elsewhere. “I mean, it’s not that big a deal. The bed’s huge…and it’s not like it’s the first time,” he muttered, finally meeting her wide eyed stare.

Sakura swallowed slowly, feeling self-conscious and nervous for reasons she didn’t want to think about. “Well, yeah, but…”

“Anyway, if I had my own room, those skanky girls would be hounding me day and night. Did you see the way they were looking at me? It’s like I had a sign over my head saying ‘fresh meat’,” he added, managing to look both uncomfortable and smug at the same time.

Sakura was amused by his consternation, and also inwardly pleased that he didn’t want the attention, even if the idea of it did boost his ego. “I suppose…”

He smirked deviously at her, “A few of them were looking at you too, yeah.”

She gave a short laugh and rolled her eyes, “Oh dear, how will I ever manage to resist them. Are you sure you’re ok with this?” she asked, biting her lip uncertainly.

“I think we’ll live through it.” He grinned at her, eyes glinting mischievously, “I trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”

She gave him a mock glare, but refused to retort lest the conversation head down a different path. The thought of sharing a bed with Deidara wasn’t an unappealing one, and that’s what had her worried. But the bed was massive. It would be almost like he wasn’t even there, right?

“Right,” she said, mostly to herself, “I can deal if you can.”

Sakura didn’t know if she believed her own words, and desperately hoped they could make it through this without anything weird happening. She sighed heavily and dropped her pack on the bed, staring at the satin sheets with a frown.

It was going to be a long mission.

When she enters the room he is already there, and the way he leans against the bedpost with arms crossed tells her he’s been waiting for her. He’s not wearing a shirt, his crossed arms pushing his pectoral muscles together, defining them more than usual, and she purposefully directs her gaze upward, to his face. She is about to ask him what’s going on, but something in his piercing blue eyes stop her.

The next thing she knows he’s moving, and she is moving as well because he’s grabbed her around the waist, fingers splaying just below her ribcage as he turns her around with him, and she grasps his shoulders as her back presses into the bedpost where he’d just been leaning. The carved wood digs into her spine but she doesn’t care because his face is buried in the juncture of her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent as if it intoxicates him. She gasps and winds her fingers into the soft hair at his nape when his lips press to her neck.

“Dei – nnnhh.” Her eyes snap closed when she feels his tongue against the sensitive skin of her throat, and she bites her lip, coherent thought flying out the window, when his teeth close over her tendon. “Wha –”

“Sakura,” he rasps against her skin, making her shiver and pull tighter on his hair. He likes this, because he growls something unintelligible and presses her harder against the bedpost, one hand pressing into the small of her back, the other trailing up her side to thread into her hair.

And then his lips are on hers, not asking but taking, claiming as if he has every right, as if he is the only man allowed to kiss her, and some deeper part of her whispers that yes, in fact, he is, because no one else has ever made her feel like this with only a kiss, even though he has only kissed her once before. She makes a soft sound in the back of her throat as her lips part and grant him access, which he takes greedily, his tongue entering and curling around hers in a way that leaves her breathless and weak-kneed.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs against her lips, as if unwilling to part from her even to speak. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this, to taste you and feel you against me.” He forms his words between kisses as he marks an open-mouthed trail across her jaw and down her neck. “You have no idea how bad, Sakura, how many times I’ve wanted to just throw you against the nearest wall and fuck you senseless.”

His words and actions causing a heat to spread through her limbs and pool in her belly, and she clings to him wantonly. Her short nails scrape over his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles ripple under her fingers. His hands find their way under her shirt, lightly callused fingers grazing over her abdomen and up her sides, giving her erotic chills.

“Do you want me to?” he asks, lifting his head to meet her gaze, lips curling in that sexy smirk.

She nods breathlessly before her head falls forward, her lips and tongue beginning to trace the smooth ridge of his collarbone.

“Say it, yeah,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, just before pulling the lobe between his teeth.

“I want you,” she whimpers, arching into him, willing him to touch her in other places, to take that next step.

He pushes his hips against hers, teasing her. “What do you want?”

She bites her lip at the sharp stab of pleasure his action brings. When she can speak again it is barely a whisper, “I want you to fuck me. Now.”

She feels him smirk against her skin, and he half growls, half chuckles in way that’s primal and full of promise. Then he is lifting her, tossing her onto the bed, immediately following and hovering over her, long blond hair cascading over his shoulders and tickling her chest. She arches upward eagerly, wrapping her thighs around his hips, pulling him against her. A soft moan escapes her as he complies and grinds his hips into hers, his arousal hard and straining against his pants as it rubs her center.

