A/N: Revised 3/13/2018.

OODA Loop

Observe, Orient, Decide, Act

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When Sakura was 10, she learned about torture and interrogation for the first time in the Academy.

She had shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Ino-chan's daddy detailed the various ways to dissociate themselves in order to cope with physical pain. They were shown slides of torture inflicted injuries and then read the symptoms of a broken psyche while Sakura tried not to shut her eyes to the gruesome images. She listened in uncharacteristically grim silence as Inoichi-san meticulously taught their class what to do in case of capture and held onto Ino-chan's hand as he stressed the importance of silence for their—and the village's—sake. A shinobi's livelihood was based on silence, he said, a vocal ninja was a dead one and lessons never really seemed to be the same since then.

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Before the war, when missions had started becoming more and more dangerous, Tsunade-shishou would always reiterate what to do in case she was overwhelmed by the enemy and found herself prisoner. She always said—in joking tones that covered her worry—that she'd hate to have to send an extraction team because her prized apprentice couldn't punch her way out of things.

And that was why Sakura was currently pretending to be asleep. The first rule of capture—wherein the shinobi had been incapacitated prior to—was, upon waking, to give no indication of consciousness and observe. As such, Sakura kept her breaths and heartbeat carefully even while she tried to make sense of her difficult situation.

Her analytical mind told her the obvious: she was far, far away from home. She had been hit by Kakashi's and Obito's Kamui before being displaced; so, knowing what she did about the technique, she felt she could safely assume she was in another dimension. This did not bode well for her, and bitter tears gathered behind her closed eyelids at the theory.

She had been so close.

She had been steps away from her boys—steps away from showing them how she belonged with them—and it had all been taken from her. The only thing that rose above her bitter sadness was the frigid worry that plagued her heart. She didn't know where she was, and she would not know the war's outcome—if her loved ones lived or died or what—if she did not find a way home.

Sakura's senses subtly swept the surrounding area, leading to the second step in Captured Shinobi 101: captured Shinobi must orient themselves and filter any and all information obtained from the first step.

The ground beneath her was soft, and the uncomfortable poking she felt through the thin material of her shirt was most likely due to lying on her back on grass. Her flak jacket was missing. Her ears and sense of smell told her that there was a stream very close by, and the bird song in the distance gave the impression of relative peace. Were Sakura a regular civilian, she would have been lulled into a sort of calm.

Except, Sakura was a kunoichi, and her senses screamed at her that something (beyond the obvious foreign dimension dilemma) was not right. She was not a sensor by any means—that accolade was solely reserved for the Hyuuga clan—but the subtle sweep of her chakra told her that there were multiple entities by her body.

Very close to her body.

The nearest person was a few feet away and her hands subconsciously twitched for the comforting weight of a kunai, but she curbed her desire for fear of being discovered. No matter, her hands were just as deadly. Taking stock of her chakra reserves, Sakura was pleased to note that they were almost full. It was a pleasant feeling, one she hadn't felt since the beginning of the war when chakra exhaustion and paranoia didn't go hand in hand.

The knowledge was bittersweet, for things had gone horribly wrong since then and she had never had the required rest to replenish her stores. It forced her to focus on the unknown around her as nearly full chakra reserves meant a longer period of unconsciousness, and it made her nearly sick with panic. Forcibly calming herself, Sakura refocused and deduced that there were six entities in the vicinity.

That was good; if she could fight Sasori of the Red Sands and his one hundred puppets and win, then she could face off against six unknown factors and survive with minor wounds. If something did happen, then she could always rely on her last resort. She had nothing else to lose—everything worth caring about was too far to reach, anyway. Mentally nodding at her pep talk, Sakura tentatively probed her captor's energies with her own chakra.

It took all of the self-discipline she had acquired through her years as a kunoichi to keep from rearing back in surprise at the power that poked back. It felt almost like a subtle mixture of medical chakra and Naruto's chakra when he entered Sage Mode—but not quite. It was pure, and felt like warm, sunny days with Naruto and Ino as they laughed and ate ice cream in the shade of the Shodai's forest. It made her think of her mother's embrace, of Tsunade's rare grins, and of Kakashi's happy eye crinkle. But it also made her think of an overflowing sink, of a jar left open, of the burns on her fingertips when she used too much medical ninjutsu.

