A Cornucopia of Conundrums

Summary: "So what you're saying is; you had a one-night stand with some yakuza lordling and now you're pregnant with his baby?" SasuSaku. AU.

I'm so tired of waiting,
Aren't you,
For the world to become good,
And beautiful and kind?
Let us take a knife
And cut the world in two –
And see what worms are eating,
At the rind.

~ Tired by Lanston Huges

Late into his recovery, when Sakura was helping him rehabilitate his hand, when he knew that their time was running short, Sasuke was summoned by the Oyabun.

His abdomen still stung and he was always gingerly trying to relocate the weight of his body to the sides of his hips. The space where his fingers had been now felt achingly hollow, the movement in his left arm was still touch-and-go for a while, and the lacerations on his back still stretched whenever he moved, but he could sit and walk by himself now. Sakura told him that was incredible improvement.

It was Yahiko who came to deliver the summons when Sasuke was sitting on the engawa in front of his room. Sakura and Sarada were having lunch, Mikoto was with them, while Itachi and Fugaku – who had only once visited him, treated him with frosty disappointed silence, and never come again – were probably taking care of his tasks at the Panopticon.

Yahiko always exuded a cool, calm, sort of menace. He was precise and ruthless. Sasuke didn't know his story, but something had made him cruel and his vendetta with the world was only answered as the leader of the Oyabun's Akatsuki. So, he knew that Madara was not playing around anymore if he'd sent him.

Sasuke had been expecting this summons sooner, but what really made his blood turn cold, then immediately boil, was when Yahiko said, "He wishes to see your child, as well."

Sasuke swallowed, unable to breathe for a moment. Every single injury on his body burned with the urge to defy that order. What if he does the same to Sarada? Sakura had asked him and he hadn't been able to reply because he knew all too well that the Oyabun was not above it.

"It would be well in your favor not to incur his ire," Yahiko advised him, almost morosely pursuing his body as if cataloguing each of the injuries that he himself had inflicted upon Sasuke. "And," he continued, turning to part ways, "that includes making him wait."

In that moment, Sasuke felt such bone-deep helplessness and vulnerability, that it almost left him breathless. The fury came belatedly, right on the heels of powerlessness, and he had trouble reining it in. He knew he didn't have much time, so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. The dull pain lancing up and down his hides helped him focus. He was fastening his yukata in the room when Sakura came in, closely followed by Sarada, who now took great pains not to touch him too much or too hard lest she hurt him somehow. It never failed to twist his heart painfully.

"Papa!" she announced, bouncing on the tips of her toes and presenting him with a daisy that she'd plucked from the garden.

He received the flower courteously, heart hammering in his chest with fear. "Sarada," he said tenderly. "Can you give us a minute?" he asked, shooting a quick glance at Sakura.

Sarada, as always, seemed to be leaps and strides ahead in Mama and Papa's relationship within her head, because she simply flashed him a wide, happy grin and said, "I'll get some more flowers!" and ran out.

Sakura was much more perceptive. Her face was grim as she looked at him.

Sasuke saw no point in delaying the inevitable, so he told her. "The Oyabun – he summoned me. Along with Sarada."

Sakura's expression immediately turned bleak and full of fear. It broke his heart and turned his stomach to see this strong, capable woman turn so deathly afraid. He found his feet closing the distance between them almost involuntarily, but he was more than aware of his hand cupping the side of her face, the way she gasped slightly as his lips touched her cheek in a tender, lingeringly soft kiss. He was almost afraid to pull away, heart resounding in his chest, but there was very little time now, so he had no choice.

Her gaze was fierce and full of questions as she looked at him. He answered by pulling out two tanto blades from inside his yukata and pressing them in her hand. "I won't let him hurt her," he promised, completely sure of at least that one small fact as he went outside.

Sarada's happiness was slightly subdued when he told her that they'd be meeting Jiji-chan.

"Are you afraid?" he asked, holding her hand tighter in his own and halting his quick pace to a slow walk, knowing that he'd never make her meet Madara if the answer was yes, damned the consequences.

"No," she answered, then looked a little wry. "I was just hoping you'd have some more alone-time with Mama."

Sasuke felt…exasperated. Perhaps, he thought, that's exactly how Sakura felt when she heard such things from Sarada. Almost in a replica of Sakura's confounded tone, he found himself saying, "Sarada."

"What?" she asked, irreverently not meeting his eyes. "I know you like her, now. I can tell."