He unzips her shirt and unclasps her bra, and she shrugs out of them both hurriedly, eager for the feel of skin on skin. The backs of his fingers glide across her bare breast, and his thumb rubs her nipple roughly before he rolls the tightened bud between his fingers. She moans breathily as he lowers his head to close his mouth around her sensitive flesh, his tongue teasing her into a panting state within seconds. Her nails drag up his back and her fingers twist in his hair. His hand trails down her stomach, the mouth there nibbling and licking a southward trail. She moans again in sheer anticipation as his fingers ghost beneath the edge of her shorts, beneath her panties, inching slowly downward…

Sakura’s eyes flew open, a small gasp escaping her lips. She was slightly short of breath and her skin felt hot and flushed. She was also very aroused; she could feel a warm tingling and throbbing between her thighs, as well as a slight wetness. What the hell was that? She did not just have a sexual fantasy about Deidara! A…a wet dream! And it had been so vivid too, so detailed. She could still feel his phantom touch, his warm breath against her skin. Her mind had obviously spent way too much time subliminally cultivating this little problem. “Oh gods,” she mumble-whimpered to herself. She remembered the raunchy things she said in her dream-fantasy, and rolled over with a mortified groan, shoving her face into her pillow. She had said things she’d never said before and probably never would say outside of her own head. And the things he’d said to her… just thinking about it made her all warm and tingly again. Damn it, this was the last thing she needed! And she’d thought she was doing so well, too! Almost a week of sleeping next to each other, and there had been no incidents, no weirdness, nothing at all that would cause her to have a dream like this. But the fact that there was no trigger for it, that it was something already buried in her subconscious, made things even worse.

“Finally awake?”

She turned her head in the direction of Deidara’s amused voice, and mentally cringed when she saw him in the bathroom doorway. Shirtless. He was braced against the fram with one arm over his head, smirking at her in that infuriatingly sexy way, his damp hair down and falling over his shoulders. It took all of her willpower at that moment to keep her eyes trained to his face. There were a few traces of white foam on his jaw and neck. He’d been shaving before she woke up.

“We’re you having a bad dream or something? You were tossing and turning a lot, yeah.”

“I don’t remember,” she lied evenly, hoping for all she was worth that he didn’t notice her flushed state. She’d never been so thankful to be female than she was at that moment, relieved that there was no embarrassing physical evidence of her naughty dream for him to notice. She also thanked whatever gods were listening that she hadn’t moaned aloud or said anything embarrassing in her sleep, like his name.

“Why were you sleeping anyway?”

“I guess I’m still not completely adjusted to the new schedule.” They had adopted an almost entirely nocturnal lifestyle since coming here, because most of the underworld business dealings that Saito participated in happened in the middle of the night.

He nodded as he finger-combed a few strands of long, wet hair. Her eyes strayed lower, drawn to the way the muscles of his arm and shoulder flexed with each movement. They snapped back to his face when she caught herself, but she blushed again and turned her eyes away when she saw that he’d been watching her the whole time.

“Leader contacted while you were asleep,” he said after a moment, giving nothing away about whether he’d noticed her stare or what he thought of it if he had, “He wants us to carry out a side assignment, since it’s here in the city.”

Sakura nodded absently, still staring at a corner of her pillow. She’d been so engrossed in her perverted dream that she hadn’t felt the summons to her ring. She really needed to get a grip. “When?”

“He wants it done tonight, yeah.”

His voice was more muffled than before, and she figured he’d turned back into the bathroom. “Okay.” She cast a glance at the open bathroom door, and was presented with a view of Deidara’s bare, smooth back, lean muscles flexing just slightly as he resumed shaving. Images of her dream flashed in her mind again, and she turned her face into the pillow once more.

Then Deidara hissed lightly and something clattered into the sink. By the sound of it, he’d nicked himself and dropped the razor.

“Fuck me,” he grumbled under his breath.

Sakura groaned and squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “Almost…” she mumbled mournfully into her pillow, wondering how the hell she was going to deal with this extremely inconvenient problem in the days ahead.

When they were both ready, they headed out. Deidara began telling her the specifics of their side assignment while on the way to the location, but what he said stopped Sakura in her tracks in the middle of the busy street.

“…Are you serious?”

Deidara nodded somberly. “Since when is Leader not serious about something?”

Sakura swallowed uncomfortably, eyes widened in confusion and slight panic. “But…we never do assassinations.”

“I know, but we’re already here. It doesn’t make sense to send someone else.”

“I guess it can’t be helped,” she muttered listlessly, folding her arms into her cloak sleeves as they started walking again. She’d formed a habit of walking at his right side so she could see his face when she talked to him, and now she glanced up at his profile. He didn’t look very pleased about it either, though Sakura doubted he was as apprehensive as she was. “So what did this guy do to get on the hit list anyway?”

“Leader didn’t give me all the details, but apparently the guy sold information about Akatsuki to Suna.”

“And Suna hasn’t put him under protection?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’re about to find out, yeah.”

Sakura nodded slowly, frowning. This scenario wasn’t unique to Akatsuki, so she couldn’t even blame the organization for what they were about to do. It was pretty much standard procedure among all shinobi, allied and criminal alike, to eliminate turncoats and betrayers. Her own team leader was one of the most feared and well known assassins in the five nations. But it wasn’t something that she had been part of before, and it didn’t sit well with her. Also, if Sand was protecting this guy, then they would have to go through his bodyguards to get to him. Suna was Konoha’s ally, and she didn’t want to have to fight them.

“There’s something else,” Deidara said hesitantly, slowing to a stop and facing her.