Sakura had been entering people's chakra networks for years now, and every single person's chakra felt unique. Naruto's felt like the early morning breeze in Spring, whereas Kakashi's felt like ozone in the air before lightning struck. Ino's chakra felt like cool water on a hot day, and Hinata's chakra felt like soft, silk petals brushing against bare skin. Sakura had once been told that her own chakra felt like the soothing caress of a lover, of joy and peace and all things one could possibly love about another person. (She had been embarrassingly pleased by this information.)

But this—this energy was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It was unblemished and whole, without a Yin or Yang, and it put her on edge—it was unnatural. It was not chakra. However, it was present only in one person, and it was not her cause for alarm.

The other three's energies felt like the whirling chakra of an unrestrained jinchuuriki. It reminded Sakura of Gaara during the Chuunin Exams so long ago, of Naruto when he was inconsolably angry and more beast than man. But, again, this too did not feel like chakra. This power felt like a turbulent ocean beneath a glass surface constantly beating against its encasement until some seeped through the cracks. However, while one source was significantly smaller and another felt like a dulled blade, it was the last that made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. It felt tightly controlled, yet it was massive; it was dark and violent in the way the Kyuubi had felt when Naruto almost lost himself to the its hatred completely.

But it, too, was unique.

Her instincts screamed, run! Get away! Predator! Predator! Run! But she was rooted to the spot as it burned over the entire area. It felt like standing on the precipice of a cliff with her toes hanging over the edge and waiting for someone to push her towards a rocky death below; it felt like being held in the giant maw of a rabid dog, her delicate bones grinding together until it swallowed her whole. Physically, however, it felt like multiple bee stings against her skin and it almost made her laugh.

No, these powers were not chakra, of that she was sure. And although Sakura was a genius in her own right, she could not fully comprehend what they could possibly be. Her finely honed senses were demanding she get away from the unknown, but an inconsistency in the foreign energies stayed her movement.

She only felt the energies of four beings, but she heard the low voices of six. Probing with her chakra again, Sakura could not suppress the icy shock that stilled her breathing for a split second before evening out once more.

She couldn't feel the last two because they didn't have chakra.

The last two people in the group had no traces of chakra—or even energy—in their systems and it threw her entire intellectual mind into a loop even as her heart screamed impossible!

All living things had chakra—from the trees at her back to the birds in their depths! A person without chakra was a person without life, and Sakura had the feeling that these people were very unlike the Edo Tensei's undead ninja. Her stomach flip flopped at how all of these energies—or lack thereof—had derailed her plans for escape.

She had to find a new way to get away from whoever or whatever these things were, and she struggled to contain her rising anxiety. War veteran she may be, but she had fought against her own kind, and she was awfully afraid.

Thing, Sakura, think! What would Shishou do?

Well, if she were being completely honest with herself, the Fifth Hokage would have punched her way out of any sort of predicament and then gotten raging drunk in celebration. Seeing as how she was sorely outnumbered and doubtful of any type of alcohol in the immediate vicinity, that just would not do.

Sakura didn't know for how long she laid there in the grass, limbs uncomfortably still and thinking of ways to get out of her situation. Deep down she knew that she had no way of getting home—she didn't have a bloodline limit, nor was there a Sharingan conveniently lying around—and escaping could possibly prove useless, but she'd worry about that later.

Her first priority was escape, and then she'd succumb to her well-deserved panic attack.

Later, Sakura would curse her tendency to get lost in her own thoughts. She had just weaved a viable plan of escape (run like her ass was on fire) when she finally noticed the pregnant silence hovering above her. Quenching the apprehension that twisted in her gut, she waited with baited breath as shifting clothing sounded extremely loud to her oversensitive hears.

"We know you're awake, wench! Stop pretending!"

Oh, hell.

Realizing that her plans were shot to oblivion, and that the only way out was through hopeful diplomacy or possible bloodshed (or running like hell), Sakura pushed herself up to a sitting position to level wary eyes on her presumed captors.