He could do nothing but shake his head at her cheek, and neither could he deny her savvy observation, but his entire demeanor turned somber as they walked into the center of the compound.

He hesitated a moment outside the Oyabun's ima, itching with the urge to just take Sarada in his arms and run far, far away. Not now, he told himself. Not yet.

They were told to come inside, and immediately upon entering Sasuke was hit by an intense nausea. He knew it wasn't possible, but the stale smell of tobacco still felt layered with blood – his blood. The sharp tang of it hit him like a blast, ripe and metallic. It was hard for him to curb the sudden bout of dizziness, but he managed to do so anyway, holding Sarada's hand tighter than ever, both to anchor himself, and to keep the dread at bay.

The Oyabun sat, timeless as ever behind his kotatsu. His kimono was a blood red and black today and surprisingly, his kiseru was unlit. There was a plate of dango placed in the middle of the kotatsu.

"Sit," Madara said benevolently.

Warily, Sasuke let Sarada tug him to the center of the ima. He felt suffocated within this room now, knowing what happened to people who defied Madara right here. It was hard to bend in a proper bow, but he must have managed because the Oyabun looked suitably mollified.

"Ojii-sama!" Sarada said happily, unaware of Sasuke's distinct discomfort. He loved how unassumingly happy and trusting she was. He wished that she would remain so forever. He knew that this innocence was beyond price, now.

"Ojou-sama," Madara inclined his head courteously.

"Did you get the dango for me?" she asked with a wide grin.

"Of course," was the answer.

With every second, Sasuke's heart was sinking further and further down his chest, because as the Oyabun answered Sarada, he also shot Sasuke meaningful glances.

"Thank you," Sarada bowed sweetly then clapped her hands in a cheerful, "Itadakimasu," as she picked up the first dango stick. As Sarada dug into the sweets, Sasuke was leveled with a dark look from the Oyabun.

"I must say, Sasuke," he drawled in his gravely voice. "I was extremely disappointed in you. One might have thought you'd appreciate getting rid of the things getting in the way of you and your daughter."

The pure, vindictive cruelty of those words left Sasuke completely unfooted. He shot a quick look at Sarada, who looked at him curiously while chewing her sweet. The Oyabun, meanwhile, was observing him very carefully.

"It would be a tragedy," he continued, "if one were to get attached to a mere pest."

While outside, Sasuke was managing to rein in his temper, inside, his blood was boiling. His hands were balled into a fist on top of his knees. His body was so tense that every half-healed scab was going taut. The hollow of his finger stubs burned. He grit his teeth, averted his head in a mockery of obsequious respect, and tried to swallow his anger.

Madara looked almost kind as he said, "You've done well until now, Sasuke. Do not let a nark sway you from your path."

Sasuke felt bitter to the bone and ached just as horribly from the stiffness, but he grit his teeth and bowed his head in deference.

"I won't be as kind next time," he told Sasuke darkly, and Sasuke had to close his lids to keep his eyes from flashing.

"I will expect better of you in the future," said Marada with cold and resolute finality, looking away, already bored with the conversation. "Ojou-sama," he addressed Sarada again. "May I know what you wish to become as you grow older."

Sarada, who had been just about to reach for a second stick of dango stopped. "Me?" she asked, looking a little sheepish.

"Who else?" Madara's said with a humoring smile.

"Well," said Sarada, putting a finger to her chin and looking embarrassed as she peeked at Papa. "I always wanted to be the Hokage."

A stunned beat of silence. "Hokage?" the Oyabun echoed, then laughed a burst of completely supercilious laughter that withered into a delightedly cruel smile as he turned to Sasuke. Madara's expression was pitiless as he said, "Such high ambitions. Your daughter has found the right home, Sasuke. I shall make sure that she achieves her dream."

The words were like a sucker punch to the gut and Sasuke truly felt his blood run cold this time. It took all his might to keep his fists clenched, to keep his mouth pressed in a firm line, and to hold himself as together as he possibly could because Sarada was beaming and Sasuke's heart was breaking because he knew what went in the making of an Uchiha Hokage. How much bloodshed, drama, and viciousness were poured into the heartless politics of the rengo. He knew the consequences of defiance because he was there when Hatake Kakashi's eyes had been gouged out.

I'll get her out, he told himself. I will get them both out before it ever comes to that.

Soon after, they were dismissed.

On their way back, Sarada asked, "Papa, are you okay?"

At his confused, almost discomfited look, she gestured her chin towards their hands. "You keep holding my hand tighter."

