Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Hannibal or Naruto.

This is a bit of a crossover between Naruto and the TV series Hannibal. I recently re-watched Hannibal and got this little drabble idea stuck in my head. For fans of the show, you may see some specific references to the show. Imagine Pein in the place of Hannibal and Sakura in the place of Will Graham.

Sakura's chin was cupped in the palm of her hand, one elbow leaning on the dark, very expensive, mahogany dining table. She couldn't believe she was in this situation—this disastrous, ridiculous situation. Really, all she'd ever wanted out of life was to be left alone, move somewhere with her many dogs—preferably somewhere isolated from polite society—and be a dedicated hermit. Oh, and to avoid eye contact at all costs.

Eye contact was the most annoying thing—even detrimental to her mental health. The many psychologists she'd been forced to endure had thought that if she could only interact more, be social more often (in other words, be able to look a stranger in the eye without having a panic attack), then all her problems would begin to not be as overshadowing to the happiness life could offer.

They were wrong.

Until Dr. Pein Lecter. A strange name, to say the least. Really, that should've been her first warning. The charismatic man, with his piercing gaze that nearly begged her to see him as he really was, to understand him. With his nice, expensive suits that cost more than her house and the even nicer dinners.

Too bad he turned out to be a cannibalistic serial killer.

He'd been so understanding. Had listened to her as she slowly broke herself open to his ringed gaze. And he took it all. He reached into her soul and took it all with greedy, demanding fingers.

Sakura could admit to herself—privately, of course—that she'd let herself see him as he truly was, and hadn't been afraid. Or disgusted. Or any other normal, human emotion.

No, all she'd been was surprised. And the sudden overwhelming feeling of betrayal and injustice was so hot in her gut when she finally figured it out, traveling up her throat until she could feel it on her tongue, making her run.

Perhaps foolishly, she'd ran. Away from him, away from the people who'd relied on her to look at all the horrific crime scenes and tell them what kind of killer was responsible. But mostly, from Dr. Pein Lecter.

Now, as she sat across from said man, refusing to make eye contact, her date sitting at the head of the table, still jabbering on about his job no one present gave a flying fuck about, Sakura wondered if she'd feel better if she could jam her steak knife through the good doctor's eye.

"—and you would not believe how tedious my boss, Jack, can be. Crass and constantly yelling at anything that even slightly displeases him—"

Sakura wondered why she'd agreed to this date. She didn't even really like the guy. Actually, no—she detested him. He saw her downcast gaze as submissive, not a way of protecting both of them. She was sure he wouldn't be too pleased to know something as mundane as a moment of eye contact with her could reveal so much of himself.

Not that she wanted to know his secrets anyways.

She wasn't exactly sure how Pein had found her. She hadn't left a trail behind, had immediately scrapped her phone the moment she'd pieced it all together, had gathered her dogs and drove and drove until they needed food and water.

The attentiveness. The curiosity, the way he watched her, the little suggestions here and there. Oh, and one could not forget about the dinners, nor the little cannibalistic puns he was ever so fond of.

He'd made her feel important. Seen. Understood.

She just hadn't realized he'd felt the same way about her.

Now he was staring at her with that little smile. Thin, blood red lips pressed together, hiding his sharp canines. Maybe that was why he'd never really smiled with his teeth showing. Because someone might notice how sharp they were, how they might grow sharper the closer you got.

The hand not propping up her chin up clutched her wine glass. She downed it in a single, hasty gulp. The smile disappeared, replaced with a flicker of distaste before going back to his cool and calm facade. He'd always hated how she never appreciated wine, had scolded her over dinners about appreciating the finer things in life.

Dinners. The dinners she now knew involved human remains. The realization at first had sent her scrambling to her bathroom, hunched over the toilet, but after that initial burst of disgust, all Sakura felt was anger at herself for not figuring it out sooner.

It had been almost a year. A year of running from the man sitting across from her, now staring at her—only ever at her. A year of solitude and working small jobs here and there to get by. To buy dog food and other necessities. A year of looking over her shoulder and wondering why she hadn't just turned him in.

But she knew the answer. It was because she was the unstable one, the mentally ill one. And Dr. Lecter was the world renowned ex-surgeon turned psychologist.

But that wasn't all. Sakura, to put it simply, found eating at Dr. Lecter's dining room table more appealing than turning him in.

