Chapter Text
The girl Obito and Saye brought back is dark-haired and bright-eyed despite the numerous scars and scabs all over her body. Shisui tries not to wince when Saye peels off a particularly dirty and crisp bandage from the girl's arm, her own fingers glowing green with chakra.
Medical chakra, he soon realizes on closer inspection.
They haven't bathed the child yet, not wanting to irritate her wounds. Saye has set it on herself to sterilize and close off any open injury before they move to wash her, and Shisui wonders how she can bear that stench curdling off the girl's body. Although he's had his own fair share of missions that entail sewers and the like, he still winces away at the gritty and gruesome smell the girl is emitting.
“You can leave for a while if you want, you know,” a hand claps over his shoulder, and he glances at the older man that has materialized out of air. Obito. Smoke permeates his body, and there's a fine dust of ash lining his shoulders. He’d been the one to set Orochimaru’s lab on fire from the inside. Obito smiles at him knowingly. “You could leave for a while, take a walk, and talk to some of the locals here.”
Shisui scoffs at him. “The two of you,” he nods at the oblivious Saye, “have been making eyes at each other ever since you came back from wherever the hell you were. Why's that?”
Saye is humming, dense to the conversation happening just a few feet away from her. She smiles at her patient kindly, her touch motherly and tender as she tends to the open scabs and heals them swiftly, clearly not wanting to cause any more pain than she should. Her green chakra reminds Shisui of when Sakura used to heal him after he and Itachi had gotten carried away with their spars. He frowns. Would it feel the same?
“Well,” Obito says slowly, and damn does Shisui hate the casualness in his demeanor, “we just kind of figured things out.”
“Figured things out?” he echoes. “You mean, her word puzzles and everything? Obito,” and there's exasperation in his tone, “don't tell me you're actually indulging her just because you find her pretty.”
“So you do find her pretty,” Obito quips.
Shisui smacks him away.
On burning Orochimaru’s hateful laboratory, Saye fueled the fire with gasoline that she had stored in her pocket scroll. Shisui had protested against it, wary of causing a wildfire in the forest, but Obito only looked on and shrugged. Damned bastard. It was only because of Shisui’s insane flame control that the whole forest didn't burn down, and even then, the grass still blackened. The torn book Obito had salvaged from the office sits peacefully in the bottom of Shisui’s pack, all wrapped up for Itachi to browse when they get home.
Currently, they are at the town of Kantaku resting for the night. It's a small place, but very quaint and lively, and the inn they've rented out is acceptable and clean. A bit cramped for the four of them perhaps, but space is space and Shisui is used to sleeping in more unconventional places— like a tree or a roof. He claims one corner as his one, laying his futon down neatly and plopping cross-legged on it. From there, he surveys the scene before him.
Obito is helping Saye with her own futon so it seems, having taken the initiative to organize her things and place it in the farthest corner to grant her her privacy as she coos and continues to tend to the child in her care. The man's own things are already neatly set in another corner, but his bed hasn't been laid yet. Is he planning on taking the first watch? Shisui wonders. Or, he narrows his eyes, is he simply putting the woman's needs before his?
“I'll go get dinner,” Obito calls when he's finished fluffing the pillow Saye will use for the night. He pats down her blanket to smooth its wrinkles down. “Do you want dango to go with it, Saye?”
Shisui’s eyebrows furrow even more. There's no mistaking that familiarity in Obito’s tone.
Oh? he thinks sarcastically. Now suddenly Obito knows that the woman likes dango?
Strange.
“Bring two plates if you can, please,” Saye responds.
“Too much sweets before bed will rot your teeth,” Obito tells her flatly.
“Well,” and she begins wiping down the girl's body with a warm towel, “that's never stopped you before, has it?”
There their word games go again. Shisui scowls. Clearly he's the only one out of the loop. The knowing glances and teasing gazes Obito and Saye throw at each other whenever his frustration at them becomes evident irritates him. What? What is it that he doesn't know?
“You're angry,” Saye observes as she tucks the girl into bed. Shisui forces himself not to look at her; at the milky expanse of her toned thighs that subtly flex when she kneels, at the intricate tattoo on her right bicep, at the way her bottom hair curls inward at the base of her neck, the rest of her tresses aired up into a bun. He doesn't look. Can't bring himself to look. A man can only restrain himself for a short while after all. Straining against his thoughts, he brings himself to think of blue skies and white clouds and yellow wildflowers…
“Uchiha?”
“What?” he grounds out.
She's staring at him now, arms folded across her chest and head tilted in question. “I asked,” and she punctuates every word slowly as if talking to someone who cannot understand simple words, “if you'd like to take the bath first.”
Huh.
Should he?
“Or,” her eyes glimmer with mischief, “we could bathe together.”
Bad idea.
His rationality screams at him to distance himself from this siren, but his bodily instinct is wild, opening his mouth and forcing him to speak of an answer he'd never even thought to say—
“Is it valid?”
She blinks at him. “Sorry?”
“Your invitation,” he repeats. “Is it valid?”
Incredulous, she gapes at him. “You're… You're actually considering it?”
Humming, he rises to his full height and stretches his back like a languid cat. He's taller than her, Saye barely brushing the top of his shoulder, and she has to crane her neck to look at him. It gives him a sense of superiority, he supposes, and the height difference has him amused. Saye takes a step back, and wanting to tease her in retaliation for keeping secrets from him but not from Obito, Shisui also takes a step forward.
“Why, where are you going?” he questions when Saye turns away from him and digs through her pack, no doubt to just escape from the brewing tension. “I thought we were taking a bath together.”