"I'm fine," Sasuke assured her, and Sarada observed him carefully before shrugging her shoulders. "Who's a pest, by the way?" she asked. "Jiji-chan said you like a pest. Do you have a pet insect? Because, that's gross." She made a face, and Sasuke's heart almost crumbled at the irony.

What, he thought, I wouldn't give to keep you this way.

Sakura paced the engawa outside their room as she waited for Sarada and Sasuke to return. Her heart hammered in her chest, but surprisingly, she also felt a determined sort of calm. She knew that Madara couldn't physically hurt Sasuke anymore than he already had – he wouldn't have waited so long to do that if he truly wanted to.

What really made her anxious was why he'd demanded Sarada to be a part of whatever he wanted to tell Sasuke. She could no longer imagine the amount of cruelty that the Oyabun could resort to.

To make matters worse, Mikoto was right there, waiting patiently, sitting on the edge of the engawa while exuding serene calm while coolly ignoring her. Sakura envied her stillness and wondered if it was the cultivated calm of years and years of waiting patiently for bad news. The thought made her stomach turn, and suddenly, she didn't envy that composure anymore.

It took a little above half an hour for them to return. Sakura finally stopped pacing and stood still as she saw them turn around the courtyard, waiting for them apprehensively, and was surprised when Mikoto came to stand by her side, smiling a little mysteriously. "What?" Sakura asked her, unable to help herself, surprised to find herself resenting the cold shoulder that she'd been on the receiving end of for a while now.

Mikoto's side-eye was fleeting and amused. "I'm glad that you wait so anxiously for Sasuke-kun. Even a small while back you would have gladly exploited his weakness."

The words were softly spoken and with so much dignity that they made Sakura extremely uncomfortable. Before she could let that fully sink in or cook up a response, Mikoto glanced at her sides, where she'd been clutching a tanto blade in each hand as she'd waited. "I find guns to be more efficient." Sakura was informed quite helpfully.

Initially revolted, Sakura found herself filing the information away. After all, she'd decided to be become an accomplice anyway.

When Sasuke rounded the corner, Sarada left his hand, bounded happily towards her and informed very proudly, "I just had the best dango of my life!"

"You're eight years old. That's a very short life," Sakura said automatically, completely taken aback.

Beside her, Mikoto tinkled out a small laugh.

Sarada shot her a pout. "Almost nine," she corrected.

But Sakura was barely listening. Her eyes were on Sasuke, who looked more troubled and disconcerted than she'd ever seen him. Her heart sank, because if he looked like that, it definitely meant bad news. With a worried frown, she waited for him to stop by and give her a signal, maybe say something to his mother, or just – do anything other than what he actually did – which was: brushing right past her. She was so taken aback and he looked so dazed that she just let him go without a word.

She watched him disappear around the corner of a yuan, then inadvertently felt her gaze meeting Mikoto's, who looked just as perplexed as she felt.

"Mama, did you even listen?" Sarada whined.

"What…?" she asked, slightly zoned out and distracted as she turned back to Sarada, who was pouting angrily at her.

"Nothing," said Sarada, looking slightly hurt as she angrily stomped away.

Mikoto, who'd witnessed the whole thing looked somber as she said, "Go after him. I'll take care of Sarada-chan."

Sakura hesitated a second, worriedly seeing Sarada disappear inside the room, then reluctantly turned and followed Sasuke.

She found him sitting beside the koi pond – a small nook in the garden that she'd come to realize that he regarded as his sanctuary, perhaps. He didn't at all look surprised at her arrival and he didn't say a word as she sat beside him. She observed his nonplussed profile for a few beats before saying, "You should be resting."

He didn't say anything for the longest time, and she let him think, willing to wait because she understood that he was probably parsing his thoughts now. He'd say it when he was ready. It was a surprising revelation to even herself that she was starting to get to know him like that, when really – Mikoto was right – in the past she would have exploited him and taunted him and goaded him to the brink of probable insanity.

As the quiet settled around them, Sakura distracted herself by looking at the koi – how they flitted around in the water, how the nature silently swept around them, and how the breeze was cool and refreshing that day. She was only just beginning to feel slightly calm when Sasuke finally spoke up.

"He was angry at me for protecting you," he told her, looking steely and determined.

She nodded, slightly relieved, because this much, she'd been expecting.