She tried not to think about the single voicemail she'd received from him before she'd tossed her phone, battery shattered on the pavement. There had been one, two, three missed calls from the doctor after she realized the truth and began to pack her bags. And then after the fourth, there was a voicemail.

"Sakura," he'd said calmly, but with an underlying twinge of . . . concern? "Are you alright? You haven't answered any of my calls. Or anyone's calls. We had an appointment scheduled earlier today, and it's not like you to miss it. It's not very polite, I think."

A pause. A shallow breath.

"If I have done something to offend you, I do apologize. But the key to any healthy relationship is communication, my dear. Perhaps we could talk over dinner?"

Another pause, this one shorter than before.

"Come back home, Sakura. I don't want to have to go looking for you. I don't think you'd like that either."

It had been a threat, albeit not as so cleverly disguised as ones before. But she could hear it in his voice—he knew she knew. And that was a problem.

After almost a year, Sakura had let herself settle. A small cottage up north, land for her dogs to roam around, a decently paying job . . . She'd thought it was going well.

Until her date, that was. She'd been more than a little surprised to find Pein leaning against the wall, hands clasped in front of him, watching her as she took in the fact that one of the world's worst serial killers was standing in her date's home, ready to eat dinner with them.

Apparently, her date knew Dr. Lecter as a colleague. Something about working together during Pein's time as a surgeon. Her date explained to her—without noticing how Sakura's hands had begun to shake—that Dr. Lecter had been in town and it would've been rude to not at the very least invite him over for dinner on the one night he was available.

But Sakura knew this wasn't simply a coincidence. No, she had no doubt Pein had manipulated her date into getting an invitation, and that he knew she would be there. It certainly wasn't for her date's company.

How he'd figured out her location, Sakura had no idea. But it was infuriating . . . and terrifying. Truly, completely terrifying, that this monster could still care about her disappearance after a year. A cannibalistic, highly intelligent psychopath interested in her? No thanks.

Pein twisted his fork in his hand, moving it from his plate to his mouth in graceful, careful movements. His eyes stayed locked on hers. There was a bit of surprise there, though whether that was because she was for the first time looking into his eyes for an expanded period of time by her own desire or because she hadn't started running yet, Sakura had no idea

And then he flicked his delicate wrist and impaled her date's hand with his fork.

Sakura froze. Her date screamed. Pein smiled a closed lipped smile.

In the next second, Pein stabbed her date through the temple with a long, thin knife, which had been used for carving their dinner. Sakura hadn't asked what kind of meat it was, hadn't tasted one bite.

Her date froze, wide-eyed. Unblinking.

Pein let his arm drop back to his side. He smiled at her. "How I have missed you, Sakura."

"I haven't missed you," she said. She couldn't feel her lips move, didn't realize that was what was going to roll off her tongue until she heard it herself. Her hand gripping her own knife turned stark white at the knuckles.

Pein tisked. "Now, now Sakura. Let's not be rude."

"You're a cannibal who's been subtly manipulating me for months. I don't think I'm the rude one at the table." Her eyes darted over to look at her wide-eyed, silent date. "And I didn't just kill a man at the dinner table."

"He's not dead."

"Not yet."

A flash of white teeth, like a shark's. Sakura supposed that was an accurate comparison, all things considered. Her stomach twisted.

"Why are you here, Dr. Lecter?" Sakura asked quietly.

"Are we no longer using each other's first names, then?"

"Not since I found out you were feeding me people. And you didn't answer my question."

Pein gave a soft sigh. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you?"

Sakura gritted her teeth. "It's insulting that you still see me as so gullible. I know what you are."

He blinked at her. "Yes, I suppose you do." Clasping his hands in front of his dish, Pein asked, "What would I need to say to convince you to come home?"

"I am home."

Pein made a show of looking around. Sakura sneered. "Not here. With my dogs. In my home, alone, living without you breathing over my shoulder." It had always felt like that—like Pein was always her shadow, breathing her in wherever she went.

"You are not happy here."

"I've been running from you for almost a year. It's hard to be much of anything pleasant in these kinds of circumstances."

"You are in charge of your own circumstances. You were the one who chose to run."

"You planned to eat me."

Pein blinked at her. "Though I have no doubt you would be exquisite, I no longer have those kinds of inclinations towards both of ours' future."

"Lying is rude," Sakura drawled.

A tilt of his lips, eyelids lowered. "I no longer carry those inclinations as the prominent desire in my day-to-day life."

