Last time...
--
“But…oh, please, Kakashi? When was the last time we had a drink together?”
“On your twenty-first birthday, three months ago. And it was more than a few drinks. I seem to remember you puking your guts out in the alley when we left the bar.” It was true, and Ino didn’t remember it clearly, that was for sure. All she knew was the she had a damned good time, in spite of the fact that her older cousin was a total drag for the majority of his earthly existence. Or, at least that’s what Ino said. Kakashi liked his life. He was a relatively private person, which was fine with him. All he wanted, especially at the moment, was to be left alone by idiotic blondes.
“No. I’m not going to let you tell me no. Either you come out with me, or you’re going to rue the day you ever met me.”
In a bland tone, he said, “I already do, Ino. I already do.”
Now his cousin was angry. He looked at her, an amused smile on his face, and watched her fume. She sat for long moments, staring at him, finally standing to leave, saying she would be back the next week. Ino also said that he was an asshole who didn’t deserve her kindness. When the door shut, and automatically locked behind her, he couldn’t help but laugh.
--
Chapter 2: Losing Control
--
One year and six months later…
Itachi winced. The pain in his ribs was worse, but it was nothing compared to the searing agony that was his shoulder as he lay there on the floor. Sakura stood over him, smiling. Fast learner, indeed. He had always known that she was a smart girl, and that she was dedicated to any study she decided to undertake, but this…only a month after Sasuke’s funeral, they’d begun training.
The actual martial arts came after three months of intensive two-hour-long sessions of yoga every day of the week. When it actually did begin, Sakura got frustrated easily, but soon learned to use the calm she had gained from the yoga to her advantage. Hence, her rapid learning curve. And hence, Itachi found himself lying on the floor with no less than two cracked ribs (from yesterday’s session) and a possibly dislocated shoulder. He tried to sit up, and gritted his teeth at another jolt of pain. Scratch that. His shoulder was definitely dislocated.
“Jesus, woman…” He finally managed to use his good arm to shove himself into a seated position, his legs splayed out in front of him. She had found that one opening, that one fraction of a second when he was vulnerable. And Sakura had been merciless in taking advantage of it. Sixteen years. Sixteen solid years of classes, practice, meditation, tournaments, trophies and championships. It all amounted to absolutely one thing: jack shit. Sakura finally got down on her knees and looped her arm around his waist to help him up. Sarcastically, he said, “I think the lesson is concluded for this afternoon. Would you mind taking me to the emergency room?”
She sighed a little, but agreed. In a fondly irritated voice, she said, “Go and sit on the couch. I’ll get our shoes and my bag. Do you need anything?” He shook his head, but when she returned, Sakura was carrying a zipper-seal freezer bag full of ice, a dish towel, one roll of ACE bandage, and a large bandana. After turning the bandana into a makeshift sling, she folded the dish towed and wedged it between his arm and ribcage. The bandage was used to immobilize his arm, while she instructed him to hold the ice on himself. Itachi stepped into his flip-flop sandals, and Sakura did the same with her own. “All set, Itachi-sensei?” Was it just the pain making him hear things? Or did she sound like she was mocking him?
Honestly, at this point, it mattered not one bit. The only thing he cared about was getting his shoulder reset, and taking enough painkillers to knock out a horse. After that, he would be happy as a clam. The trip to the hospital was relatively short. Itachi found himself wondering how she got the better of him, two days in a row. He needed time to recuperate, so he turned his head toward her, wincing at the twinge of pain it caused in his shoulder. “Sakura, let’s take a week or so off of our training sessions.”
“Why? You too banged up?” Her smile of amusement almost made him groan. He hated to admit it, but that was exactly what was going on. Correction. He absolutely loathed the fact that he had received bodily injury twice in the same week from a five-foot four-inch tall, twenty-two year old woman who weighed no more than a buck fifteen. He huffed, irritated.
“Sakura, I have broken bones, and I’m not entirely sure that you didn’t rip a couple of my tendons around the deltoid muscle. Besides, you’re a big girl. A couple weeks of self-reflection and practice on your own will be good for you.” And, he wasn’t going to mention that she wouldn’t have him to take out her frustrations on. She gave him a wry look. That glance said it all. He had made her work out and train with sprains, pulled muscles, broken fingers and toes, and now he was wimping out? Her eyes said one thing, loud and clear: you’re kidding, right?