A long, quiet beat passed where he simply stared at her in an unsettled way. "You made a wise choice," he told her, and maybe she looked as confused as she felt because he clarified, looking away once again as if he were ashamed, "About the – the hospital and going back – "

"Right," she cut him off, also looking away and feeling just as, if not more, ashamed of herself. All her self-righteous fury at him felt so pointless now.

A few more moments passed in silence.

"Sarada," he said, and she immediately whipped her head at him. "She," he started, hesitated, and looked deeply troubled. "She told him that she wants to be Hokage."

Sakura swallowed. She wasn't the best at politics, but she did have a vague notion of how bloody and brutal it was in Konoha.

"Oh," she said bleakly, feeling her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. "She never told me that."

Sasuke nodded, and finally looked at her. When their eyes met, she felt a deep sense of understanding settle within her – almost an echo of his own. They both knew what had to happen now. They had to get Sarada out. They needed to make her disappear, and even just the thought of that impossible task opened a hollow pit of dread in Sakura's stomach. But before anything else, she wanted him to know why she'd made the choices that she'd had all those years ago.

"Do you understand now?" she asked quietly, imploringly, willing him to figure out exactly what she was talking about.

Sakura knew that he now understood the cruelty that his clan was bound by, and she took it as an acknowledgement as he swallowed looked away, but not before she could decipher the look of sheer disgust and guilt in his face. It felt like she'd finally come full circle.

They sat beside the pond for a long while after and she silently observed his stiff profile. She traced the contours of his face with her eyes, the penitent slouch of his shoulder, the troubled frown in the middle of his forehead, and the downward curve of his mouth. Abruptly, she felt all the remaining ill will within her heart slew away. Suddenly, all she felt was a terrible sort of sadness for this man covered in tattoos that he might have never even wanted. For the first time, she fully saw him as someone human – someone who was as bound by circumstances as she was.

And it surprised her to no end that all of this didn't feel like a revelation at all. It simply slid into her mind like a fully-formed fact – something that had always been known; as if the last couple of days had been a meandering journey where she'd unknowingly plucked this knowledge and sponged it into her head.

Her heart hurt deeply and profoundly for him, for her, for all that they could have been had life given them a better chance.

Despite all the aches in his body, Sasuke simply could not fall asleep that night. His mind reeled and whirled with the weight of his thoughts, each single one of them weighing him down. There weren't many possibilities but there were too many consequences. He didn't know where to start, or even how to start – betraying the gokudo had never been a part of his life plan. It had been an abstract thought at the back of his mind when he'd sensed how it would effect Sarada. But it had never taken a solid shape. Now, there was just one thought burned into his mind, one thought that spurred him on, one thought that beat a constant rhythm along with his heart: protect Sarada. It was almost animal instinct.

So he sat outside the room, looking at all the nature unfurling in the courtyard yuan, feeling a helpless sort of desperation churn within his gut. Inside the room, the night lamp still shined, which meant that Sakura was awake as well. Her words from earlier were etched inside his head like a jagged shard of glass. As always, she was right. As always, he was wrong. As always, he didn't know what to do. He was feeling so wretched, distraught, and unfocused that he never even noticed when Sarada got out of the room and sat beside him.

When he finally noticed, he did a small double-take, then relaxed. "Sarada," he said, feeling wary at the way that she sat three feet away from him.

And maybe he was right to worry because there was a small frown in the middle of her forehead and her pout unnerved him.

"You're not asleep," he tried, feeling lost, looking back at the room as if his gaze alone would summon Sakura.

She shrugged in response.

"Don't you have school?" he tried again.

"It's the weekend," she snapped at him, and he was taken aback, because Sarada usually didn't talk to him that way.

He must have looked as shocked as he felt, because she immediately softened and scooted a small ways towards him. "I'm sorry," she told him apologetically.

"It's fine," she said, still a little perplexed. "Are you alright?"

When she stayed stubbornly quiet, his heart started to thud in his chest and dread started to loom like a dense cloud over his head. "What's wrong? Is it your stomach?" he asked, as she turned to him with raised brows, each word leaving ashes in his mouth. "Does it hurt again? You should tell your Ma – "

"I'm good," Sarada said, cutting him off and looking more contrite than ever.

"Then – "

"I just feel a little lonely," she said abruptly, looking at him with big, glassy eyes, then looking immediately away.

The thought of her crying made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest, but at the same time, he was more confused than ever. "At school?"

Sarada's head jerked at him, and there was a stubborn little jut to her chin now. "No," she enunciated clearly, eyes dancing a little with emotion. "At home."