“That was a joke,” she shoots back; and pulls out a towel. “So no.”
“Really?” Quietly, Shisui saunters to him and leans down to blow at the base of her neck. His eyes light up in amusement on seeing the fine hairs on her skin stand up. “You don't want to?”
At his provocations, she's gone stiff, and Shisui almost laughs at the way her head turns to the side, eyes darting to the door calculatingly. Her shoulders are tense, her mind clearly gearing on to decide whether to flee or not, and he is content to sit back and watch her unease. In the background, he hears her child patient snores softly.
His lips twitch into a smirk.
“But really, I don't mind sharing the bath with you.”
Despite the playfulness in it, he means every word. Certainly, Shisui still finds her presence suspicious, her affiliation with Danzo already a mental alarm for him, but there is something about her that he can't deny. An allure of some sort. Most of the time, all he wants from a woman is sex and a brief sense of euphoria to please himself long enough to get distracted from the world; it is why he doesn't like keeping his liaisons long— to prevent issues from breaking out. Women are jealous creatures after all, and Shisui doesn't like dipping his toes where their jealousy is concerned. However with Saye, it is vastly different; the lithe kunoichi carries a certain kind of charm, and his hormonal instincts crave to please her.
Not himself, but her.
But will she be adverse to it?
Well, with her strength, she can surely break his bones if he were to anger her, and the thought of it thrills him.
“I'm not a toy to fuck around with, Uchiha,” Saye responds at last, and Shisui detects a hint of hurt underneath the firm statement. “Pick another woman.”
Ah.
So she knows about his reputation then.
“Is that why you favor Obito more than me?” he asks quietly, all playfulness dissipated. “Because I'm a manwhore and he's not?”
Her head snaps up to him, “What?”
“I won't be angry if that's it, Saye,” he runs a hand through his curls, a bit agitatedly. He’s observed her unusual opposition to him, however small it may be; and it puzzles him why. Is she only reciprocating his subtle distaste of her association to Danzo, or is it of her own accord? Shisui looks at her pointedly. “But at least tell me what I did to warrant your dislike.”
“You…” Her mouth is slightly open, her pretty features flabbergasted by his claim. Shisui watches a flurry of emotions flash through her face— disbelief, wonder, and bemusement. “Whoever said that I disliked you? If anything,” she jabs a finger at him for emphasis, “I thought that you hated me.”
“I do,” he nods sagely, and she throws her towel at him for his shamelessness. “And that's because you were ROOT, and I have a grudge against that damn organization. Now that you know my side, I want to know yours.” Black eyes hit cobalt. “Why do you dislike me?”
“I don't dislike you!” she protests instantly. Honesty rings clear and bright in her vehement denial, and she meets his gaze almost pleadingly, her hands taking his and clasping it warmly. Her thumb lightly caresses the curve between own thumb and index finger. The size difference of their limbs is evident, and Shisui watches on as she proceeds to interlock their fingers together.
He doesn't stop her; having noticed that she prefers expressing herself with words and actions.
“Come now, Shisui,” she murmurs, and the genuineness in her voice has him turning away bashedly, “how can anyone ever hate you?”
It is only then that he realizes that she has addressed him by his name for the first time.
“So you don't?”
“No,” she breathes out a laugh, “why on earth should I dislike you? Your sins, your secrets, your destructive habits— they are not mine to judge.” Her lips curve into a wry smile. “We’re shinobi. We try to find ways to cope. Just like you, I have my ways to cope. You just chose the most generic one of them all.”
He has to huff out a chortle at her quaint words. “You mean ‘sex’?”
“Vulgar,” her nose crinkles in distaste. “But yes, Shisui, I meant ‘sex’.”
Consideringly, he squeezes her hand. “And you don't judge me for it?”
“You're a kind person, Shisui.” And Saye begins untangling their fingers, only to halt when Shisui threads them back. Shrugging, she looks into his eyes again, nothing but pure honesty reflecting in her gaze. “You haven't changed much from your boyhood.”
From his boyhood?
He stops at the insinuation.
“Did you know me?” Shisui queries, locking in on the newly opened topic. “Did we know each other, Saye?”
When Saye doesn't respond, he doesn't press it any further. Cobalt flashes emerald, and this time he catches the fleeting change, his own eyes minutely widening in surprise. He vaguely remembers Kakashi’s signature advice: look what is underneath the underneath. Is it applicable in this situation? Thoughtfully, Shisui weighs his chances.
Then her nose scrunches at him once more.
“You stink.”
He glares at her. “You do too.”
“I know,” she untangles their fingers, “So I’m taking the bath first.”
“Huh.” He tosses her her towel from where it lays. “You don’t want to bath together anymore? I could scrub your back,” he suggests, and it is with playful anticipation that he says it. The considering tilt of Saye’s head indicates that she is actually humoring the idea against her better judgment. Shisui covers a smirk and pushes, “I could also wash your hair, let you relax.”
Saye hums. “No strings attached?”
The hidden meaning behind her question is transparent to his ears.
With a shrug, Shisui raises his hands in a placating motion.
“I won’t do anything you wouldn't want me to,” he says, and Saye’s shoulders visibly relax much to his amusement. “Sages, Saye, do you take me for a barbarian?”
And Saye sends him a sly smile— just a slight lilt of her lips dripping with something Shisui can’t name.
“If you are a barbarian, then you might just be the most handsome barbarian I’ve ever met.”
The flush that steams up his ears has Saye laughing, entertained; the sound of her laughter echoing brightly in the room. A gleam of teeth shines through when she smiles, and Shisui is once more struck by the thought that she is, indeed, a pretty woman. When she turns back to him, there is affection in her deep blue gaze, and he just freezes.