--
The doctor shoved the x-ray sheets up onto the light box mounted on the wall. “Well, Mr. Uchiha…hm…looks like you have another broken rib. That makes three. Now that your shoulder is back in its rightful position, it should heal up pretty quickly. Though there will be some major swelling.” The tall man cocked an eyebrow at Sakura, then looked back at him. “I’m going to write you a prescription for Vikaden, as well as a hefty dosage of ibuprofen, but if I find out that you’ve been doing anything strenuous…anything at all…I’ll have to admit you to the hospital. Understand?”
“Yes, Dr. Morganstern. Whatever you say.”
Sakura piped up, an ill-tempered edge to her voice, “You mean he isn’t just being a pussy?”
Itachi’s eyes narrowed at her, and she shut up. Morganstern looked at her in surprise. “Young lady, I’ll thank you to watch your mouth. There are children in this emergency room.” With a mumbled apology, Sakura took Itachi through the exit protocols, wheelchair and all.
Once they picked up Itachi’s painkillers, he immediately took one, as well as a preemptive dose of ibuprofen to combat the swelling, and twenty minutes later, Sakura had to deal with something that she never had before: a giddy Itachi. Should she leave him alone in his house? With all that stainless steel and pointy edges all over the place? Hell no…he’d fall down and brain himself on the edge of his coffee-table! And so Sakura found herself hustling the man up to her apartment again, and putting him to bed on the sofa.
“But I’m not sleepy, Sakuraaaa.”
“Are you sure about that? Sounds like you are.” She pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Just sleep for a while. I’ll be doing the same, just in my room. Call me if you need anything.” He smiled dopily, making her start in confusion when he gave a little-boy wave good night (you know the one, where they open and close their hand a bunch of times…so cute). Sakura thought that if she never saw Itachi like this again, it would be too soon. The last thing she needed was a twenty-nine-year-old man acting like he was five. Or less.
It was not long before she found herself snuggled into the fluffy down comforter on her queen-sized bed…on the right-hand side. But she couldn’t sleep. The light coming in from the full moon was keeping her awake. That, and the fact that the bed felt so empty. Already, a year and a half. Sasuke had been gone for so long, it seemed. The darkness of a depressed funk started to settle over her.
Not to have anyone get the wrong idea, let us now say that Sakura was nowhere near being suicidal, or even chronically depressed. She was grateful for the support she had from her friends, and from her little brother and cousins. But the person she was most indebted to was Itachi. He was her teacher, and had actually become her friend. The bastard had been tough to get through to, that was for sure. But once she had finally cracked that mile-thick icy shell, he actually talked to her, about real things. Things that were important, and did not involve training. It did not surprise her that the man was interested in so many things, but what did surprise her was that he was so deeply…spiritual.
Uchiha Itachi was a devout Buddhist. She knew that the family practiced, and that Sasuke had been going through a period of disillusionment with all religion in general just before he died. However, it had surprised her beyond words to find Itachi one day upon being ushered into his house to find him chanting, with incense burning, and looking so at peace with the world that it seemed to be the only thing that mattered to him at all. No one in their right mind, upon seeing this, would ever imagine that he was the brains behind all of the money-laundering and number-crunching for an enormous crime family.
So now she lay there, staring up at the lines of light on the ceiling. Sakura found herself wishing for all of the bottles she’d thrown out. Well, not all of them. Just one would do. She’d thrown out all of her alcohol, as per Itachi’s request. He was a big fan of purity. Not only of mind, but body as well. And, since she had delivered herself into his able hands, she was his little bit of clay to mold. Sakura had, in a year and a half, graduated from New York University with the highest honors possible, and learned the equivalent of six years of Aikido. At least that’s what Itachi said. Her current job—working in an antique weapons shop as the resident historian—allowed her much free time, so she could always leave when her boss closed up at two in the afternoon and run home to meet Itachi to train, unless there was something utterly pressing to research.
She was not obsessed. The fact that she had a dartboard on the back of her bedroom door was irrelevant. That there were little caricatures of hoodlums pinned up there, knives sticking out of their faces…had nothing to do with how she looked at everyone in suspicion. Sakura’s throwing knives found their way into the faces of those pretend criminals more and more often lately. She was not obsessed. That she really felt right now that she needed a drink…had maybe a little to do with the fact that this coming Friday was supposed to have been the day she and Sasuke were to be married. But that was beside the point! She was not obsessed.
--
“Hello?”
“Kakashi! My dear, sweet, loving cousin—“
“I’m hanging up, now, Ino.”
“No! Please!? Wait.”
“Hn. What?”
“Tomorrow’s your birthday.”
“Thank you for reminding me. Now can I get back to sleep?”
“Look, asshole, I’m going to be coming to get you at eight o’clock tomorrow night, and we’re going to the pub. I’m going to be your designated driver, and I’ll even pay your bar tab.”