You've got to be kidding me.

Trying—and failing—to keep her expression neutral, narrowed bright beryl eyes tried to comprehend what laid before them. Rosy lips parted slightly in bewilderment as she attempted to process the adorable, furry puppy ears on the man she knew had called her "wench."

Archaic insult aside, Sakura was painfully reminded of that silly mission so long ago where Nekobaa had lent Team 7—the original Team 7—cat ears for their confrontation with Nekomata. But those were fake, and these...twitched in...irritation? She really wanted to rub her eyes—just in case she was hallucinating—but that was unwise. They twitched again and she knew then, without a doubt, that standing in front of her was a man with actual dog ears sprouting out the top of his head.

If Kiba were in her place, he'd probably be howling with envy.

Dismissing him (because no man who called her wench would be blessed with her attention), but still keeping his strange form in her peripherals, Sakura's gaze wandered over to the others. Her eyes sought out the one with the power that felt like sunshine and widened when they came upon a mere slip of a girl who stared at her with wide, cobalt eyes.

The girl swallowed nervously before offering a tremulous smile, and Sakura's jaw clenched at the small kindness. That—no matter the circumstance—was not proper captor behavior and it put her even more on edge than she already was. It all felt off to her, like she was being tricked into trusting them, but her eyes were unexpectedly drawn to the small body that stared at her with wide emerald eyes cradled in the girl's arms.

Sakura's heart softened at the sight; she hadn't seen a child in many, many years since her deployment to the front lines, and children were their soft spot—even if they did feel like a demon host. Then the little boy shifted, and a small furry mass the same auburn color of his hair twitched into view. Balking at the sight, because that was obviously a tail, she entertained the thought that he was probably the girl's summons.

She didn't know what type, but summons she could handle—even if this particular one felt different. Maybe he was a stronger summons than most?

Pursing her lips as her brow furrowed, calculating eyes shifted to the girl's side where two more people—a man and woman—observed her cautiously. They were the ones without chakra, but they seemed like normal civilians to her. Their bodies were soft and lacked the telltale rigidity all shinobi, even genin, possessed. But they each held something that could be used as a weapon with familiarity: the woman had a large boomerang nestled at her side, and the man cradled a staff between lose hands. Sakura kept an eye on them as well because she knew well enough to look underneath the underneath.

That only left one source of power—the one that made her chakra churn violently in her gut and gather in her hands—and it was secluded beyond the tree line. She kept her eyes glued to it and expanded her chakra until it brushed against the burning energy, but recoiled in alarm when it flared warningly as if angered by the unsolicited probe.

Her chakra also flared angrily, as if it too were furious at the uncomfortable pressure, and the burning in her gut and the bee stings against her skin increased to irritating amounts. It was a painful annoyance, but her instincts told her that she was still at its mercy; and she was not okay with that.

And then the most beautiful man Sakura had ever seen emerged from the shadow of leaves and her lips parted unabashedly in a silent gasp. If she thought Sasuke was beautiful, then this man was ethereal. It was shameful to admit, but even at 19 years old and war torn, Sakura was still slightly boy crazy and hadn't seen a decent looking man since before the war.

Actually, that wasn't true...most of her friends were good looking; but she had fought, bled, and wept with them. They were more like brothers than potential lovers. The also, however, did not hold a candle to the being who was currently staring at her in clear disgust.

"You will tell This Sesshomaru who you are, immediately."

His deep, velvety voice caressed her ears until her admiring thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Did he really just refer to himself in the third person?

And was that blatant contempt in his sinful voice? His power pushed against her oppressively, as if bullying her to submit to him, and Sakura's temper reared its ugly head as her eyebrow twitched agitatedly.

Standing on strong legs and happily noting that all of her previous injuries had self-healed, Sakura squared her shoulders and glared at the self-righteous, demanding taller man.

"Actually, I think I'll pass on that," she drawled, her gloved hands curling into fists when a low growl invaded the space between them, "Why don't you tell me where I am, instead?"

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tbc