So far, all the women he’s been with were only after three things: his name and reputation, money, or just pure sex and fun. No affection has been lost in any of his liaisons.
But here is Saye, who wants nothing from him, watching him with subdued adoration.
Shisui honestly doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Come on now, barbarian,” she sings teasingly, savoring the pet name. “You still have to scrub my back.”
~~~~
It is a new experience, she supposes, as she lazes inside the tub with the water up her neck. Shisui is behind her, dutifully rubbing shampoo into her hair and massaging her scalp with calloused but gentle fingers, and Sakura just sighs into the sensation.
Perhaps leaving their shared room to a sleeping child is a bad choice, but the kunoichi is confident in her fuinjutsu seals and she's locked up the area with security seals that will alert her if there's an intruder breaking in. The seals are shrouded with a mechanism— a trap that can teleport an army into an infinite space that has no exit. The darkness will drive one into insanity, and they cannot leave until Sakura releases them. It's something she created out of paranoia, and Sai had been the unfortunate soul to test it out.
The bluish tint to the man's pale skin and the tremble that only went away after several weeks had passed was evidence enough that her project was a success.
The inn’s bathroom is small, the toilet and bath separated by a curtain which has ducks printed into it, she notes amusedly. She is careful not to let much water spill into the floor in consideration to Shisui’s pants, since the man has insisted on kneeling on the floor instead of using the small stool as he tends to her. Shivers pass through her with every accidental touch to her bare skin, the hints of attraction coiling deep in her stomach, evident to no one but her. Obito’s already warned her of this— of the blatant lustful yearning she might feel for any of her soulmates, Shisui included. “It’s part of the bonding process,” the older Uchiha had said. “Although,” he had added quite amusedly, “with how bullheaded Shisui is, I don’t think he’s read any information that concerns soulbonds within our clan.”
But Shisui, as far as their interactions have gone, gravitates naturally to her, despite the mocking quips they've thrown at each other.
His hands move to her shoulders, and she stiffens for a moment before hearing Shisui’s chuckle. Sakura glares at him and swats some water at him. Some of the droplets hit his cheek, and he reaches over to flick her nose lightly.
“Relax,” Shisui rolls his eyes. “Like I said, I won’t do anything you wouldn't want me to.”
But the tension in her gut is quickly unraveling, and she can only let out a muffled noise in retort.
As his deft and firm hands begin to knead out the knots that have formed in the muscles of her shoulders, a satisfied moan falls out from her lips. Her eyelids slip shut, and she leans to his touch, lolling her head back and exposing the delicate expanse of her neck. She doesn’t notice her companion’s pupils dilating and darkening to near onyx when she involuntarily releases another moan. How could she not? With all the stress she’s accumulated, the ongoing conspiracy in her faction, and the impending trouble by the horizon, she’s completely neglected the state of her body, brushing off the telltale signs of the tautness of her muscles and joints.
“Shisui,” she says breathlessly when he hits another knot, “that feels so good.”
There is no flattery in her statement, only truth. She can almost feel the heat inside her subsiding to a dull ache as another knot is coaxed to relax, groaning in pure bliss as her body becomes pliant underneath his care. “More,” she requests unashamedly, pleadingly. “More, Shisui.”
The way his hands halt at their movements at her plea is almost diabolical, and her eyes fly open in indignation, only to meet smoldering embers gazing back at her.
It then dawns to her that her verbal appreciation has sounded as wanton and needy; and a deep blush overcomes her pale cheeks.
“Vixen,” Shisui growls at her, and Sakura swallows, ducking her head in shame. “Are you doing this on purpose?”
“No,” she denies almost instantly, panic rising. Well, shit, what if he thinks that she's no more than a tease? Space, she needs some space. Biting the inside of her cheek, she decides to slightly scoot away from him, drawing her knees to her chest and putting some distance between them. From where she is now, Sakura can see the strained expression Shisui is sporting, the subtle tension of his locked jaw, and the predatory glint in his black eyes. Ah fuck. She suppresses a wince. This is bad.
Really bad.
“Do you know,” and Shisui begins reaching for her, “what you are doing to me right now?”
“No.”
She almost gets an electric shock when he grips both of her arms and pulls her to him, water sloshing and pouring over the sides of the tub. It gets him soaked, but Shisui is clearly way past the point of caring, and Sakura tries to make herself small underneath his burning stare. Now kneeling on the tub's hard surface, she presses her thighs together and her nether regions reflexively tighten.
Shit.
Shisui’s gaze darkens even more. “Are you sure?”
She hesitates, “Yes.”
“Then tell me,” his index finger hooks under her chin and his thumb presses against the skin just below her lips, “why are you avoiding my eyes?”
Bravely, to refute his sentence, Sakura raises her gaze to him. “I am not.”
Silence. She can hear an imaginary clock ticking as seconds pass without a word from any of them. Then finally, Shisui leans down and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck before biting into it.
Surprised, Sakura yelps. “Hey—!”
“Behave,” Shisui says commandingly when she tries to pull away. It doesn't deter her, only spurring her to increase her efforts, but Shisui’s grasp is firm and steady, and she can only gasp and stiffen when she feels his warm tongue gently laving over the hurting area.
What happened to not doing anything she doesn't want him to?
“But you don't really mind, do you?” Inner whispers, stirring from her sleep. “Otherwise, you would have already punched some sense into him.”