“Hn.”
“What, ‘hn’?”
“It’s already tomorrow.”
“Oh. Happy birthday, then. Get some sleep, Kakashi. I’ll be at your building. Eight sharp. Wear something nice so you can puke all over yourself, okay?”
“I’m really hanging up now, Ino.”
“Good night, and happy birthday, idiot.”
--
“Where are my goddamned glasses?!” Sakura screeched, causing her employer to flinch where he stood. She looked up, sheepish. “Sorry, Mr. Shiranui. But I can’t find my glasses.” Shiranui Genma, a mildly attractive man in his mid-thirties, ran long fingers through his shoulder-length brown hair. An amused smile spread over his face, making him a bit more than a little good-looking. Why was it that her boss had to look cute when he was up to no good? Genma’s dark eyes strayed to the top of her head, and his smile widened. Sakura reached up, feeling the shatter-resistant lenses of her glasses, and sighed in disgust at herself. “Oh, hell.”
“Sakura, you are a brilliant woman. Why can’t you keep track of those things?” He gestured to the spectacles with a toothpick as she replaced them on her nose.
“Sorry. I’m not exactly myself lately.” That was an understatement, really. The fact that she was working on a huge project at the moment, and making no headway at all, was more frustrating than almost everything else. Her current project was creating a database for the hundreds of antique weapons in the shop, including those in the fireproof basement safe. The bell above the shop’s outer door tinkled, and both of them stood and said, “Welcome,” in a respectful tone.
Genma jumped over the counter to greet their guest. It was obvious that these two men knew one another well. The man that had just walked in had beautiful olive skin, marred only by the pale scar that cut across his nose. Eyes that reminded her of chocolate seemed to be smiling, even though he was not. He was not exceedingly tall, but probably a little taller than Itachi. He greeted Genma with a firm handshake, and a smile. It looked a bit forced to Sakura. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she turned back to the computer screen. The two men talked for a few moments, and she tuned them out, in favor of her project. There was one naval dirk from France that she was having a bit of trouble tracking. It was used by its original owner, then that ship had been taken down by pirates…after that it was a bit muddled.
So enveloped in her work that she didn’t hear the men, the only thing that drew Sakura’s attention away from the dirk was a cellophane-wrapped peppermint being bounced off of her forehead. “Oi!” She looked up angrily to see Genma staring pointedly at her, and the other man trying to hold back a smile. “Um…” Sakura stammered, “Sorry?”
“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Her employer chewed for a moment on his toothpick. She nodded mutely, not wanting to piss him off. Sakura had only seen him angry once, but that had been quite enough. He cleared his throat, and gestured to the man next to him. “This is Umino Iruka. He is a member of the police department. He wants to ask you a few questions. Iruka, this is Haruno Sakura. She’s my historian, and I have every confidence that she’ll be able to tell you whatever you need to know.” No pressure.
Frowning, she stood and escorted him to the coffee room. When he had seated himself in a chair, she said, “Coffee? Tea?”
“Thank you. Tea, please. Green, if you have it.” He watched her make the tea. She could feel him watching. A few minutes later, she set a cup and saucer in front of him. Taking a sip, he smiled. “Ah. Thanks again.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr…er…Detective Umino, what is this all about?” She was curious, but she was also a little frightened. Maybe it had something to do with Sasuke?
The detective pulled an envelope out of his satchel. From it, he took a small stack of photographs. “What do you make of this?” Sakura took the photos, and stared in disbelief at what she saw.
“Where…did you find this?” The picture in her hands was of the hand-guard and hilt of a 16th century Spanish rapier, and the thing was absolutely exquisite.
The detective ran his finger over the scar on his nose. “It’s a murder weapon. I was just wondering if it might have been some kind of message. Can’t figure that out unless I know everything possible about the thing.” He looked at her, his eyes settling on her in a way that almost pleaded for help. Any kind of help. “I can’t give you details, but suffice it to say that we don’t have much to go on, other than that sword.” Sakura stared at the photographs that she spread out in front of her. The hand-guard was intricate, and the blade gracefully tapered. It was more a work of art than a weapon.
“Well…I would say that either the killer was extremely wealthy, or they’re a very competent thief. If this thing’s been reported stolen…has it?” Iruka shook his head, and she nodded. Sakura hadn’t really hoped that it might be traced back to its original owner. That would be too lucky. “Okay. I would begin with weapons dealers, if I were you. There are several in this country that deal in pieces that are of this caliber. If you like, I can give you a print-out of their names, addresses, and the types of weapons they deal in. Also, I can give you a list of Canadian dealers and those in the United Kingdom. How’s that for a start in the right direction?” He smiled at her gratefully, and asked if there was anything else. “Well, you might need to contact Barcelona. This thing reeks of royalty to me, and Spain doesn’t take kindly to royal artifacts being illegally sold.”