"Why?" he asked, completely befuddled now.

"Because," Sarada started, then struggled to put her thoughts into words. "You like Mama now. And Mama likes you."

Oh, thought Sasuke, shoulders immediately deflating. Oh, he thought again, understanding finally dawning on him. Sarada was feeling angry and insecure and maybe a little jealous because she probably thought that now that Mama and Papa were friends, she'd become moot.

A little bewildered but mostly amused, he said, "Silly child," as he put his arm around her and scooted her close to his side. His heart bloomed with intense, unfathomable, unadulterated love – something he'd never even imagined he'd feel in this lifetime – and he swept all his worries for tomorrow in lieu of enjoying this quiet moment today.

"It's not like that," he assured Sarada, who was now burrowing into his side to hide her face away. It stung his half-healed injuries, but he let her do it anyway. Instead, he ran a hand over her head, and let the quiet prevail over them.

"Then what's it like?" she asked after a few moments.

He thought about how to answer her without sounding either too trite or too severe. "Your mother and I –," he started hesitantly, struggling to finish the thought "– tolerate one another now –"

"Like," Sarada insisted vehemently, cutting him off in the middle. "You like her now."

He sighed, unable to deny her, but not willing or ready to say the words yet anyway. "But," he continued, "We would be nothing without you."

Arms loosely wrapped around his middle, Sarada tilted her face up and observed him intently. "Maybe," she acquiesced reluctantly after a while and resumed to snuggle into his side.

He enjoyed the gentleness of the moment, the lushness of the night around them, and the cool breeze that felt like a soothing balm as it flurried past them. The question came to him unbidden, and came out of his mouth even more unthinkingly, "I thought you liked that we were friends now?" There was a teasing lilt to that query that he didn't know where had come from.

Once again, she hid her face in his side. He let her mull over her thoughts and ran a gentle hand on top of her head again. After a while, she pulled out and said, "You're not friends. You like her. Like, a boy likes a girl."

This was the second time Sarada had insisted that, and Sasuke didn't have it in himself to refuse her another time. Besides, she wasn't completely wrong. He contemplated what to say next, but she cut her thoughts right off.

"I like that you like her," said Sarada, grinning a small smile at him, then turning thoughtful and embarrassed as she hid her face in his side again. "I just don't want you to forget me," she continued, voice muffled as she burrowed her face in his yukata.

Sasuke immediately felt a frown mar his face. He felt slightly stricken that she'd think that way. "Did I ever make you feel like that?" he asked, feeling troubled.

When Sarada looked at him again, she appeared uncomfortable. "No," she said, and the relief he felt at that word was infinite. "I just feel scared," she admitted.

"No reason for you to feel that way," he assured her, making his voice as earnest as possible.

"Pinky promise?" she asked, smiling cheekily at him once again.

"Of course," he said, voice coming out just as grave as he felt.

She nodded and snuggled into his side again, arms just a tad tighter around his waist.

They stayed like that until Sarada fell asleep in his arms. He let himself hold her a bit longer until his body started to feel sore. Struggling, he managed to scooch her into his arms and grit his teeth against the lancing pain as he carried her inside. The lamp was still on so he was expecting Sakura to be awake, but she wasn't. Instead, she was sleeping beside his futon in a sitting position, a large medical tome open in her lap.

As he tucked Sarada into the bed and sat beside her to catch his breath, he took a small, private moment to study her. Sakura was leaning on the wall, legs crossed, and arms loose. Her hair was longer now and her countenance was weary. There were dark circles under her eyes and her complexion was pale instead of creamy. Her mouth was slightly open and she looked positively exhausted. Maybe she had been waiting for him. He didn't dare assume. Looking at her in such a tired harrowed state made his heart ache in a painful, twisting way.

She must have closed her eyes for rest and accidentally fallen asleep.

Why did you sleep with me, she'd asked him and he hadn't answered. But after mulling the thought around in his mind, maybe he knew now.

The thing about living on the flip side of good was that it made you feel alive – at least that was what he used to think. When Sasuke had roamed the underground lair under Kasai, he hadn't used to feel small or weak or constrained. But he hadn't exactly felt the rush of being alive either.

But once upon a time, just after his induction, he had felt like he'd finally belonged. The rush had very quickly passed and the only thing he'd felt at the time he'd met Sakura was a weary sort of distress – like he'd wanted to be done with everything and just hit the next chapter of his life – something that would had been exciting, something that would had taken away the monotony, something that would had brought him back to life.