Sakura stopped as well, a sickening feeling settling in her gut when she saw his expression. “…What?”

He paused as a rickshaw clambered down the road past them, the driver’s sandals flapping dully against the street as he ran. When the little jingling bells had faded to only a distant tinkle, he looked at her again.

“He wants you to do it.”

A cold rush flooded her limbs as she gaped at him. “…Me?”

He nodded, his brow pulling downward. “I asked him why, but he wouldn’t tell me. He just said it had to be you.”

“How will he even know which one of us does it?” she asked incredulously.

“Because we’re going to leave witnesses.”

Her eyes widened even further. “What do you mean?”

“This guy hangs out almost every night at one of the most popular nightclubs in the city. We’re to do it there, in front of everyone, to make an example of him and send the message that betraying Akatsuki is a very bad idea. Don’t worry; there’s no law enforcement here, and anyone else is too scared of Akatsuki to interfere. People get killed all the time in this city anyway, yeah.”

That wasn’t what Sakura was concerned about, though just because murder was common in this place didn’t mean it was okay. Were the people of Fuzen really that jaded? It occurred to her that yes, they probably were.

Deidara noticed the way she paled and nervously chewed her lip, and sighed. “I know this won’t be easy for you, but I can’t see any way around it. If I do it and Leader finds out, which he will, then…”

“I know,” she said. He didn’t need to complete that sentence. She already knew how unpleasant it would be to deal with Pein if they defied his orders. Her frown deepened. “Do you think he’s testing me?”

He didn’t reply immediately, gazing out around the busy street with a thoughtful frown. “Probably,” he said finally. “I’m sure he knows about the situation with Hidan and that kid by now. I think he wants to make sure your compassion isn’t a problem, yeah.”

Sakura didn’t reply to that. They both knew what he said was right, and they both knew there was no other option. The uncomfortable feeling in her stomach tightened into a hardened knot. She had to do it. She could not bring suspicion on herself. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then gave a resigned nod. “Let’s get it over with, then,” she said bleakly, and resumed walking.

The incident went smoothly, she supposed, for the type of situation it was. They walked another few blocks to the club in silence, and no one stopped them on their way in. They asked for the man to the security at the door. He took one glance at their recognizable cloaks, pointed to the back, and then effectively looked the other way. They found the target in the VIP room; an average looking man surrounded by an entourage, a provocatively dressed woman draped over each arm. He knew who they were and why there were there, but they repeated his offense for all to hear. The only guards with him were his own, and they made their choice and stayed in their seats rather than defend their boss against Akatsuki.

The fear in his eyes as he sat paralyzed in the booth brought images of that poor boy to Sakura’s mind, and she knew she didn’t have it in her to do it the ugly way; to plunge the kodachi concealed under her cloak into his chest or drag it across his throat, to feel the sick slide of sharpened steel through flesh. Not like this, not when removed from the heat and adrenaline of battle. Not when her own life wasn’t at risk.

And so in the end she did it the way only she could, moving silently behind his seat and sliding a hand over the back of his neck, just a quick flash of chakra through her fingertips to sever his spinal column. Instant. Painless. And then it was over, and they left as the chaos began; the women’s screams and the men’s alarmed clamoring as their eliminated target slumped headfirst against the table, knocking his drink over. Again no one moved to stop them, only wary and frightened stares followed after them as they walked right back through the front door and out into the night.

It was almost surreal, the way it went down, almost like how they did it in the movies. But then again, wasn’t the lifestyle she’d immersed herself in precisely what those mobster movies were made about? But in this reality, the mobsters weren’t at the top of the food chain. Akatsuki was. The mob was afraid of them. And Sakura was part of that equation now, as much as any of the other members. Thirty witnesses in a crowded nightclub who had seen her – outwardly appearing cold and ruthless – do what she had done, would testify to that.

But Sakura wasn’t that cool and collected seductress on the movie screen, who killed men on a whim while still looking impossibly gorgeous. Sakura was the girl who had gotten in over her head, who had taken a job too big for her. The girl who was struggling to remain afloat in a sea of responsibility and duty, but was steadily being pulled down by the undertow. Sakura was the girl who now sat silently on a bed in a room in a seedy brothel, her brow against her pulled-up knees, eyes closed tight, wondering how the hell she ever ended up like this.

She knew the facts, the chain of events that had led her here. What she didn’t comprehend was how, how she had evolved into the type of person who could stand by and watch a young boy be tortured and murdered, how she had become someone who could kill a man who had done nothing to her or anyone she cared about, simply because she was told to. She knew it was more complex than that; she was only following Akatsuki orders because of her mission. But still, when had she become a person who could even carry out a mission like this? Had it always been her fate, an inevitable part of being a ninja, no matter who she took orders from? Or had something changed inside of her, darkened, until she was capable of such things? True, it bothered her; she couldn’t do it with an unmoved conscience. But nonetheless, she could still do it now, when there used to be a time when she couldn’t have. Some would say it meant she was a fully capable shinobi now, when before she’d been weak and little more than useless in their profession and lifestyle. But to Sakura, it felt like she was losing sight of who she really was. Or she was discovering who she really was, and that scared her more than anything.