“Ownership rights can wait until after we have the killer.”
Sakura smiled. This was a very good man. “Is there anything else, detective?”
The man shook his head, and thanked her. “If I need anything else, can I call you?” At her raised eyebrow, he stammered and blushed a bit. “For information about the sword, I mean.”
“Certainly.” Handing him a business card, she said, “That’s got my home number, and my cellular phone number as well.” Gesturing to the pictures, she asked, “Can I keep these? I’ll look into it a bit more and let you know what I find.” Iruka nodded and she escorted him back to the front room where she printed out the five-page list of names, telephone numbers and addresses that she had promised. “Good luck, detective.” With a smile, the man was gone.
“Slick, Sakura. Very slick.” Genma was leaning against the counter next to the printer, chewing on yet another toothpick.
“What?” She asked, annoyed by her boss’s attitude.
“Nothing.” He smiled around his toothpick. Honestly, this man was infuriating. Genma’s smile was rather shameless as he said, “You all but asked the guy on a date and all you can say is ‘what’?” Sakura’s mouth hung open. That was not what just happened. She pulled her pencil out of the messy bun her hair was in and chucked it at him, the eraser hitting him on the cheek. “Hey!”
“Enough out of you! I was not flirting with him. Jesus Christ!”
Genma laughed, disappearing into the back room. Sakura growled to herself. She really, really wanted a drink.
--
It was cold today. Kakashi was glad for his gloves as he rode down the streets on his motorcycle. The days had grown shorter, and the nights longer, and he had been getting more calls from Genma. What was it about winter in New York that made people want to kill each other? Not that he was complaining. That just meant he was one step closer to his goal. More money equaled early retirement. And he wasn’t going to complain about that. No sir.
Having just left his session with Dr. Yuuhi, he was going over to Genma’s shop for his latest contract. Soho was as it always was: chic, hip, and too rich for his blood. Kakashi turned into the alley next to the shop, and walked around to the front door. When he pushed the steel door open, he was surprised to see someone who was definitely not Genma sitting at the counter.
The woman was slender, and had papers lying on the counter in front of her. A pair of reading glasses had slid down her nose, which only drew his attention to the exceedingly bright green of her eyes, and the delicate structure of her face. She wore a dark gray suit jacket over a black t-shirt. Her lower body was not visible. The thing that was most surprising about this woman was that she had hair the color of cotton candy. She pushed that pink hair out of her eyes, and said, “Welcome, sir. How can I assist you?”
He was having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face. They strayed to the nearly translucent skin of her neck, and he wondered what it felt like. What did it taste like? Kakashi shook himself a little to get those thoughts out of his head. Smiling weakly and trying not to let his interest show, he said coolly, “I’m here to speak to Mr. Shiranui. Is he in?” Just then, the door to Genma’s office burst open, revealing the man himself. He didn’t look happy.
“Ah! There you are! Where the hell have you been?” Genma bellowed, causing the woman to cringe, and look at him sympathetically. Before he knew it, he was being roughly grabbed by the front of his leather jacket and hauled into the back office. After slamming the door behind him, Genma let up on the act. “So, how’s your shrink?”
“She’s good.” Kakashi hooked a thumb toward the door. “Who’s that?”
Genma’s smile was less than wholesome. “Nice, eh? She’s my historian. I figure if I play my cards right, she’ll do nicely. If she ever thaws out.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow. Genma said in a rather sullen tone, “She’s an ice bitch. But she’s polite about it. That’s what’s strange. I asked if she wanted to come out with me for dinner last week. She said she had plans, but that she was sorry she couldn’t go. I knew that she was lying.”
“You mean her having plans, or that she was sorry she couldn’t go?” Genma’s eyebrows drew down in a frown, but then he shrugged off the smirking man’s insult. Kakashi gave up on trying to get a rise out of him. “So, what’s my latest?”
Opening a drawer, the man pulled out a photograph. “Archie Baxter. Small-time extortionist, trying to get too close to the Haruno family. He’s been hanging around the youngest, Ishida.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow. Genma smiled. “The kid’s only thirteen, and already he’s bad news. This guy’s only gonna make him worse. So, Baxter’s your man. This one came down from the kid’s mother, directly. She’s looking out for her baby boy.” Kakashi snorted, but took the envelope with all of the pertinent information.
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow night.”