He suspected it was this particular feeling of ennui that had attracted him to Sakura that one fateful night. Her obvious vivaciousness had been electrifying. It had made him want to grab a hold of her, become a part of her – fuck her until he could simply feel some of that vibrancy slip into himself.

He remembered that feeling even now – more than eight years later; pounding into her again and again and again. Desperate. Insatiable. Irreverent. Feeling helplessly animalistic as she took him into herself and held tighter than he could ever imagine.

He'd felt intoxicated - absolutely drunk on her.

He wished he could wipe his memory clean. Start over. Not remember at all. Because right then, he felt nothing but a miserable sort of fatigue.

Not for the first time, he wished he could go back in time and undo his induction. Simply be Sasuke so that he could be with Sakura.

All the despair, misery, and misunderstandings of the past few months felt so futile as he felt his heart give and soften while looking at her. He'd always thought that she'd been a coward for not telling him about Sarada, but now he saw her as infinitely courageous, kind, patient and brave. Today's meeting with Madara had been proof that she'd made the right decision and that he'd been the fool.

For one split second, he let himself imagine kissing her awake, reignite that ember still burning at the core of his chest, then immediately crushed the thought. Instead, he just told himself to be glad that she was a smart and resourceful woman.

Feeling weary, he looked around the room for some inspiration on what to do. He didn't have the heart to wake her up but he didn't want to leave her like that as well.

For long moments he debated with himself, then sighed in resignation as he finally got up. He had a feeling that she'd eat his heart out if she found him carrying her like he'd just carried Sarada, so he compromised by gently taking her head and easing her onto the floor. Then he took a pillow and tucked it under her head. He draped his own blanket over her and went to Itachi's room to grab an extra pair.

Sakura awoke surrounded in the smell of Sasuke, antiseptic, and the sharpness of the floor digging into her side.

She quickly pulled herself up, feeling disoriented.

A swift look around the room told her that Sasuke wasn't around and that Sarada was still asleep.

She rubbed her face and rolled her shoulders to ease the muscles. She felt the tiredness tug her down as she pulled herself up.

Everything around her felt unreal now. Every day she woke up feeling the dread already churning within her. She was going to have to return to KMC. She could tell that her time was up. Madara's summoning of Sasuke had been proof enough.

She sighed, then trudged her way past Sasuke's futon and lurched backward as the door suddenly opened. But it was just Sasuke, who lingered by the door just as awkward as her.

He came inside and they stood face to face in the quietness of the room. Sakura felt like some threshold had been crossed in their relationship now, and there was this vortex of feelings between them that neither of them seemed to know how to maneuver around.

"I'll, uh, take a look at your dressings later," she told him, sidestepping for the bathroom. At the last moment, she turned back, felt herself gentling beyond reason as she said, "Please don't overexert yourself. You need rest."

There was something electric in the air around them as Sakura changed his dressings.

He tried not to dig too deep into anything, but his skin tingled everywhere her fingers touched.

He longed with the urge to kiss her, slow and hot and lingering. He longed to touch her in ways and places that he knew he had no right to. He longed for a life beyond the rengo.

But that's where reality came crashing in. He had no place outside the rengo. Once inducted, only certain death or close was the way out, and the reminder served as a bucket of cold, harsh reality check to keep himself from even accidentally indulging. He knew that she had an inkling as well.

When she was done, she sat back and looked at him. Her expression was grim as their eyes locked. She swallowed, then said, "I have to go back to the hospital soon."

He knew. He'd known for a while. He wished he could stop time. He wished he had the power to help her disappear. He wished for many things that he couldn't possibly have. He nodded, and was too ashamed to look directly at her, so he turned his head to the side.

She surprised him by gently tilting his face with the tip of her finger to look back at her. Her eyes were imploring as she said, "Sarada and I will get out. I promise."

It was with those words echoing in his head that he sought out Itachi that night. Sakura had once told him that she always tried to do the right thing, and now that she couldn't, he'd decided to at least take the first steps in her stead.

Itachi wasn't at all surprised to see him. It was almost as if he'd been expecting Sasuke to come. His face was cool, calm, and composed as he appraised Sasuke, who didn't know what to feel, how to phrase the betrayal he was about to commit. But he knew that if there was anyone in the gokudo who would genuinely advise him right, it would be Itachi. After all, he was the one who had wanted Sasuke to remain in the States before his sakazugito.