She felt Deidara move near her, his familiar presence brushing the edge of her senses, and a moment later the mattress dipped as he sat down and shifted to the center to settle beside her. He didn’t speak, didn’t ask if she was alright because he knew the answer. He was simply there, waiting, willing to listen if she wanted to talk. She wanted to hug him for that, wanted to cry on his shoulder, but too many things prevented her from doing so. But she allowed herself to lean against him, her side flush with his, her head lifting from her knees to fall against the outer part of his shoulder.

“I’ve never had to kill someone in cold blood before,” she said very quietly, eyes focused on nothing.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Her brow creased in a frown. “He was a bad man. I know his type. I’m sure he’d done more than one thing in his life that he deserved to die for, but I still can’t…justify it like that. I’ve killed before, to protect my life, my friends, my beliefs... But I’m not the right person for things like this. I’m not an assassin… I can’t –” She cut off with a heavy sigh, wrapping in her arms tighter around her knees.

A long moment of silence passed, and Deidara shifted a little, though not away from contact with her. “I know”, he said again, his own expression troubled, “It gets easier, with time…though that in itself fucks you up inside.”

She could hear in his voice that he spoke from experience. Of course. There had to have been a time when he was in her position, though it may not have been the same circumstance and he had certainly been much younger than she was now. It had to have happened to all of them; the ones who’d seen true war, the ones from the old way of doing things. They all had to have questioned themselves, wondered when and how they’d become so jaded, so desensitized. Those shinobi of the old school would probably laugh at her, and tell her this was nothing compared to what they’d seen and done, and to stop sniveling and grow up. Kakashi had warned her before she left, and now it was staring her in the face. She chose to be a shinobi, and it was far past time she acted like one.

“I feel like I don’t know myself anymore,” she murmured dolefully.

Deidara shifted again, this time to look down at her. “You’re still the same girl I met all those years ago.”

She met his eyes. “But not entirely.”

He watched her a moment, then shook his head a little. “No,” he agreed, “But you’re still a good person, Sakura, no matter how much you’ve changed. In fact, you’re the best person I know.” He gave her a faint, reassuring smile.

She smiled back, and there it was again, that urge to hug him and tell him how much his friendship meant to her. But she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Doing so was dangerous, emotionally speaking…not to mention it would probably startle him or put him on edge, and then it would get weird between them. He wasn’t used to such things. The parameters of their relationship – tenuous as they were – didn’t allow for blatant displays of affection, platonic or otherwise. He wasn’t Naruto.

Thinking about Naruto made her stomach twist up in knots and her eyes burn. Her head dropped to her knees again to hide the sudden surge of emotion. She’d been trying so hard not to think about that day near the Fire border nearly two weeks ago. Poor Naruto. If he hadn’t hated her before, he almost certainly did now, after the way she’d tricked him. Again.

Sakura suddenly hated this mission more than she’d ever hated anything before. It was destroying everything about her life that she cherished. It was consuming her from the inside out. But even more than she hated her mission, she hated the necessity for it. If not for Akatsuki, her best friend’s life wouldn’t be in danger. If not for Akatsuki, she wouldn’t be a traitor to all of her friends and comrades. If not for Akatsuki, she could be at home in her village with the people she loved, and not here in this depraved city with its corrupt citizens, doing things she despised herself for in the name of higher duty.

“You know something?” She shifted so that she faced him, though she kept her gaze on the dark blue covers beneath them. “I hate this mission. I hate what we’re doing here. I hate the reason we’re here in the first place. I fucking hate all of it.” She scowled angrily at nothing for a long moment. Then her features relaxed and she finally lifted her gaze to his, taking a deep breath, “I hate being Akatsuki.”

Deidara watched her silently, his expression clouded. Her quiet but firm declaration had been a bold one. It also showed that she trusted him, to express her thoughts so openly, without knowing how he’d react to such treacherous words. But the truth, what she didn’t really know, was that he agreed with her wholeheartedly. Like her, he’d just been out in the world alone, trying to survive, and had gained Akatsuki’s attention because he possessed a particular set of talents. Just like her, he was only here because he was forced to be. But the more he thought about what they were doing, on the whole as Akatsuki, as well as what was happening here and now, with Sakura, the more it didn’t sit well with him. It seemed she felt much the same way he did, perhaps more so. She had trusted him and been honest with him. He should do the same with her.

“So do I, yeah,” he said quietly.

Jade eyes widened slowly and travelled to lock with his. She didn’t speak; the expression on her face was question enough.

“I never wanted to join Akatsuki. Hell, I never even wanted to be a ninja in the first place. It just turns out it’s the only thing besides art that I’m good at.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I was forced into Akatsuki with a lot less subtly than you were. I was blatantly informed that I was the new member, and then tricked by Itachi so that I had no way out, unless I wanted to blow myself up then and there.