“Why then? Why not tonight?”
“Ino’s taking me out. It’s my birthday. We’ll probably go down to O’Grady’s and I’ll end up puking until early morning.” That made Genma laugh.
“Happy birthday, then. And take care of Baxter as soon as possible.” Nodding, Kakashi stepped out of the office, and walked past the counter, where the woman was looking at some photographs. A look of concentration was etched over her face, and she almost didn’t notice that he had come back to the storefront.
She looked amused as she peered over her glasses at him. “He didn’t bite your head off, did he?”
“Not too badly.”
“That’s a relief,” she said before returning her gaze to the photographs. Kakashi walked out of the door, not wanting to stay any longer. That woman was a little intimidating, and it wasn’t just that she was beautiful. The way she held herself told him that she was not the kind of broad to mess with. It didn’t take long before he nearly rear-ended someone because he couldn’t get that smile and those eyes out of his head. Something seemed familiar about her, as well, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He nearly laughed at himself.
--
Now nine o’clock in the evening, Sakura dragged herself to the shower. Unwinding the wrappings from her hands, she dropped them into the dirty clothes bin, along with her foot wraps and her clothes. Her body ached. She had been working through katas, doing her yoga poses, lifting weights, and finally working with the heavy bag since she had gotten home at three. She was going to be sore tomorrow, but she thought she could live with that. It wasn’t as if she had a manual labor job.
The water felt wonderful. It wasn’t too hot, but wasn’t lukewarm, either. After a lengthy shower, she dried herself and started getting ready to go out. She was going to get that drink, and Itachi didn’t have to know a thing about it. If he did find out, there wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. All he could really do was glare at her disapprovingly.
When she looked into her closet, she frowned. Business clothes and work out stuff. She just wanted something casual. After some digging, she located a brown suede skirt that would fall to mid calf, a dark red long-sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of dark red high heeled shoes. Not too casual, but she wasn’t about to go grungy.
There was a pub not far from her apartment, and she was actually glad that she could walk there. The last thing she did before leaving her apartment was to put on her coat and grab her bag. When she had walked the three blocks to the place, she entered and sat down at the bar. The old bar tender, a man named Pete, leaned over and said, “What’ll it be, doll-face?”
“Scotch. Straight up. And Pete,” she said, leaning over the bar, jabbing a finger at the old man, “if I catch you putting any water in it, I’ll slap you into next Tuesday.”
The old bastard just chuckled and said, “I love it when you threaten me. It makes me fell naughty.” Pete was more than twice her age, and just thinking of him in any situation where the word naughty would apply conjured mental images that would make the most hardened criminal cry. Hard. After a moment, he poured her drink, and set it down on the bar in front of her. Staring down into the glass, she looked at her reflection. Over a year since she had a drink. The last time had been here, as well. But she wasn’t alone. “Heya, sweetheart,” Pete’s gnarled hand squeezed hers. His voice was kindly. She knew what he was going to say. “I’m real sorry about your boyfriend.”
“Thanks, Pete.” The man walked away to help one of the other customers, knowing that she wanted to be alone.
--
Kakashi walked back up to the bar to get another pitcher of beer. Ino was paying, so he was drinking the good stuff. “Pete,” he said in a quiet voice that somehow got the man’s attention anyway, “could I get another pitcher of Guinness?” The man nodded. It would take a few minutes to pour the pitcher, so the silvery-haired man sat on one of the empty stools, and took up a book of matches. For some reason, when he drank, he found it amusing to light matches while they were still attached to the book. It was easier than it looked. And somehow, it got easier and more amusing the more he had to drink. The only trick was, he had to try not to burn the hell out of himself.
The pub wasn’t very busy. It was only Wednesday, and that tended to be one of their slower nights. Other than Ino and himself, there were five other people here. Two old guys who seemed to live in the back corner booth, one guy hitting on an obviously uninterested brunette, and…Kakashi blinked, almost burning himself on one of his matches. The knockout from Genma’s shop was sitting there at the end of the bar, glaring at a glass of Scotch as if it had offended her.
What was the saying about men when they got drunk? Oh, yes. Ten feet tall, and bulletproof. That must have been the only explanation why he slid off of his stool and approached her. She looked absolutely…beautiful…in spite of the way she was staring at her liquor. The stool next to her was empty, so he sat on her right, and leaned on the bar, looking not at her, but the bottles of whiskey and vodka that were behind the bar. “Hello again, Miss.”
They looked at each other for a long moment, her green eyes meeting his mismatched (dark blue, and reddish brown) ones. “Oh, hello.” Her voice came out rather scratchy, as if she were trying not to cry.