“Is this okay?” she hears Shisui murmur against her skin, and then she feels him kiss the spot just below her ear. It feels like a flame, hot underneath with a dash of excitement. Sakura finds herself conflicted between nodding and shaking her head. Is it okay? she repeats to herself musingly. Is it? Obito, for one, is sure to get entertained by how Shisui is quickly warming up to her, enough to make bold advances at her; she can already hear his gleeful chuckles. When another bite is rendered to her skin, Sakura doesn't have the time to swallow back her impulsive moan.
Shisui stops.
The back of her neck heats up and she squeaks.
“Obito’s here,” is his words when he withdraws. He doesn't look bothered at all by their current situation. Flustered, Sakura takes advantage of his distraction and pulls herself free, submerging herself in the water if only to calm the pounding blood in her ears. She holds her breath. A part of her wishes that Shisui has taken the hint to leave her alone, but that fantasy is shattered when a strong hand latches onto her forearm and pulls her to the surface.
She breaks out of the water, gasping.
“Are you trying to drown yourself?” Shisui’s incredulous voice filters through her muddled senses. Through thick lashes, she shoots him a glare and begins to clamber out of the tub, uncaring of her naked body, breasts and all. Shisui instantly falls silent. She'd undressed first before he came in to join her, so he didn't really see her nakedness; and when she was in the water, her body was partly obscured by the murky liquid, but now?
Now she is completely exposed for his perusal.
“Hand me my towel,” she demands. Shisui's gaze lingers on her for a moment before complying. Wanting retribution, she pettily starts to dry her hair first instead of covering her body, gleefully noticing how Shisui swallows as his eyes roam around every inch of her exposed skin. There's curiosity when he sees the three interlapping seals on her stomach, and she waits for him to ask questions. He doesn't, however, and somehow Sakura feels relieved, not knowing how to explain herself to him. She can explain it to Obito perhaps, since the man already knows of her plight, but Shisui is a different story.
“You're teasing me,” he says with narrowed eyes.
Sakura smiles at him innocently. “Am I?”
She's sure that there are bruises on her neck, twin bite-sized circles marring her pale skin.
“Saye,” and there's a strained note in his tone, “you are teasing me.”
“Maybe I'm just testing your self-control and honor,” she replies haughtily. “After all, you did bite me without my permission.”
He turns away, unabashed. “You liked it.”
“Oh, I did,” Sakura mildly agrees, “but I clearly still set up boundaries and you broke them.”
Mischief glimmers in his ash-colored irises. “Would you like me to break them again?”
In response, she sends him an unimpressed glance, harshly rubbing her towel against her wet tresses. “No.”
She's the first one to get out of the bath, steam curling off her skin when she steps outside with her towel wrapped around her torso. Droplets fall onto the floor from the strands of her hair, trailing after her as she saunters to her corner. Obito is by her sleeping patient, and his eyebrows rise on seeing her figure, the edge of his lips curving into an amused smirk.
“Am I missing something?”
“No,” she interjects, “No, you are not.”
He hums ponderingly. “I don't see Shisui anywhere.”
“He's taking a bath.”
“You just came out of the bathroom.”
“Yes, I just did.”
“Sakura,” and there's an amused lilt in his voice, “did you take a bath together?”
She doesn't respond. Carefully, Sakura rummages through her pack and pulls out a turtleneck, identical to the one she wore earlier, and drapes it over her bag. Instead of spandex shorts, she opts to choose joggers for variety, and places it beside her turtleneck before sliding her bangles in place. She is then faced by a dilemma: her bra and underwear.
Obito must have sensed her unease because he is behind her in a second, peering curiously over her shoulder. “Something the matter?”
“Well,” another bout of heat has her cheeks flushing, “I need privacy.”
Because unlike Shisui, Obito knows that she's Sakura, and hell if it isn't damn awkward if she were to flash him her body.
“I didn't know you were the prudish type,” Obito hums cheerily, but he doesn't move away much to her displeasure. Instead, he reaches over and, to her horror, pulls out the bra partially hidden by her joggers by its strap. Fuck. She'd been hoping that he wouldn't see that.
“It's red,” he says.
“It is,” Sakura confirms. “Now, give it to me.”
Obito doesn't relent. “Let me help you,” he offers, and then he wraps the bottom garter under her covered breasts and clicks the snaps shut together. Carefully, so as not to touch her inappropriately, he coaxes her to slide her arms through the straps before tightening them so they won't fall over her shoulders. The whole ordeal is done within seconds, leaving Sakura no time to protest.
“You're good at this,” she marvels, embarrassment forgotten. Well, it was Obito who insisted so what is there to be ashamed of? Brushing aside her earlier discomfort, she then begins dressing in earnest, pulling her turtleneck over her head and adjusting it. Through her towel, she slides into her underwear, pausing every so often to again tighten her towel lest it falls off. When that particular challenge has passed, Sakura allows her towel to drop to the ground and reaches for her joggers, jerking the drawstrings taut so it sits snugly on her hips.
“So are you going to tell me or what?” Obito asks.
A tentative pause, “Tell you what?”
“Those hickeys on your neck,” he says pointedly, and she scowls, plopping down on her futon with crossed legs. The girl under her care continues to sleep on, oblivious to the waking world. Obito presses, “They look quite fresh.”
“They're not hickeys,” Sakura snaps, humiliation evident in her words. “Hickeys are made by sucking. That damn bastard bit me.”
A smirk. “Did you like it?”
She stares at him, scandalized, “Obito!”
Placatingly, Obito hands her a bowl from the package he's set by his corner. Still indignant, she looks at it and back at him. “It's dinner,” he affirms, and she reaches for it, inhaling the scent of fresh fried rice and dumplings. Heavenly. She doesn't waste any time digging in when Obito tosses her a pair of unbroken chopsticks, stuffing the rice into her mouth and chewing vigorously. There’s a chuckle, and Obito sits beside her, his own dinner in hand.