“And as far as Akatsuki’s goal…I don’t care about it. Actually, I completely disagree with it. Violence will never be bred out of people like Leader thinks. His whole idea of purifying the world with fire and brimstone, it’s just ridiculous. Enforcing peace through fear? That’s nothing more than subjugation and tyranny. It won’t change anything. And you know me well enough by now to know that oppression of any kind doesn’t fly with me, yeah.”

Sakura nodded faintly in agreement, and he sighed before continuing. “But…I stay, because the only alternative is a pathetic existence of running and hiding until I’m hunted down and killed by them or hunter nins or somebody else. And like I said to you when you joined; it doesn’t seem that bad on the surface. Sure, we get paid a lot and we can do pretty much whatever we want as long as we follow orders. But the problem is we don’t have the option to refuse. We can’t just throw in the towel and walk away from it if we decide we don’t like it anymore.” His expression darkened. “We’re nothing but…dogs, with really long leashes.”

“You’re right, I suppose. But…what you’re saying is kind of true for all shinobi, if you really think about it,” she said.

“Would your former village have made you kill that man tonight?” he asked pointedly. Her deepening frown was answer enough. “No—they would have sent someone more suited to the job. And when you get old, or tired, or just burnt out, you can retire…and go live in a little house in the country and grow tomatoes in your garden or whatever. Sounds boring as hell, but you know what I mean, yeah.”

Sakura nodded. “I know what you mean, and I completely agree with you, about all of it.”

It was quiet a moment, and then Deidara gave a short laugh, shaking his head, “Wow…I’ve never told anyone all of that before.”

She smiled softly at him. “You can trust me, Deidara. I trust you, too.”

“I know, or else I wouldn’t have said as much as I did,” he said, a playful lilt returning to his tone.

She gazed at him thoughtfully, an inkling of an idea forming in her mind. “If you could…I mean, if the opportunity presented itself, and you found a way to get out…would you take it?” she asked quietly.

His expression was unreadable as he watched her. Then the corner of his lips pulled up in that familiar smirk. “I would. And I’d take you with me, yeah.”

Jade eyes widened. “Really?”

His smirk widened to a grin. “Of course. We’re friends right?”

Those words affected her in ways she couldn’t really define; warmth and affection, and maybe a faint twinge of guilt, because there was still so much she couldn’t tell him. Not yet, at least. But she smiled and leaned a little, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “Yeah. We are.”

Sakura stared at her drink blandly, watching the ice melt as she stirred it with a tiny straw. It was called a Vice Grip, a local specialty, and an obvious pun on its city of origin. It certainly felt like a vice constricted her throat every time it went down. She hadn’t seen what the bartender put in it, but it kicked like it contained at least six different kinds of hard liquor. It may taste like paint thinner, but at least it was doing a good job of eliminating her tension headache.

Tired and cranky after the long day she’d had – or rather, night, as it was nearing four a.m., and having nothing better to do at the moment, she’d decided to take Saito up on his offer of a complimentary open tab. The establishment closed at six, and didn’t open again until the next afternoon at four. Apparently even the wicked needed to rest. So at this late hour there were only one or two inebriated patrons laying about the opulently furnished lounge and the sickening smell of incense and opium wasn’t as strong, making it tolerable to be in there.

Tonight she and Deidara had gone on separate tasks, to appraise two of Saito’s different businesses. Her partner had gone to a warehouse complex on the docks, and Sakura had gone to one of the casinos uptown. One would imagine a night in a casino would be entertaining, or at least lively, but not in her case. No, she had spent the night in a windowless basement office, poring over stacks and stacks of financial records under harsh florescent lighting. She’d finished early, thankfully, but the sheer tedious monotony of it had worn her down and zapped all of her energy.

She wondered if Deidara’s night was faring any better than hers. What Saito didn’t know was that once Deidara was finished with the appraisal of the warehouses, he was going to meet with another boss, to gather more information about their host and see about any other potential offers available to Akatsuki in this city. That could take a good while, and he probably wouldn’t return until after she’d gone to sleep. That was okay with her, because she could use a little time to herself to think.

Yesterday had been a very confusing and taxing day, both mentally and emotionally. Not the least of which was that dream. That had been a purely sexual fantasy, something she couldn’t remember ever having before. Yes, she’d fantasized about romantic scenarios with Sasuke when she was younger, but never anything so blatantly raunchy or lustful, not even when she’d been involved with him. So it was pretty obvious, to herself anyway, that she lusted after her partner. Who could blame her? Deidara was damn sexy, and she wasn’t the only one who thought so, judging by the way the girls in this place drooled whenever he walked by and practically stalked him when she wasn’t around.

But was that all it was, simply lust? That was the question she was avoiding answering. And to make things worse, she had a feeling that whatever it was, it ran both ways. She didn’t know for a fact, because she was unwilling to test her theory, but she recognized the chemistry between them from day one, and she was pretty sure Deidara recognized it too. He had kissed her once, after all. True, it had been an impulsive thing done out of gratitude, but there had been real sparks there, and they both knew it.

So the question was, what should she do about it? The logical answer was ‘nothing’. Ignore it. Keep it professional. Get some distance if need be. But there was no way to do that when they had to share a room and a bed while on this assignment, and at the rate things were going, it could be another two or three months before they were finished here.