Kakashi smiled widely to distract her from whatever it was that caused the woman to be so choked up. “If you don’t mind my asking, I was wondering if I could introduce myself. My name’s Kakashi. I’ve done a bit of business with Genma, and since I’m in and out of there pretty regularly, I didn’t want to not know your name.” He stuck out his hand, and she looked at it for a moment, seeming dazed.
The woman smiled weakly, and shook his hand. “Sakura. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m working on a couple of pretty in-depth research projects, so I space out pretty easily.” Her slender hand waved in the air, gesturing at nothing, as if to emphasize her point. She sipped her drink, and he noticed that she was gripping it pretty tightly.
He wondered what it was that was wrong. She seemed pretty upset, but Kakashi wasn’t one to pry into other people’s problems. The way he saw it, if he did that, then it would catch up to him. Karma’s a bitch, so to speak. He smiled again, making a dismissive wave with his hand. “It’s no problem. Genma was a little pissy. You should see him when he gets drunk. He’s pretty mean. Either that or he sucks his thumb.”
That drew a genuine smile and a short laugh from her. Then, Kakashi thought he was getting the ‘go away’ vibe. Rather than ignoring it like most men would, he decided to take the hint. “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ll see you around, Sakura.” He collected his pitcher, and went to sit back down with Ino.
“Kakashi, who is that woman?” She asked, staring across the room at where Sakura sat.
“No ideas, now. I don’t think she swings that way.” The way Ino was looking at Sakura made it quite clear that she thought he might not have succeeded in picking her up, and it might have been because Sakura wasn’t into men.
“Oh, what makes you say that?”
“Trust me, darling. She’s straight. I have instincts about these things. Anyway, a friend of mine is her boss. She’s an historian, specializing in military history.” Ino nodded, seeming rather disappointed. She was pouting, in fact. He smiled.
--
It was midnight when she left the pub. She’d had far too much to drink, but Sakura wasn’t about to take a cab to go three blocks. So, she decided that she’d stumble back home all by herself.
Ten feet tall. Maybe bulletproof.
At this very moment, she was busy trying to dislodge her overcoat from the door, where it was stuck. The brown wool was wedged in pretty tightly, and the option of re-opening the door never really occurred to her, so she just kept tugging on it, and giggling at her own ineptitude.
So absorbed in this was she that she didn’t notice someone opening the door, and yanked one last time just as they did. Sakura jerked back hard on the coat, and as the door opened, her momentum caused herself to stumble, then to fall to her backside on the cold, hard cement. “Ow…” she said, and tried without success to pick herself up.
A hand appeared in front of her face. “Need some help?” When her eyes followed the line of the hand up to an arm, it then led her to a face.
“Kakashi?” She asked, rather slurred, so that it came out more like, “’Kashi?”
He snorted, and pulled her up to her feet. “Come on. I’ll get you a cab.” She shook him off violently, and he said defensively, “Hey, now! I just wanted to do you a favor!”
Sighing, she leaned on him and gave him a hug to make him feel better. “I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings, ‘Kashi. But I don’t need a cab. Only live three blocks away.” This was said as she waved a hand in the general direction of her apartment. With that, Sakura turned and marched defiantly in the direction of her apartment building. There was murmuring behind her, and then fast footsteps, after which Kakashi was walking next to her.
“I’ll walk you home, then.”
She turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “You saying I can’t take care of myself?”
His eyes widened, and he held his hands up in his own defense, yet again. “No. I’m doing it to make myself feel better.” Huh? She was confused. Why would it make him feel better? Then, he answered her unasked question in a rather sly tone. “I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.” As annoyed as she was from him thinking she couldn’t handle her own shit, she was a little flattered. No one had said anything like that to her for some time.
Sakura mulled over the events of the day, and decided that it had to be the alcohol making her think this way. The man who walked along beside her was rather attractive, in spite of his graying hair. Who was she kidding? Graying? It was all the way there. But it didn’t look bad on him. It just sort of stuck out at strange angles, giving the appearance that he’d just fallen out of bed. For all she knew, his hair just grew that way. He wasn’t the first person she’d thought that about. Sasuke’s hair had stuck up in the back, no matter what he did. After a while, he just gave up trying to make it do anything other than what it had wanted to.
Thinking about Sasuke was always a dangerous prospect. At the moment, Sakura was running the hazard of being depressed. If that happened, she would turn right around and go back to the pub, and someone would have to pour her into a cab to go the three blocks back home. So how did one avoid sinking into the depths of a depression so dark that they wouldn’t be able to climb out of the bottle? “’Kashi?”