“Slow down, you'll choke.”
“Oh please,” Sakura rolls her eyes at him and waves her chopsticks. “Dinnertime at ROOT is always like a game of tug of war. Because the food is limited, people are forced to fight for it. You have to eat fast. I think I've already buried a person or two who died because they were trampled on.” She shrugs. “And I've also had to help dying people who accidentally choked on their food.”
With another bite of rice, she doesn't see the look of pity and regret Obito sends her on hearing her reminisce. She does, however, feel him running his fingers through her still damp hair, and she blinks at him owlishly.
“If you're ever hungry, just tell me,” his dark eyes smolder with resolve and affection, “If you're craving for something, tell me. I'll make sure you'll never starve. I’ll give you everything you want.”
At his declaration, Sakura has to slow down in chewing and swallow her food carefully, her heart pumping wildly and her mind racing. Mentally she groans. Why does Obito have to be so suave? Or is it because he's older than her, thus the attractive maturity? But she doesn't shy away from his affection; in fact, she leans more into him, until her head is resting against his bicep.
“Stop being so charming,” she grumbles. “You'll ruin my heart.”
A deep amused rumble. “Is that your emotions speaking or the soulbond reacting?”
She stops at that, and resumes eating again. “Are you treating me well because of your emotions or because of our soulbond?” she counters.
Another dumpling is stuffed in her mouth, and Obito plucks up one of his and puts it into her bowl which she accepts without any complaint. He's warm, warmer than most people, but so was Shisui, and Sakura has to wonder if Uchiha people have abnormally high temperatures due to their affinity to fire. He doesn't respond to her question; neither does she. Because blurring along the lines of soulmarks and emotions, Sakura finds herself not knowing what to answer.
Is her affection of her own will or of Fate's stupid game?
Not one second after she's finished her dinner, Shisui gets out of the bathroom, curls wet and well, torso stark-naked. A towel is wrapped lowly around his hips, revealing the v-curve that leads down his crotch. Sakura stares at him, flabbergasted. Carelessly, he pads to his corner and half-hazardly begins dressing, giving her a wide view of his toned back muscles that ripple with his every move. Her eyes narrow in suspicion. Is he still continuing his little game?
Beside her, Obito snickers.
“Horndog,” he whispers to her, entertained.
“He's an idiot,” Sakura mutters back. “A dumb, stupid idiot.”
“But you like it,” Obito says with wicked glee.
She jabs at his side. “Shut up.”
Like hell she's going to give Shisui satisfaction by giving in.
Yeah, fuck him.
“Hungry?’” Obito calls out to the younger Uchiha. Shisui gives him a brief nod as he clasps the button of his pants together, and Sakura turns her head away from him, choosing to glare at the wall instead. Stupid Uchiha and their genes. Why must they be so stunningly hot? She feels Obito shift as he stands up and goes to hand Shisui his own dinner before settling back to his place beside her. Then his hand creeps up to squeeze her waist, sending electric sparks through her body.
“What, you don't like the view?” Obito murmurs to her teasingly. Indignant, she shoots him a glare and scowls haughtily, earning herself an entertained grin from the man. She huffs. Tease. Her pout turns into a stifled moan when Obito’s hand begins to slide down, down, until half of his palm has slipped into the waistband of her joggers, lightly tracing the faded mark on her back.
“Obito—”
“Mm?” His eyes glimmer mischievously, and Sakura swallows, her own orbs flitting to Shisui dressing by his corner, his back facing them; heat flaring up within her at the thought of being seen. She feels her nether parts clench in anticipation even as her morality wails at her to stop. Obito’s much larger hand is now teetering dangerously over the curved crack of her bum, teasing and taunting, and she nearly keens when his thumb slides in between her ass cheeks.
“Obito—!” she hisses at the older man, desperately trying to be discreet. First Shisui, and now him? She chews on her bottom lip. Not that she hates their touch— in fact, it alarms her to know that she is pliant to their ministrations, her body naturally accepting their unwarranted affections. But this, this, is getting dangerous, even for her tastes!
“Alright, alright,” Obito chuckles, withdrawing his hand. A shiver runs down her spine when he accidentally brushes her middle back. “I'm sorry.”
Forcing herself to remain calm, Sakura shoots him the most vehement glare she can muster and stands up, setting her bowl on the coffee table in the midst of their room. Shisui glances at her at the sudden rattle, and she raises an eyebrow at him daringly, defiance flashing in her azure orbs. Questioningly, Shisui instead directs his gaze to his relative, combing his fingers through his thick curly hair.
“I'll take the first watch,” she announces before anyone can get a word in. “I'll be outside if you need me.”
She ignores the subtle quirk on Obito’s lips as she strategically retreats to the roof, a frustrated grumble falling out of her mouth before she can stop herself. The Uchiha pair certainly know of their charm and have no reservations in flaunting it in front of her. Sakura scowls. Do they really have to be so proactive? Even Shisui? Although he doesn't really know that she's Sakura? Contemplatively, she tucks her legs in her arms, drawing them closer to her chest as she gazes at the clear night sky. From where she sits, she can see Venus's faintest glimmer.
Somehow, the planet’s plight is similar to her own— visible, but still unseen.
She doesn't know how long she's been sitting there when Shisui comes to join her. Sakura doesn’t give any inclination of noticing him. His body temperature is above normal, radiating from his flesh heatedly and penetrating hers, effectively battling the night chill. He smells of pinecone and pepper, a homely scent that she breathes in subtly. There's a pop, and a can of beer appears in front of her, dangling invitedly from a calloused hand.