She looked up from her ice-diluted drink as someone took the stool next to her, one of the house girls by the heady waft of perfume filling her nostrils. She’d seen this woman around the place several times, but never with any of the men, unless it was conversation. Her long black hair was done in an elaborate traditional style, which contrasted sharply with her pale skin and deep red lipstick. She wore a dark green silk yukata with gold embroidery that was belted in a way that exposed a large portion of her ample chest, along with a necklace of rubies that looked very real and dangled into her cleavage. She was older, around forty probably, with a few lines around her dark rimmed eyes and heavily painted mouth, and was a little thicker than the other girls. But Sakura could tell she had been beautiful once. Still was, in worn out sort of way, like an aged painting.

The woman studied her and took a drag from one end of long, thin cigarette holder in her hand, before smiling at her. “Sakura, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice low and slightly raspy, no doubt from years of smoking.

Sakura merely stared at her, mildly annoyed that her internalizing had been interrupted, and wondered what exactly this lady wanted. “Yes,” she said finally.

The woman smiled again, wider this time, showing a flash of yellowed teeth. “I’m Mina. I take care of the girls here.”

So it was as Sakura thought; this was the madam. Saito owned the place and made most of the profit, but this woman managed it, at least the brothel portion. She was surprised she hadn’t met her before now, since they were using a room on the “VIP” floor. Sakura didn’t reply to her. She wasn’t really in the mood to be nice or make small talk.

The madam wasn’t fazed by her standoffishness. “You’re a ninja, right?”

Sakura nodded wearily before taking another drink.

“So where’s that gorgeous man you’re here with?”

Sakura gave her a withering look. “Out.”

Mina nodded perceptively. “Can’t talk about it, huh? I understand; I get it all the time from Saito and the other bigwigs that come in here. Though I must say, I’ve never seen him fawn over anyone the way he does over you two. Whatever you’re doing here must be very important to him.”

Sakura pursed her lips wryly. Of course; it was only Saito’s very livelihood that was at stake, should they accept his offer or not.

The madam waved her hand indifferently. “But enough about that. I’ve been meaning to ask you; is that sexy partner of yours as good in bed as he looks?”

Sakura choked on her very potent drink, the backwash into her nasal cavity burning bad enough to make her eyes water. “…the fuck?” she managed, frowning at the other woman.

Mina didn’t miss a beat, “One of my girls said she saw he has mouths on his hands…. Damn, all the amazing things he could do to a woman with those…” She blew out sharply, her expression turning dreamy for a moment. “Good gods he’s a like walking, talking fantasy! He must be a fantastic lover,” she said slyly, giving Sakura a saucy wink.

Sakura gaped at the older woman, who simply stared at her with a knowing smile and waited for an answer. Great. The exact topic she didn’t want to talk about. She cleared her throat irritably, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh? So you haven’t fucked him?”

“No.”

“Well what are you waiting for, girl? That’s a fine piece of man you’re sharing a room with! When are you gonna get yourself some of that?”

Sakura was a shocked by her audacity and crudeness for a moment, but then frowned indignantly. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s not like that.”

Mina snorted and took a drag from her cigarette. “Now that’s a load of bs if I ever heard it,” she said, smoke curling out from her ruby lips in slow, thick tendrils.

Jade eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

She laughed, a low, dry rustling in her throat. “Honey you may have only been here a couple weeks, but the thing between you and him is as plain as day to someone who’s been around the block as many times as I have.” She watched the younger woman’s expression a moment, interpreted her wide eyed confusion, and laughed again. “Shit. You’re tellin me that my girls have been so jealous of you they’re turning green from it, and you don’t even see what’s right in front of those pretty eyes of yours?”

“What are you talking about?” Her voice came out much quieter and more hesitant than she intended.

“You wear that big, bulky cloak all the time – a shame too, because I know you just have to have a gorgeous figure under there – and my girls walk about with next to nothing on and decked out for all their worth, putting the goods you try to hide on full display. On top of that, they’ve practically been throwing themselves at that man’s feet whenever they see him. And yet…he hasn’t taken any of their offers. He’s barely even looked at them,” she explained, before fixing another cigarette to the end of the long holder and lighting it.

This woman was becoming increasingly annoying and disturbing, and Sakura made a deliberate face at the smell of smoke and fixed her with a pointed glare. “Maybe he just doesn’t like whores.”

The madam took no offense to the insult. No doubt she’d been called much worse in her time. She gave a conceding nod, but her painted lips twisted in amusement. “No…I don’t believe he does. But that’s not the point I’m making, honey.”

“Then what exactly is your point, Mina?” Sakura demanded waspishly.

Mina smiled at her again; the kind of smile only a woman who’s seen it all can give a young girl who knows nothing. “I see the way he watches you when you’re not looking. He’s young, and can’t hide the signs from an old pro like me. Neither can you for that matter, because I see the way you look at him too. Trust me honey; you may not be screwing him, but there ain’t nothin platonic about your relationship.”