“Hm?”
“Want some tea?”
--
Tea. Hadn’t she said something about tea? No one was saying anything at the moment. Sakura was too busy molesting his mouth with hers while trying to unlock her door. Kakashi had a few too many beers, he knew, but if this was an alcohol-induced hallucination, it was the cruelest one yet. Being delusional about this sort of thing was a very bad sign. The door opened and she shoved him inside, shut the door, and pressed him against the back of it. She had not bothered to turn on the lights, so he couldn’t see a damned thing.
When she stopped kissing him, he panted, breathless. He felt her hands grip his shirt, tugging him forward. It was a minute or so before she released him, but he only found himself pushed roughly onto something soft but firm. A bed. Kakashi’s eyes went wide when her hands started pulling his clothes off. “Sakura…” he began to protest, but was stopped by the feeling of warm hands sliding over the skin of his chest and stomach. “Aaaaah. Wait…what are you—“
“Shut up,” she growled next to his ear, her hands working at his belt buckle. It was at that moment when his inner demon woke. Kakashi gripped her wrists and flipped their positions, so that he was above her.
“Now, that’s much better.” His need to be in control, and ensure that he would be able to determine the outcome of any situation had gotten the better of him. Sakura stared up at him, her eyes wide. He had a strong feeling of déjà vu, which he did not understand. The feeling passed as quickly as it had appeared, and he leaned down to kiss her. There were a lot of things that were strange, or even wrong about Kakashi. He would be the first to admit that. He had control issues (or, if you took his shrink’s point of view, an obsession with control), was pretty paranoid, and he killed people for a living. But he could appreciate a beautiful woman when he saw one. And Sakura was very, very beautiful.
After he pulled away from her, he watched her face for a long moment. “What?” She asked, furrowing her brow. Reaching out with one hand, he smoothed the frown on her forehead.
“You’re very beautiful, Sakura.” He didn’t know why he said that. Certainly, she knew she was beautiful. Surely she understood what the looks men gave her meant. It was obvious. But it had just come out. A smile formed on her face, transforming it into a vision of what—if he believed in such things—he thought Heaven might look like.
--
It was too fucking bright in the room. Sakura groaned. Pulling the pillow from under her head, she covered her face. “Ugh.” Wait. Bright? Throwing the pillow, she looked at the alarm-clock. “Shit!” she yelled to no one in particular. “I’m late!” Then, she felt the bed stirring, and when she looked to the left side of the bed, she found something that made her heart drop into her toes.
Kakashi, the man from the day before, was just waking up to her outburst. “Oh, goddamnit,” she groaned, running her fingers through her hair anxiously, and then looking down at herself. Sakura was most decidedly naked. Under the covers, Kakashi was probably in the same state.
--
When she yelled, he woke up, and turned over. Now, she was growling to herself, apparently not sure what had happened the night before. Well, put two consenting adults in a bed, and if they’re naked…he figured she could fill in the blanks. Kakashi opened his eyes, and nearly pissed himself. He now realized why it was that this woman, Sakura, seemed so very familiar. It was the room that brought the memory back, really. The position of the window, the bed, the other furniture…
This was Haruno Sakura. She was same woman who he had dosed with chloroform more than a year ago after sticking a knife into her fiancé’s neck. He couldn’t breathe. It was all coming back. And it was all crashing down on him. The one loose end he’d left. It was her. Scrabbling across the bed in what could only be described as raw panic, he ran to the bathroom, emptying his stomach of what little still remained in it. Now, he was tempted to believe in God. Believe in him, and think that the bastard hated his guts. That was fine by Kakashi, because right now, he hated that bastard, too. As he sat slumped over the toilet, hands gripping the white porcelain, he hyperventilated.
Sure, he was a murderer for hire. That didn’t mean he had no morals. Sleeping with the woman had been a mistake, but it went well beyond the normal one-night stand sort of mistake. This was just sick. Another fit of nausea overcame him, but there was nothing left in his stomach. Kakashi just let it pass. Then, he rinsed his mouth thoroughly, and poked his head out of the bathroom door. Sakura was still sitting there, staring off into space. “You okay?” He asked as he walked out.
“I’m fine. Just a little hangover, and I’m probably not going to work today. That’s all. You?” She seemed as if she were saying these things to have something to occupy her mind other than the possibility of having slept with a man she had met only a day earlier. And she was looking anywhere but at him.
“I’m okay.” He lied, and started to collect his clothing, trying not to look at her either. This was the worst morning of his life. And later, he got to go and do another job for her parents. Yippee. Suddenly, and not for the first time, he wondered if she knew that her parents had been the ones to put a hit on her boyfriend. It took only about two nanoseconds to decide that Archie Baxter would be the last hit he every pulled for the Haruno family.