“Want some?”
Ah yes. She wrinkles her nose in distaste. She's almost forgotten Shisui’s penchant for getting drunk and being carefree with women. With downturned lips, she shakes her head at him, burrowing even further into her own embrace.
Maybe she should have brought warmer clothes, Sakura thinks. Goosebumps are pricking her bare arms where the cold has settled, and it is only because she knows how to regulate her heat using chakra that she hasn't frozen to death yet. Suddenly envious, she glances at the man beside her, skimming over his languid posture and catlike aura as he lounges comfortably. Damn Uchihas. Having a high body temperature must be so nice on outdoor missions. As if noticing her stare, Shisui’s gaze lifts up to hers, his own mouth curving into a miniscule smirk before he takes a sip of his beverage.
“Beer can warm you up, you know,” he casually says, but there is clearly another motive under his otherwise innocent statement. She narrows her eyes at him in faux-warning; however Shisui just shrugs at her and continues, “But,” and the mischievous undertone is becoming more transparent, “I can warm you up better.”
There.
She's been expecting that response.
“Who's to say you'll be the one warming me up?” Sakura counters immediately. “I'm pretty certain I can warm you up better than you can warm me up.” Playfulness, tainted with a bit of defiance, colors her words, and she tilts her head, once again baring her slender neck at him. “You just have to ask.”
His pupils dilate at her brazen display, “Ask?”
“Yes,” she hums wickedly, “ask, Shisui. You just have to ask.”
It’s a dangerous game, she knows, but Shisui is an infuriating man, and she wants to see where his boundaries start and where they end. Now that they’ve set aside his personal hate for her connection to ROOT, Sakura can glimpse at his true nature underneath his facade, can see that his want for her isn’t artificial, but rather, genuine. How genuine, she cannot decide yet, but she can push and push to see when his control will snap. Manipulation at its finest. Her mouth lifting into the slightest hint of a smile, she holds Shisui’s gaze, curiosity bleeding into lust. She can see his jaw clenching as he wrestles to keep his rationality, but Sakura doesn’t allow him to; teasingly, her fingers skim his leg until they settle on his upper thigh, and she squeezes.
It elicits an inaudible swallow from the man who watches her with half-hooded eyelids, his eyes darkening into a stormy shade.
“Minx,” he growls, and Sakura laughs, all ringing and bright, and levels him with a mocking look.
“Tease,” she hisses, in retaliation to the bite marks he had left on her neck.
And she squeezes yet again.
“I thought you didn’t want to fuck,” Shisui rumbles, all calculative. “Did you change your mind?”
“Not really,” she responds, her hand never leaving his thigh. “But who's to say that I won't?”
That is all it takes for Shisui to crash their lips together, no gentleness mingling in his impulsive action. Sakura winces when their teeth clack together, but the man makes his apology known a second later by licking her bottom lip tenderly before withdrawing. Dark orbs survey her dazed face a bit amusedly, and she quickly gathers herself together and scoffs at him, running her fingers through her still damp hair.
“Cute,” Shisui murmurs, tilting her head upwards by hooking a finger under her chin. His thumb presses against the seam of her mouth, and Sakura parts her lips to catch the finger with her tongue, slyly giving it a brief suck and immediately leaning away from his touch. Her smile grows into a smirk when she sees Shisui’s throat bob at her brazenness. Her glee doesn't last long however. The moment her triumphant expression is seen, Shisui lets out a little laugh and grabs her closer by her arms; he then places his strong hands on her waist and lifts her to situate her on his lap, their nether parts almost brushing against each other.
“Are you testing me?” he questions quietly, seemingly all dangerous, but mirth is subtly hidden in his tone. His hands are resting on her hips, and his eyes are attentive, if not lustful. Intrigued, Sakura skims his jaw with the back of her index finger, her thumb rubbing at the subtle circles under his eyes. She hums. Her knees are bent on either side of his lap so she's straddling him, one hand on his broad shoulder to support herself. Shisui watches her, his eyes glazing over when she leans forward and brushes an innocent kiss against his cheek.
When she draws back, Shisui again catches her lips with his own, and electricity surges between them, tingling through their pressed mouths intensely. It makes her gasp a little, and Shisui doesn't miss the chance to plunge his tongue inside her cavern, teasing and light, which she returns fervently until she has to break away to breathe in air. Well. Well shit. There's amusement in Shisui’s dark eyes when she discreetly starts to scramble off his lap, only to be halted by his unrelenting grip on her person.
“We're not done yet,” he says with a rasp.
Heart thudding almost painfully, Sakura shakes her head free of the cloudiness that has settled in. “I think we are,” she says hushedly, a flush rising to paint her already rosy cheeks. Oh gods, when did she become so shameless to kiss a man so wantonly? Sure, she was appointed as the Head of the Seduction Division shortly after she had turned eighteen, but every endeavor of hers was always accompanied with genjutsu. They never went beyond a few flirty touches to the arm or a fleeting kiss. She bites her lips, abashed. She only meant to kiss his cheek for old time's sake!
“Saye,” Shisui rumbles. Subtle joviality swirls in those beautiful orbs of his, flecks of midnight-blue spinning beneath. “Saye.”
And with that, he brings her right wrist to his mouth and kisses it.
The act would have spurred her on, if it weren’t for her curiosity. If Shisui had kissed her left wrist where his mark should be instead of her right, would it have the same effect as with Obito? But Sakura is not given the chance to explore the thought, because Shisui has coaxed her forward, one of his hands resting on the small of her back and the other on the back of her head, holding her tightly. With how close they are, her ear pressed against his chest, she can hear the steady sound of his heartbeat.
