Author's Note: I've had this idea in my head for a while, but of course I'm just now getting it down on paper. This story will be in three parts; this is, obviously, the first.

Two warnings: first, THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA. There are spoilers for up to manga chapter 402, although all events past chapter 342 are disregarded.

Second, there will be controversial topics mentioned in this story; namely, abortion. It's not the focus, but it will be discussed. I accept any and all constructive criticism, but I don't want to hear anyone bitching about that. Chances are if you're pissed about it, I'm not trying to make the point you think I am. I'm not trying to make any point, really.

Those things said, I don't own Naruto, and I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 1 - Displaced

No matter what the Council told the Fifth Hokage, the decision was not unanimous. There was one lone holdout, a former kunoichi with a past no one talked about. She could not be persuaded to vote in favor of the measure, but the bill's proponents only needed a two-thirds majority to override the Hokage's authority in shinobi affairs. Her stubborn dissent was written over when the head of the Council put pen to paper and signed on behalf of the entire legislative body.

The bill passed through various hands, from the head of the Council to the clerk outside their chambers to the shinobi on duty at the desk at the Hokage tower to Kotetsu until finally it found its way into Shizune's hands.

She should have given it to the Hokage immediately, of course, or at least opened it to ascertain its value, but Tsunade had so much on her desk already it was as likely to get lost as anything and she herself was busy, too. However counterintuitive it might sound, the office of the Hokage had more to do once Akatsuki had collapsed for good than it had the months prior to it. The organization had been a thorn in the village's side, but it kept the volatile Rain country stable and Orochimaru on his toes, too distracted to plan a cohesive attack on the village he wanted to watch burn. When Akatsuki fell, all that changed.

And the silent war had not been without its costs. There were several important funerals to be planned and attended and give eulogies for, and the memorial cenotaph was too small now to accommodate all the new names that were not so famous. Finding an appropriate sculptor to add on to the old one was a headache Shizune took upon herself, because Tsunade certainly would have destroyed the whole damn thing by that point.

The short of it all being that two hours passed before the important- and urgent-looking scroll was opened and read, and not by the Hokage. Shizune didn't even sit down to read it, simply snatched it on her way to somewhere else and threw it open as briskly as her gait. She read it through once, stopped dead in her tracks, and read it again, carefully.

She whirled around and went back in the direction she'd come, dumping everything else on her desk and striding into the Hokage's office.

"Tsunade-sama!" she called. The Fifth looked up in irritation over the mountain of other paperwork she had to handle and started to open her mouth to tell Shizune off, but, uncharacteristically, Shizune spoke over her. "You have to read this, now," she said, and planted it down on Tsunade's desk.

Tsunade had never seen Shizune look so flustered—and there had been some rough patches that would have warranted it when she was wandering. Shizune was trembling in such obvious rage and it was so out of character that Tsunade couldn't be irritated at being interrupted. The Hokage humored her apprentice and picked up what she was sure would be a waste of her time.

In the ten minutes that Shizune stood there, she saw Tsunade's eyes scan the entire document no less than five times. One passage in particular was read and re-read thirteen times, and then Tsunade was simply staring at the thing, her eyebrows drawn together and her mouth set in a deep, deep frown. Finally, she made a disgusted noise and threw the document down on her desk and leaned back in her chair. "Bastards have quite a set of balls, sending this kind of thing to a female Hokage, I'll grant them that," she finally declared.

"They can't possibly do this," Shizune said. "They can't, can they?"

"If they got the votes, they can," Tsunade answered.

"But if the vote wasn't fair, it couldn't have been, isn't there—"

"It doesn't matter," Tsunade interrupted sharply. "I have no grounds to contest this. According to this, they've overridden any veto power I might have had."

Shizune went silent again. Tsunade stood and walked to the window, stared down at the village, then returned to stand behind her desk, clenching and unclenching her fists all the while.