And yet, as they sat face to face, Sasuke still couldn't utter the words. It was as if he was trying to break through a life time's worth of brainwashing. You could think about it, you could will yourself to try it, but when it actually came to it, it was impossible to act on it. The gokudo was not just a family tradition – it was a way of life that had been so ingrained into Sasuke that it had literally taken having an innocent child of his own thrust in the middle of it all to break its hold.

Itachi was steady. He didn't pressure Sasuke into anything. He simply waited patiently as he tried to string the words together in his mind. Eventually, Sasuke managed to say three words, but they were all it took for Itachi's face to turn pained.

"I want out," he said, then repeated it once more, feeling liberated. They sounded just as sweet on his tongue as the first time. It was like taking that first painful step on a new prosthetic after your limb had been amputated and there had been no previous hope of living a normal life again.

"Sasuke…" Itachi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know what you're asking, right?"

Sasuke said nothing because he did know what he was asking and he was more than willing to pay the price for it.

"Short of killing the Oyabun, there's no other way," Itachi said bluntly.

But Sasuke was done with that. He'd taken one too many lives already. Sarada had asked him if he was a good person and he hadn't been able to reply. It was one of the greatest shames of his life, so he shook his head at Itachi.

His brother looked bleak and genuinely pained as he said, "You should have never come back, outoto." And Sasuke's mind immediately and for the second time in this day flashed back to the only time he'd had an out, when even Fugaku had never expected anything from him.

The dejection hurt, but as he was about to leave, Itachi said, "You should try to find Kakashi."

That was the only hint Itachi offered, and it gave Sasuke just a small bit of hope.

The day finally came when Sakura had to go back to KMC. Kabuto Yakushi was waiting for her in the attending lounge when she arrived. She expected him to look smug, but he only looked bitter, and Sakura was surprised to see the welt that had faded to a less angry red but would definitely leave a scar on the left side of his face.

She didn't want to feel compassion for him, but here she was, doing exactly what he did, so what did that make her?

There were no preemptions, no preliminaries. He simply thrust a few files into her arms and told her to study them. This time, there was no hiding the fact that there were organs being trafficked out of innocent, unknowing people in this hospital and she was an accomplice to it all.

There were no first day pleasentries. There was no groundwork and no overtures. She silently accompanied him to the patients rooms, kept quiet, kept her distance, and when it came time to go to the OR, she curbed the sickness boiling in the pit of her stomach and reminded herself why she was doing this.

She didn't want to feel as helpless as she'd felt when Sasuke had taken punishment in her stead. She never wanted to feel so defenseless and exposed again.

So she braced herself when she disinfected her hands. She steeled herself as she wore the gown. She hardened her heart as she put on the gloves, and when she finally took her place at the table, she didn't let herself feel anything at all.

However, she did get a kickback in the aftermath. After all, you didn't throw away your humanity out the window every single day, and for someone as self-righteous as Sakura, it felt like her entire world had tilted and shifted beyond recognition.

To anchor herself, she dug out a bottle of sweet sake from under the kitchen cabinet when she got back. It was in a beautiful porcelain long-neck bottle that Mikoto had embellished with her Kintsugi, and Sakura stared at it for a long, long time before taking a huge swig. Mikoto found her like that, half the bottle already gone. She stared at Sakura for a long, hard moment, then sighed. "Is there anything you need?" she asked.

Sakura thought it ironic that she was only now thawing towards her, when she could tell that something big had happened – something that would never allow her to fall back into her previous state of mind again. She sniffed a little as she said, "Can you take care of Sarada today?" Because even as her world was spinning out of control, she still wanted to save face from Sarada. How could she ever look her in the eye after today?

She didn't know, and she didn't wait for Mikoto to verbalize her assent. She simply took her bottle and went to the room. Then she proceeded to get drunk and that's how Sasuke found her – inebriated beyond belief and silently ugly crying into her hands.

He sat quietly by her side and she couldn't help up say, "I did it." The full impact of that hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. "I guess I'm one of you now."

The silence that followed was pained and heavy.

"No," Sasuke told her, eventually "You're not. I hope you'll never be."

She could only look at him wryly through the tears. The silence stretched around them like a heavy shroud and she felt so bereft and hopeless. Sasuke looked at her like she was a broken china doll, and maybe she was, because in that moment, she felt pretty fragile. Maybe he knew that she needed assurances - even fake ones - because he stumbled a little with his next words.