“You drive me insane,” is what she hears next. A wry chuckle. “And I don't know why.”
But she knows. She knows that the reason Shisui is acting like this with her is because of their soulbond. However dormant their bond may be, it isn't truly weakened, thus Shisui’s impulsive actions. If it weren’t for her restrictions, Sakura would have already told him. Tired from their earlier excursions, her eyes then flutter shut, and she snuggles further to him, bracing his temperature to protect herself from the cold. Her hands find the hem of his shirt and she slides them inside, placing them on his back for extra body heat. Shisui doesn't protest. In fact, he pulls her even closer and props his chin onto the crown of her head.
“Sleep,” he tells her soothingly. It reminds her of the old days, when she would curl up on him on sunny afternoons to take a quick nap. His fingers play with the ends of her hair, tugging at them gently. “I'll wake you up later.”
Shisui doesn't wake her up. When her eyes open again, she's now lying comfortably on her futon, covers tucked carefully to her chin. Too groggy with sleep, she doesn't remember the events of yesterday. Groaning, Sakura forces the haziness in her brain to go away and struggles to sit on her elbows, swiping at the small trail of drool that has slipped down her mouth.
It's still dark out, she notes on looking out the window, still befuddled. Hints of blue streak the otherwise black sky, signaling the coming of a new day. For a moment, she sits in a daze, staring blankly at nothing.
It must all be a dream— a very, very sweet dream. Surely her meeting with Obito and Shisui did not happen, so all that must be just a figment of her imagination. Fighting back sadness, she shifts to rise, her blankets pooling down her ankles as she stands up. She doesn't notice the ruffled futon beside hers nor the other foreign packs neatly placed in the corners. It doesn't register through her dulled senses the unfamiliar room; remnants of sleep still cloud her mind, tampering her judgment and senses. Slowly, she makes her way to the bathroom, intent on taking a long warm bath before starting her day, consequently washing away her dampened feelings. Some mornings she wakes up like this— mourning for what she'd lost, yearning for people she cannot have.
But still, through her drowsiness, Sakura feels like she's forgetting something.
She goes chin-deep in warm water, her eyes fighting to stay open, her faux brown hair floating around her like a halo. Her clothes are haphazardly strewn about the bathroom floor, her being too lazy to fold them as she took them off. She blows into the water, creating gurgling bubbles. What is she forgetting? Absent-mindedly, she reaches for soap, only to grab at empty air. She blinks confusedly. The soap holder in her bathroom is near to her tub for easy access so why—
Oh. Oh.
An incredulous laugh bubbles out of her lips at the realization.
Not a dream at all.
As if to check that everything is real, Sakura glances around and takes in the unfamiliar place— the yellowish tiles, the duck-patterned curtains, the empty shelves where the soaps should be— and deduces that she's still in their rented room and isn't back in ROOT. A content beam settles on her face and she sinks back into the water, reveling at the recent events. She's alive, she's well, she's back in her soulmates' embrace. Nevermind the fact that Shisui doesn't know who she truly is. Humming cheerfully, Sakura reaches over the ledge where a bottle of shampoo is placed, and begins lathering her hair with its contents.
The two men must have gone out to get breakfast, she thinks. Then she frowns. Was her patient still in bed when she rose up to take a bath? She cannot remember.
Speaking of her patient, what should she name her? Thoughtfully, Sakura browses her mind for any acceptable names, forgoing to be creative and choosing to be practical instead. Sages, it feels like she's naming a kid of her own. But considering the fact that the girl does call her “Mama”, perhaps Sakura can claim her truly as her child. Fingers tangling through her hair, she sinks deep in thought, not noticing when hurried footsteps outside begin to rush to the bathroom.
What she gets as a warning is the sudden slam of the door, and with the curtains drawn aside, she can see Obito’s disheveled state. His shoulders are drawn and tense, his eyes frantic and wild, only to relax on seeing her. Sakura herself has risen up from the water, chakra charged and ready to fight.
“What?” she queries with narrow eyes as she scans for any potential danger. “What’s the matter, Obito?”
It takes him only five quick strides to reach her, and when he does, his arms immediately encircle her bare waist and she is tugged to his chest. Bewildered, Sakura blinks in his tight embrace.
“Thought you'd gone and left,” the man mumbles.
“And you didn't see that my things were still there?” she asks, incredulous.
“Was too worried,” Obito breathes. “Or maybe it's my paranoia getting to me.”
Laughing disbelievingly, Sakura pushes him away and prods at his chest. “You've gotten wet.”
Instead of acknowledging that fact, Obito tries to reach for her again, but one unimpressed look from her has him halting in his actions. A pout crosses his lips, but she firmly holds her ground, gesturing at herself as she does so.
Maybe it’s because the fog in her head hasn't completely dissipated yet, but she feels no shame in displaying her bare body to the older man unlike last night. Soap suds trickle down the valley of her breasts, bubbles offering her the slightest cover of modesty by having settled on her areolas. Her soaked skin shimmers under the light, giving her a slicked look that could rival the women in Jiriaya's books. She feels the corner of her lips twitching into a languid smirk when his eyes begin to rove down, down, until they reach her sealed stomach.
Instead of getting abashed in catching her naked, Obito’s eyes zero on her markings, recognition flashing in his eyes followed by seething rage.
“What is this?” His large hands grasp her forearms. “What is this?” His pupils narrow into near slits when he gazes at her, a snarl forming on his mouth. “What has he done to you?”