"I need to destroy something," she declared. "Find Sakura. Tell her to drop whatever she's doing and come train with me. We'll find some abandoned training field to demolish…"

Shizune bowed in assent and turned to leave the room. She heard Tsunade's weight drop into the creaky desk chair and the Hokage's palm hit the expanse of her forehead. Just before she closed the door, she heard Tsunade mumble, "I'll need to dismantle them peacefully before I leave; Naruto will just get fed up and strangle them in a week."

Sakura was simply born unlucky—she firmly believed this.

Cursed with a wide forehead, with pink hair, from birth. Cursed from graduation with teammates she could never, ever match, whom she could never escape being compared unfavorably to. A lopsided team, mismatched, so when they tried to prop each other up they faltered and stumbled like a newborn colt, except they never quite made it past the first few minutes to where they could run. Cursed to get her priorities all wrong and damage friendships she should have kept dear.

When she was fifteen she knew she'd lost her childhood love to himself. When she was seventeen she realized she should have fallen in love with the other teammate, but by then he'd looked past her to other girls (and she couldn't begrudge him that, and she wasn't fully in love with him, anyway, so that was alright). When she was eighteen she broke her leg on a mission right before she was scheduled to take the jonin exams and had to sit them out until the next ones two years later (but boy, did she make the most of that time—she took second place in the tournament, losing in the final round to Naruto; she had to make him swear he wouldn't go easy on her, and he didn't).

Her current predicament was the curse of being born at such a time that she came of age during a war that claimed the lives of so many shinobi, thinning the population of numerous important clans.

This was the curse of being a medic during such a time.

Five years and a promotion to ANBU later, the downfall of one of Konoha's star kunoichi was the work of an unlikely, and unintending, architect. It wasn't Ino, whom Sakura was close to and would obviously be willing to make such a sacrifice for, wouldn't she, and didn't that Yamanaka take a lot of those old-style kunoichi missions? (Well that would make sense, she's so beautiful, so devastatingly feminine.) But Ino was smart, all things considered, and protected herself when she did undertake such missions. Sakura never worried about her.

It wasn't Tenten, who dated around and everyone whispered was a loose woman, but the truth was that only slept with a couple of her revolving door of boyfriends, and since the law was passed, none at all. She was too paranoid.

It wasn't Hinata either, whom no one would suspect and therefore someone might suspect, but it was nearer the mark.

It was Hyuuga Hanabi.

At twenty, Hanabi was every bit as beautiful and full-figured as her sister, but far more severe, closer in temperament to her father. She'd spent too much time under his particular care to be anything but. Unfortunately for him, two such obstinate people living under the same roof made for arguments of titanic proportions: Hanabi tugged at her leash, Hiashi fumed and yelled, and clever Hanabi found a more inventive way to rebel. It was only a matter of time before she crossed the line.

Sakura never knew why Hinata's sister came to her, Hinata's friend, when Hanabi must have known that Sakura was aware of the bad blood between them. Possibly the young woman was too frightened to go to anyone older for fear they'd tattle, though imagining Hyuuga Hanabi frightened certainly stretched the imagination upon speaking to her. She was brusque and clipped when she explained her situation, and when Sakura hesitated, Hanabi looked at her with her white eyes and informed Sakura condescendingly that she would pay for Sakura's services, if that was what the medic required.

Sakura bit back a nasty retort and was two seconds from sending the entitled little brat out the door, but Hanabi's haughtiness seemed awfully put upon, and there were parts of Sakura too compassionate not to notice. Instead of kicking her out, Sakura asked for her reason. She was her father's favorite, after all, and even though he was Branch, the guy was a part of her clan. It couldn't be that bad.

Hanabi was silent a moment, then said, "It would either be another one of Hinata or another of me, and what the hell would I want with that?"

Sakura studied Hanabi, and the younger woman looked away, jaw set defiantly. That one small motion spoke volumes. Sakura agreed and didn't take Hanabi's money when she was through.

Sakura was cursed, of course, and she should have known what the result of her action must be. Such was her luck that she was not the first medic to perform an illegal abortion since the Council outlawed the practice, but she was the first one caught.