Sakura was past the point of annoyed, and had descended into full blown anger. Who the fuck did this woman think she was? She had no right to talk to her like this! She was nothing but a dried up old prostitute. “You don’t know a thing about me, or Deidara, or anything about our relationship. Furthermore, it’s none of your goddamned business,” she snapped. Just then out of the corner of her eye she saw Deidara walk through the front entrance, spot her, and start walking toward her. She gave a small huff of relief and fixed a glare on the madam again. “Look. Mina. You may be enjoying this little chat, but my partner is back and I need to speak with him, so you’ll have to excuse yourself now.”

Mina gave her a final knowing smile and stood. “Your defensiveness betrays you, darlin. But I’ll keep my opinions to myself from now on if that’s what you want. Just do yourself a favor and think about what I said.” And with that, she turned on her stiletto heel and walked away.

Sakura scowled after her a moment, then knocked back the remains of her drink. Her headache had returned with a vengeance, and she groaned in frustration as she slammed the empty glass on the bar top.

Deidara reached her side a moment later. She started a little when she felt his chakra fluctuating, rapid and weak, and looked up at him in surprise. “Did you get in a fight?” Her eyes widened when she saw how pale and clammy he was, his eyes glassy with pain. Then she caught the coppery smell of blood, and reached for him in alarm, gasping softly when her hands brushed the front of his cloak. Wet. Red on her fingers. “What happened, Dei –”

Deidara grasped her elbow tightly and shook his head once, a tense jerk of movement, his jaw clenched to suppress the pain. “Upstairs,” he said, a low growl for only her to hear.

Sakura quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Didn’t look like it, thankfully. She nodded to him, and they walked through the room toward the stairs. They maintained their casual demeanor all the way to their room. Deidara’s breathing was slightly erratic as they climbed the stairs, but he walked upright and calm, and Sakura was amazed by his iron willpower.

When they got into the room she quickly shut the door and locked it, and Deidara fell back against it, his eyes closed tightly. Sakura immediately reached for him, quickly popping the clasps on his cloak, finally seeing the jagged tearing in the fabric surrounded by a darker stain on the black cloth. “What happened?” she asked again, her tone low and composed as she slipped into medic mode.

He winced as she helped him shrug out of the cloak. “Fucking…motherfuckers…at the meeting,” he ground out, his voice strained and unsteady.

He was in too much pain to string a full sentence together, she realized. “The other syndicate?” she ventured. He nodded. “I take it they don’t want to make a deal with Akatsuki,” she said wryly.

He gave a short, scathing laugh. “No.”

Her brow furrowed in a frown. “I should have gone with you.” She grasped the edge of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms over your head?” He tried, and then grunted and tensed in pain halfway up. “Okay, stop,” she said gently, placing her hands on his arms and lowering them to his sides again. She reached into the weapon holster on his thigh and pulled out a kunai. “Hope this wasn’t a favorite shirt,” she said with a faint smirk, then slit the front from waist to neck. She dropped the kunai into the floorboards and reached up to carefully pull the open halves of his shirt off, but when she finally got a full look at his injury her eyes widened in shock. “Oh, fuck. Deidara, this is a lot worse than you made it seem!” she exclaimed, alarm creeping back into her expression and voice.

Deidara looked like he was about to pass out at this point, but he complied when Sakura grabbed him by the elbow and steered him to the bed. “Lay down flat on your back,” she instructed, more urgently than before. She tossed the pillows aside and helped ease him down to the mattress. She quickly pulled off her own cloak and threw it onto a nearby armchair, keeping her eyes on his injury. His entire stomach was covered in blood, running in rivulets down his torso and soaking into his pants, so much so that she couldn’t even see the actual wound. She hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, wetted it through under the faucet, then returned to the bed and carefully crawled next to him.

Stomach wounds were always messy and rarely fatal, but she couldn’t see the true severity of it until it was cleaned up more. She removed his clay pouches and set them aside, then placed her hands over the indistinct mass of crimson where the wound had to be and channeled chakra into him to staunch the bleeding, biting her lip in concentration. His heart beat rapidly and his blood pressure was dropping, so triggering an adrenaline release to ease his pain was too dangerous. She settled on numbing the surrounding area instead. He relaxed a little as it took effect, and she glanced up at him. “Feel any better?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice stronger than before, the pain no longer sapping it.

After a few minutes she figured he was feeling well enough to talk. “Did the meeting go bad, or do you think they never had any intention of working with us?” she asked as she gently and carefully wiped the excess blood from his abdomen with the wet towel.

“They planned it…fuckers were waiting.”

Sakura couldn’t really blame them for not wanting to work with Akatsuki, or for resisting having their assets taken, but she was still filled with simmering anger, because they had hurt her friend. “Well that will probably be their last mistake. Once we tell Leader I’m sure we’ll get the order to take them all out,” she said quietly, absently, as she focused on him.

“No need. They’re already dead, yeah.”

Her eyes flew up in surprise. “You did –?”

Deidara nodded. “You think I’d just let some civilian gangsters pull this shit on me and get away with it?”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” she said wryly.