The telephone rang, and she reached for it. “Hello?” He was almost grateful. It gave him time to think, and to dress himself. “No, Mr. Shiranui. I’m not coming in today. Could you send those photographs of the sword over by bike messenger? I wanted to do some internet research at home. And if Detective Umino calls, just tell him that he can contact me here.” Kakashi nearly fell over while trying to hop into his pants. Fuck. What was that little prick Umino doing snooping around Genma’s? He was Genma’s friend, but what did he want Sakura for?
Sakura’s irritated sigh pulled him out of his thoughts. “Mr. Shiranui—Genma, please. I have a hangover. I’m going to hang up now. I will. Thank you.” With that, she replaced the receiver in its cradle. Then, she turned to Kakashi, adjusting the sheet she’d pulled up over herself. “I feel really stupid. I know that I probably slept with you. Am I right?” A nod from Kakashi. “Well…shit. Kind of messes up any professional relations we might have, now, doesn’t it?” Kakashi’s frown began to tug at the corners of his mouth, moving in a downward slide.
“Don’t worry about that right now, okay? What’s done is done. We can’t control the past.” Did he actually just say that? Though he was pretty much just repeating Kurenai’s own words that had been directed at him, he didn’t much care. That mantra she taught him worked. “Just think about this. Someone once told me, when I feel like things are out of control, I can recite this little thing to myself. Want to hear it?” Sakura blinked at him, a little confused, but nodded. “God give me the ability to change those things I can, the strength to bear those that I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Sakura’s smile was sad. “You sound like a grief councilor.”
He snorted a little. “I learned that from my shrink. So, I guess that fits.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll see you later, Sakura. Get some rest.” His own tenderness surprised him, but he felt like she needed comfort, so he gave it to her. Though, he was sure that it wasn’t only for her. It was hell, dealing with loose ends, but more so when they appeared in the form of exceptionally beautiful women.
When he moved into the living room, he looked around, not recognizing the place. The greater part of the area had been converted into a workout area, and apparently, a dojo. Padding on the floor, as well as weapons and punching bags told of some form of martial arts training. His original impression of her in the shop had been correct, it seemed. If he made her angry, she would probably beat the stuffing out of him.
Instead of heading straight home, he decided that he would go to Soho. Genma needed a beating. If he was going to hire someone, why did it have to be her? And why didn’t he tell Kakashi? These were the questions that went through his mind as he took a cab to The Rusty Dagger. He rolled his eyes at the name. Just like Genma to think up a name like that. Sounded like a goddamned biker bar. As he sat in the back of the taxi, he smiled to himself. The man would apologize. Then, he would tell him everything he knew about Haruno Sakura.
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A/N: Yeah. Kakashi's ticked off beyond all reason. Oh, well, not that bad. That's Genma in the next chapter... Speakign of which...
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Sneak peek at chapter 3, "Downward Spiral" (and these are in no particular order):
It took less than a minute and thirty seconds (during which Sakura stood frozen to the spot, still holding the teacups) for the tall, dark haired man to stalk back into the kitchen. Sakura winced. “Haruno Sakura.” There was a very dark tone to his voice, and he seemed to have sobered considerably. “Your bed smells suspiciously like alcohol.” After a short pause, during which he steadied himself, he said, “And sex.”
“And?”
....
She was wearing a light blue t-shirt and a pair black house-pants, slung low on her slender hips, as well as (to his everlasting delight) a set of fluffy white bunny slippers. Iruka spoke up, next to him. “We apologize for interrupting, Miss Haruno.”
Naruto looked embarrassed, but smiled in spite of it when he looked at her feet. “Yeah. And I’m really sorry about the door.”
...
“Sakura, what are you doing here?”
Huffing loudly, she crossed her arms over her chest. “You…you’re being a coward.”
He might have been a little hazy from the drugs, still. Itachi wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
Sakura repeated herself, enunciating her words carefully. “You are being a coward, Itachi. Don’t run away from me like that.”
...
hope you like all that stuff.
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Chapter notes: Hey, guys. I finally got this chapter finished in editing! I hope you like it. If you have any questions, lemme know.
Warnings:
FL--Foul language...Sakura's got a very dirty mouth...
L--Well, it isn't a lemon, but I figure since it nearly gets there, I ought to mention that sex is somewhere in there.
Legal Stuffiness: I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters therein. Kishimoto Masashi, sole proprietor, and he owns my soul.