(Hanabi took a heavy sequence of missions too soon, and there were complications: it was the only way anyone found out at all. She got sick, and scared, and she confessed all to her father.)

Hiashi raised hell. He got the entire House of Hyuuga into an uproar, the Branch and Main unified for once in their nasty history, leaning on the Council, calling for blood. Only too obliging, for now there was an example to be made, they had Haruno Sakura arrested and in custody before the day was out.

Sakura had taken lives before. She had taken the lives of the guilty, the sort-of-innocent, ninja and civilians alike, men, women, and once, a child. Being an agent of death was not something she particularly liked, but it wasn't something she particularly disliked, either. It simply came with the job, along with the tattoo and the mask. This time, it was somehow different. It was the first time she'd taken the life of an idea of a person, a fledgling thing untouched by anything but genetics and the womb. Something with unknown potential, like a stone in a hand before it was dropped into a river, and who knew what kind of kinetic force it could apply, how it would change the flow?

It felt like taking the threads of fate from the hands of the master at the loom, and Sakura faltered with them, unsure if she was messing up all of the hard work, if she'd done permanent damage.

Sakura snorted. She was starting to sound like Neji. Being on his ANBU team was clearly detrimental to her mental health.

So was prison.

Jail itself wasn't bad—Konoha's was rather nice, compared to others she'd spent time in, because at least they cleaned the toilet every once in a while. It was the isolation that was killing her. She was not allowed visitors. The Council worried that if she saw her friends, who were numerous, they might be more incited to kick up a fuss, or maybe plot an escape. It was a delicate balance, keeping her secluded enough that the population didn't sympathize with her, but making her arrest as public as possible to send a clear message.

She was sure her execution would be just as public.

It wasn't that she wasn't angry—she was, unspeakably so, because she had been nothing but unfailingly loyal to this village and this was how they repaid her?—but she couldn't keep herself distracted with going over her katas, reciting medical tomes verbatim in her head, planning various unpleasant deaths for the people who'd locked her up, forever. The novelty of such activities eventually wore off, and her fury fizzled out under the encompassing, oppressive loneliness. Sakura sunk deeper and deeper into uncharacteristic depression every day she was there. She hadn't seen a single person aside from her guards, and they were Root ANBU, as lively company as the stone walls themselves, so she didn't even try to interact with them. The only time she spoke to them was when she demanded the date and time, because she was starting to lose track of them. She was going to die and she was never going to get a chance to say her goodbyes and that upset her more than actually dying.

On what she was told was the sixth day of her imprisonment, the current guard was replaced by another, who opened her cell door and brought her food in. She played with the bracelets around her wrists, the things keeping her chakra in check, and didn't look up when he laid the tray on the floor.

The ANBU stood in front of the cot she was laying on, suddenly, and Sakura sat up warily. He extended his hand fractionally toward her and dropped a folded note into her lap. Confused and on her guard, she unfolded the paper to find a hastily scrawled note.

Granny is working on it 24/7.

I won't let them kill you, you can count on that.

Naruto.

Sakura's mouth split into a smile, and the action hurt a little. Before the ANBU turned to leave, she grasped his hand, relishing in the first human contact she'd had since she'd been taken to this god-forsaken place.

"Thank you," she told him, her voice cracking from disuse.

Sai faltered for a second, then squeezed her hand and told her "You're welcome."

A week later, Sakura had to marvel at Tsunade's stall tactics, whatever they might be. Surely the Council was anxious to get the affair done with. The longer she was kept out of the eyes of the village, the longer the citizens must be wondering what was happening. For her part, Sakura had stopped wondering days ago. She would never be resigned to this fate, but it was useless getting worked up over something over which she had no control.

It was very early on the morning of the fourteenth day of her imprisonment when the Hokage came down and visited her at last.

Sakura heard the clack of her high heels first, the rhythm sharp and staccato, the way they were when Tsunade was royally displeased. Sakura sat up on her cot, her legs dangling over the edge, as her mentor dismissed her guard. All of them knew he was not loyal in the least to the Hokage, but he could not outright defy her, either, and he vanished when he was ordered.