Sakura hummed. That was likely as close to the truth as she was going to get. "You should go home, doctor."

"Why haven't you turned me in, Sakura?"

She clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from trembling, her knife held between them. "You know why."

"Indulge me," Pein purred.

She sighed. "No one would believe the crazy empath that her once psychiatrist is the Chesapeake Ripper. Especially not after you've so thoroughly destroyed any sane credibility I might've still had with the bureau." She looked him in the eye, saw a spark of amusement and glee there. "Which is exactly what you wanted."

"You have always been so unpredictable, my dear. And your reaction to everything has been so very entertaining." He drummed his fingers lightly on the table, still smiling that closed lipped smile at her. "Though I had thought your sense of duty and morality would compel you to at least attempt to turn me in. Running seemed beneath you."

"Running got me away from your manipulation and any threats you could've—and would have—made towards the people around me, scarce though they are." She breathed deeply through her nose. "I would say it served me well. We both know the moment you saw me after my revelation you would've seen that I knew, and you wouldn't have hesitated to kill me or, at the very least, keep me locked away until you could manipulate me enough to ensure I wouldn't betray you."

"Running could be seen as a betrayal."

"So could hiding the fact that you're a cannibalistic serial killer who's been serving his guests human remains, so I suppose we're both hypocrites."

Pein ran his pierced tongue along his bottom lip. His eyes flashed in the light when he quirked his head. "And would you forgive me for my betrayal then, Sakura?"

"Forgiveness is not something I have in me anymore."

"Ah, but that is why there are two of us. Forgiveness is too great and difficult for one person. It requires two: the betrayer and the betrayed."

Sakura narrowed her eyes. "And which one are you?"

Pein just smiled, then he said, "Every human being is capable for great acts of cruelty. I just don't lie about mine to myself."

"Perhaps you should start," Sakura drawled. Her eyes flickered over to her dying date. There was a faint rattling sound coming from somewhere inside his throat.

Pein's smile widened. "Sometimes I wonder about killing you," he said idly, one long finger brushing against his dinner plate, left half uneaten, going up and down in soothing motions. "What you would taste like, what your blood would look like spraying out of your throat in a beautiful arch, gasping for breath that you cannot have . . . and then I stop." He looked at her, fiercely, almost angrily. "Do you know what it means for a being like myself to stop, Sakura?"

She gave one long slow shake of her head. Whether that was as in she didn't know or she didn't want to know was still up for debate. "I try not to think about you anymore."

Pein ignored her words. "It means that I must, somehow, care. And I haven't cared for anyone in a very long time, Sakura."

"I don't want you," she whispered.

"Want and desire don't always go hand-in-hand," he mused. "Sometimes our bodies know what we subconsciously desire even when our minds don't."

"Don't psychoanalyze me, doctor," Sakura said slowly. "You won't like what you find."

They started at each other for a long moment. Then Sakura took a deep breath and said, "I want you to leave." Her eyes darted over to her date, to the wall behind Pein, to the knife she was clutching in her hand—anywhere but at Pein. "I don't want to think about you anymore. I don't want to know where you are or what you're doing. I don't care anymore. I'm going to move on with my life, so I would recommend you do the same with yours."

It was silent.

Then Pein gave a soft sigh, stood from his seat, and said, "I will give you time, Sakura. But I will never be far from your reach." He cast a fleeting look towards her date. "I do so hope you can find something else to wet your appetite in the meantime. I did, after all, ruin your date."

Sakura had to bite back the bubble of laughter that wanted to crawl up her throat at his little word play. And then Pein was gone, out the door, into the snow outside. And Sakura was left with her almost dead date who she didn't know what to do with. She felt sick, felt haunted—or maybe hunted was a better word choice.

Her stomach twisted again as she watched her date blink slowly, unseeing, clearly not aware of anything going on around him. That carving knife was lodged deep within his temporal lobe, and Sakura knew that he wouldn't be healing from that wound any time soon. Most likely never.

She looked back down at her barely picked at dinner, how the red meat leaked over the peas and mashed potatoes on her plate. Her stomach lurched, and Sakura quickly looked back up in fear and disgust.

For the first time that night, Sakura was hungry.

Author's Note: This is a drabble/one-shot/whatever the heck this is. There will not be a sequel. This is just a little idea I got and which I then quickly wrote while I was sitting at the airport waiting to fly home for Christmas. Take it as it is, but I hope ya'll enjoy.