"I – I'm doing everything in my power to get you out. I will get you out," he told her with conviction, and she felt her heart summersault, then crumple in her chest. Her face was wet and she couldn't bring herself to smile because what right did she have to a smile now? The bone-deep consternation felt too much when all she wanted to do was forget. So she did the only thing that made sense at that moment. She braved herself and hesitently put her arms around his neck, not letting herself notice that he immdiately leaned away. She simply closed her eyes and crashed her lips to his. It was a messy kiss. It was a desperate kiss. Perhaps, it wasn't a kiss at all, because his lips were stiff beneath her own and his body was taut with tension, and it didn't feel real, it didn't feel electric, it didn't feel – like it had all those years ago because.. because she wasn't doing it for the right reasons…

She let him peel her off him and was surprised when instead of pushing her away, he actually pulled her into a gentle embrace. It broke all her inhibitions. The sake seemed to make her sway as she clutched at him. She wanted to explain herself to him, but all that came out was, "I want to forget."

His body held surprisingly sturdy against hers, the warmth of him seeping into the cold of her. She held on tighter, feeling like he was the only thing anchoring her to the world anymore. "You can make me forget," she told him, feeling dizzy with the longing for oblivion. "I remember you did that thing with your tongue and it felt so fucking good – "

"No."

He was curt in his rebuttal and it gave her a pause.

"I won't sleep with you."

It should have hurt. It would have hurt had it only been a month or two back. But this time, even through the drunken haze, she could hear the heartbreak in his voice. It left her breathless, with how restrained his earnestness was. It broke down her inhibitions even more when he held her tighter as she quietly started to tremble in his arms.

They stayed like that for a long while until she started to feel sick. The sake festered in her belly, bubbling to come out. He let her go when she pulled away and followed her into the bathroom. He helped her puke and retch as she fell on her knees beside the bowl. He held her hair back, and he brushed his thumb in soothing circles across her back when she leaned her head against the porcelain bowl trying to control her labored breathing.

Afterwards, she simply didn't have the will, or the energy to move a single step. So she flopped onto the floor and lay limp like that. He sat with her, back against the wall, eyes straight ahead.

When she felt like she could speak again, she asked, "How will you get us out?" Because even as hopeless as she felt, even a tiny twinkle at the end of this dark tunnel was more feasible than what she felt now.

"I will," he replied, like it was a fact and not just a passing fancy.

"How?" she asked, wanting to know, not knowing how long she would be able to hold out, and feeling desperate.

He sighed, then stayed silent for a long beat, where she simply assumed that he wouldn't tell her because he never did. But he surprised her by saying, "I'm looking for someone. Hopefully, they can help."

"Who?" she asked into the quietness of the space between them.

But this time, instead of answering, he lay down beside her so that they were face to face. In the back of her mind, she knew that he must be hurting because all his weight was on his injured arm, but he didn't wince, so she didn't coddle.

They looked into each other's eyes for the longest amount of time, the seconds ticking by, the silence expanding, then contracting, and her heart finally calming down again from the thunderous storming sea to gentle waves, as his gaze implored her to be alright, it would be alright, it would. It had to.

She nodded, then traced the contours of his face with her fingers. He let her. The stillness of their surroundings helped her sink into her feelings. It was such a humbling moment as she felt even the slightest morsel of resentment blow away. It was buoying to be free of all the ill will that had been anchoring her to the wrong harbor for such a long time. She sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes, telling herself that things would get better.

"I broke my Hippocratic oath today," she told him quietly, opening her eyes and interlocking their gazes. "I broke my personal rules and I trampled all over my humanity today."

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding poignant and sincere, the downward moue of his lips more prominent than ever.

Her lips trembled again, but she sucked in a breath, and distracted herself tracing the sharpness of his cheek bones. Eventually, she mustered up enough courage to say, "I know you have a lot to be apologetic for, but strangely I don't want you to feel sorry anymore…"

Gazes still locked, she felt the silence stretch around them once more - charged, this time. Almost bordering on electric, brimming with their unspoken, unarticulated feelings.

"Still," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry."

They stared at one another for an infinity.

In the end, as the last dregs of the storm finally churned away, she admitted grimly, "What happened today - for Sarada, I'd do it again."

The truth of those words rang like the echo of a heavy gong between them, but she felt satisfied in the fact that there was no judgment or pity on his face - only acceptance. It was more than she could ever ask for.

Tbc

GOD WHEN WILL THIS BE OVER? WHENNNN?

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