~~~~
Itachi was expecting to greet a sole person, or perhaps a squad. What he was not expecting was a whole multitude of shinobi to be waiting for him at the gates.
“Sai.”
The man by his side gives him a noncommittal hum. “Yes?”
“I thought we only agreed on meeting with your leader.”
Thoughtfully, Sai nods. “I was also not informed of this new… development.”
Itachi’s sharp gaze sweeps at the scene before them. Hundreds of black-clad shinobi are camped outside the village gates, white flags positioned in every huddled group to convey peace. Some of them look hurried and disheveled, stains of blood still marring their clothes as if they had just returned from a mission. Some have their masks dangling from their belt. But most of them are prim and proper, hollow eyes staring eerily back at Itachi.
“Hokage-sama.” Kotetsu drops into position behind him. “How do you plan on proceeding?’
Despite the unplanned setback, Itachi immediately knows what his verdict should be when a familiar face saunters out of the crowd. Aburame Torune. Judging from the respectful bows, the man has become someone important within the faction, Itachi deduces. The Aburame stops short just out of his reach, a buzzing sound emitting from him, and Itachi concludes that it must be because of his insects. Cordially, he inclines his head at the ROOT operative.
“Torune.”
And Torune nods at him. “Itachi.”
They'd been comrades once, in the end of the last war. But shortly after Itachi was promoted into a higher rank, Torune disappeared without a trace. It isn’t a surprise to him anymore that Danzo had gotten hold of the insect-wielding man, considering that he was also a genius in his own right— albeit someone who wasn't born into the Aburame main house.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Torune intones. “But Danzo had sent Shuryō on a mission, and I am to be her proxy.”
“That does not explain the army you brought,” Itachi hears Kotetsu mutter sarcastically.
Apparently, Torune has also heard the statement, and his buzzing becomes significantly louder. “It does, actually,” is his quiet response. “I had orders to bring them here. Perhaps Shuryō has noticed that Danzo is already becoming antsy.”
There's a derisive scoff from the weapon specialist, “Your orders, Hokage-sama?”
“Accommodate them,” is Itachi’s immediate response. “Konoha does not turn away those who seek shelter.”
Kotetsu doesn't protest against him. A moment later, Itachi feels the man flickering away to relay his orders, leaving him and Sai with the unexpected guests.
All is serene, as if nature is in the midst of the eye of an impending storm. Or maybe a hurricane. Or an incoming earthquake. Either of the two would be good to happen now, Itachi thinks, as he mulls over the unwelcomed turn of events. Despite his confident words earlier, how is he supposed to house a hundred, or perhaps a thousand, men inside the village unprepared? Even the whole Uchiha compound will not be enough to host them all and hide them from the public eye.
But maybe… he muses at the idea that has surfaced in his intelligent mind, Maybe he can hide them away in the ruins of Danzo’s underground bunkers where ROOT was once held.
“Torune,” Sai addresses the shinobi before them. “Where, exactly, is Shuryō right now?”
“Off to scout one of Orochimaru's labs, the one located in the far south,” Torune replies. “Danzo sent her there to eliminate some intruders, but she won't be long, I suppose. However, you never know what may happen, and you know how she is—” an amused quirk of his thin lips— “she's too flighty for her own good.”
“And a trouble magnet,” Sai adds.
Flighty and a trouble magnet? Itachi is finding himself growing more curious every passing second. What is their leader like? Arrogant? Cunning? Or maybe, seductive? Whatever the case, he's sure not to be drowned by her wiles once they meet. Then Torune's words hit, and Itachi looks back at the Aburame, blinking owlishly.
“Did you just say, Orochimaru's labs?” he repeats.
If Torune has noticed the incredulous lilt of his question, he pays no indication of having so. Politely, he nods, “Yes, far south.”
Well.
Itachi resists the urge to groan and palm his face.
This is going to be a bomb, isn't it? One that will blow up in front of him. Far south is where he sent Obito and Shisui, and knowing his cousin’s extreme hatred for ROOT, chances are, a fight will ensue. Itachi can only pray that the volatile man won't kill the kunoichi for the village's sake. It won't do for him to accommodate this large army inside Konoha’s walls only to be raided from the inside once their leader's death is announced.
Oh sages.
“Something the matter, Uchiha-san?” Sai inquires, probably noticing his change in demeanor.
“No,” his face slips back into a perfect mask of apathy, hiding his worries. “Nothing is wrong.” He then nods at Torune, “Will it be alright with you to reside in your past quarters for the time being?”
An unimpressed stare. “Did you not burn it to the ground?”
“Some of it, yes,” Itachi amends. “But there are still a lot of nooks and places that are serviceable at the moment. I will send Yamato to fix any inconvenience. If that is alright with you?”
In deference, Torune dips his head. “You are the Hokage. We have no say in this matter until Shuryō has arrived.”
“I am asking you as a decent host, not as the Hokage,” he retorts sharply, not liking the misplaced submission. They were human beings, not some kind of puppet to heed incoherently. “As a human, you have the right to decline. I am not coercing you into anything; if you do not like your living arrangements then I will try to find another option.”
In thought, Torune falls silent. A second later, a hint of a smile lights on his lips, but it is gone the next moment.
“I can see why she adores you so,” is his gentle murmur. Before Itachi can ask him to elaborate, the man turns to call for his companions who rise instantly and begin cleaning up their camp. Within minutes, they are armed and ready, one knee bent on the ground and their heads bowed as they wait for further instructions.
“We will take up your offer,” Torune's glasses gleam when a sunray reflects against it, “please take care of us.”
And as fast as light, he and his comrades are gone, leaving only swirling leaves and smoke. behind their wake.