Sasuke and Neji have become much too good at getting what they want.

Takes place during Shippuuden.

Warnings: AU, very likely OOC personalities, homosexual or homoerotic situations, violence, possible blood and gore, probable slow updates, offensive language (cursing and name-calling).

Disclaimer: Naruto and all its characters belong to its creator, whose name I'm too lazy to look up. This writing and plot belong to me.


Sasuke stares. The bundle at his feet twitches, but with the double effects of a well-managed sharingan and a few aptly-placed seals, the body inside the canvas bag can do little more than stir impotently.

"It's been a while," he says finally, experimenting.

The bag freezes, then shifts slowly, not replying. The corners of Sasuke's mouth dimple as his lips thin tautly. His eyes suddenly flash up to the other cloaked figures in the room, throbbing red.


They vanish swiftly, like frightened wraiths, until Sasuke is alone with the now weakly-struggling body. He frowns down at it, brows growing increasingly closer to each other in frustration as the silence drags on, until finally he takes a fistful of the canvas in his hand and rips it back down to the chest of the body inside, the sundered seals crackling.

-A pause.

"...-You... Where. Where is she." It's ferocious, that tone of voice, vicious, and the rumpled body staring up at him knows at once it's not a question- it is a demand.

"If you mean Sakura Haruno, not here, clearly."

Fingers twist into long, loose twines of soft dark brown hair and rip. A few strands come away in his clutched fist, but his captive offers nothing but a slight flinch of one ghostly eye, lips stubbornly pursed. Sasuke growls and his sharingan flares to life in a fireworks display of violent reds and racing blacks in the dark night sky of his eyes.

"Where," and this time his tone implies that any fucking around will earn the crumpled form on the floor an unhealthy dose of chidori in sensitive areas.

"On her way back to Konoha, I imagine, if not there already."

The cold black tomoe swirl in the wild fire of his sharingan- but then there is a pause in that fury- a thoughtful, dangerous pause that makes his captive stir in alarm for the first time. Sasuke's taut fist relaxes, and even as the ripped-out strands are drifting to the floor, his fingers are sliding back into that thick head of soft hair, tipping back the head as he steps closer, until those big eyes stare apathetically up at his cooly-narrowed calculating black from a craned white throat.

"Your house has a medic-nin, does it not? And would you, who watch her so closely, not then have observed her methods for yourself..? Perhaps this was not such a loss, after all..."

"...You're asking me to be your medic-nin?"

The curl of Sasuke Uchiha's lips is like a scythe.

"I'm not asking."

The remaining exchange between the captive and captor is little more than a one-sided altercation, the latter being already firmly decided on the matter and former having neither the position nor currently the power to oppose him. Sasuke sweeps from the room in worryingly high spirits, and Neji Hyuuga watches him leave with increasing frustration and unease.