One corner of his lips curled in a half grin, though it was faint and strained. “If you go outside and look toward the harbor, I’m sure you’ll see a very artistic scenario.”

“You destroyed their shipping complex.” She didn’t bother to make it a question.

His grin widened. “Art is a bang, yeah.”

After another minute or so she could clearly see the damage, and her stomach clenched with worry at how bad it really was. Five distinct, jagged puncture wounds formed a circle above his navel, the fifth being the largest and in the center of the others. It looked like he’d been stuck with something multi-pronged, then had it been ripped out again. “What did this?” she asked, her expression contorted in concern as she began to repair the ripped tissue.

Deidara frowned. “Some sort of…crossbow-grappling hook hybrid contraption. Nearly yanked me off my bird before I cut the rope, yeah.”

“You pulled it out yourself, then?”

He nodded.

“That was incredibly stupid. I’m sure it was bad enough already, and you only made it ten times worse by doing that,” she reproved.

He frowned indignantly. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Come back here with it still stuck in my gut?”

“Yes, dumbass! If you’d waited for me to help you, you wouldn’t be such a fucking mess!”

“I made it back, didn’t I? What are you so pissed about?”

“I’m not angry. It’s just –” She sighed in frustration and shook her hair out of her face. “I should have gone with you,” she said for the second time, her voice softening.

Deidara watched her as she worked, enjoying the warm, soothing feel of her chakra, though his brow creased thoughtfully. “You’re…worried about me?” he asked quietly.

Jade eyes travelled up to meet pain-clouded blue, her expression contorting briefly. “Of course I am, stupid!” she admonished with a huff, though her tone was soft. She wiped her fingers clean on the towel before reaching up to tenderly move the wayward strands of blond hair from his sweaty brow, her lips pulling downward into a troubled little pout. “I would never forgive myself if something happened and you got killed when I could have been there to help you.”

“I won’t be killed that easily,” he said. She frowned at him. He closed his fingers around her forearm, his thumb stroking softly over the inside of her wrist, and smiled a little as those luminous green eyes flicked to watch his action. “I knew I’d be okay,” he said softly, drawing her gaze to his once more, “because I have you, yeah.”

Sakura stared at him, unable to think of a reply, and not sure she could speak anyway. After a moment though, she gave him a small, sweet smile and pulled her fingers free of his hair. His hand remained in contact with her arm as it slipped downward, and she trailed her fingertips over his temple and cheek as she pulled away.

It was quiet between them for the next several minutes, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, the silence was filled with subliminal understanding, a mutual recognition that things between them were not the same anymore and they wouldn’t be again.

Sakura now had the answers to the questions she’d avoided. No, it wasn’t only physical. Yes, it went both ways. And after what happened tonight, combined with what happened the previous night, accepting those truths was not as difficult as it had been before. It was so complicated, and she had no idea how she was going to deal with it, but she didn’t want to pretend it didn’t exist anymore.

When the internal damage was mended and the five wounds were finally closed, she emitted a fatigued sigh and stopped her chakra output. His stomach was still bruised and reddened, but the deeper injury was healed. She removed his weapon holster, and he lifted his knee a little to give her better access as she unwound the strip of cloth from his thigh. Next she removed her own weapons and medic’s apron. Deidara carefully kicked off his boots as she rifled in one of the apron’s pouches for a long strip of bandage.

“Sit up for a moment,” she urged quietly, and he did so, wincing just slightly at the soreness still prevalent in his abdomen. She began wrapping the bandage strip around his waist. “Not too tight is it?” He shook his head ‘no’. Now that he was sitting up his face was only a few inches above hers, and so she kept her eyes trained on what she was doing. “It will be sore like that for a few days, but there’s no real damage anymore,” she explained quietly. She finished wrapping and tucked the edge in, then began searching the rest of him, blinking hard to try and stay focused. “Did you get injured anywhere else–?”

“Sakura, stop,” he said quietly. “You’re exhausted.”

Sakura looked up into his eyes, finally clear of pain, though still tired. Their closeness was starting to affect her. She could feel his breath against her skin. “I know. I just want to make sure–”

“I’m fine now,” he cut her off again. “I just need a good night’s sleep. And so do you, yeah.”

Sakura gave a weary sigh and nodded, barely able to keep her eyes open. Deidara threw the bloodstained towel onto the floor, and after making sure there wasn’t blood on the sheets, put the pillows back in place and lay down again. Sakura removed her boots, but couldn’t bother getting up to turn the light off. She threw her boot at the switch near the door. Once her aim hit true and the light went out, she dimly registered the faint light of dawn coming through the gap in the curtains and then fell on her side, too exhausted to care that her brow was pressed against the top of Deidara’s shoulder, or that her arm had fallen over his, her hand resting on his forearm.

He didn’t seem to mind either, and after a moment actually shifted a little closer to her. She felt his head turn to the side against his pillow, facing her, his nose almost touching her hair.

“Sakura?” he murmured quietly, barely disturbing the silence.

“Mm?”

“…Thanks.”

Sakura smiled sleepily and nodded against his shoulder. Then she curled her arm around his, shifting just a little closer.

Within moments they were both sound asleep.