Tsunade unlocked and opened the door and did not close it behind her. She was holding a thin scroll in her hand, and without ceremony she spread it out over Sakura's lap. "Give me your hands," she said, and Sakura complied wordlessly. Tsunade knelt and turned them palm up, pressing Sakura's wrists into two circles formed on the paper with scrawling seals. Sakura glanced up questioningly, but Tsunade didn't say anything, just formed a dozen hand seals before placing her warm, rough palms against the bracelets. They grew white hot for a second before snapping open and falling away.

Sakura retracted her hands, rubbing where the bracelets had burned and chafed. She winced as her chakra returned along atrophied paths. It felt like pins and needles through all four of her limbs. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice so rough it hardly sounded like her.

Tsunade stood up. "There isn't a lot of time. I managed to get you a deal." Here she hesitated. Sakura glanced into her face and was surprised to see her master so obviously distraught.

"Tsunade-shishou, what is it?"

Tsunade took a breath. "I made them change the sentence. Instead of being put to death, you'll be exiled. You'll be listed as a missing-nin from the village and put in our bingo books."

This statement knocked the wind completely out of Sakura, and she was glad she was sitting. Her breath came back shallow, and she gripped the edge of her cot so tightly the metal began to creak. "No…"

Tsunade continued. "I couldn't get them to back down. This was the best I could do. It was the only thing I could do to save your life."

"I'd rather die," Sakura said, hardly aware of it. She rebelled so strongly and viscerally to the idea of being labeled a traitor of her village, she didn't fully comprehend what she was saying. "I'd rather die than this!"

"Don't say that!" Tsunade snapped, her voice shrill. "Don't you dare say that, Sakura! I don't like it any better than you do, but it's the only solution. Don't make me tell Naruto you'd rather give up than escape with your life."

Sakura winced. "Tsunade-shishou, how am I supposed to do this? I can't leave—I can't." Sakura stood suddenly and began to pace up and down the small cell. "I'll never be able to come home, and I can't survive as a missing-nin."

"Yes, you can," Tsunade said, "I trained you well enough. You are more than capable of it, and you know it. As for coming home…" Tsunade trailed off. "Obviously the Hyuuga can't be approached about it now, but you've got a lot of friends in high places in their clans, and some of the civilians are starting to mutter. It might take some time, but we'll get you home. Somehow, we'll clear your name, even if your teammates and I have to bash some heads in to do it."

Sakura swallowed. "You'll need to get the law repealed, and then get the council to vote that it had been unjust to secure me a pardon. That could take years."

"Yes," Tsunade replied, "so you'll need to keep your ears open and your head down."

"Oh, God," Sakura moaned, exhaling sharply. She stopped pacing and bowed her head, lacing her fingers together behind her neck. She was still breathing erratically, so she focused on being calm, taking deep breaths in and out, and took the time to think. Beyond her first, violent reaction against Tsunade's proposal, the rational part of her was quick to point out all the pros. It was a cold rationality, though, because no matter how much she told herself she got to live this way, her heart ached with the knowledge that it would be a paltry way to live, a half-life.

Finally, she lifted her head. "Okay," she said, "I'll do it."

Tsunade nodded. "Your teammates are already at your apartment, gathering what you'll need. They'll meet you at the gates. You need to go now, before it starts to get light." Tsunade paused, then strode forward and gripped Sakura's shoulders tightly. "Be safe."

Sakura smiled tremulously, then reached out her hands to grab Tsunade just above her elbows and squeeze back. "I will."

For once in his life, Kakashi was on time. He and Sai and Naruto were already just outside the village gates when she got there. She landed in front of them and for a full minute, no one said anything. It was a difficult thing to take in, that she would not see any of them for such a long time. Just the thought of the time that would pass before she'd be dragged from whatever she'd been doing to get ramen, before she'd have to get Sai out of trouble of his own making, before yelling at Kakashi for his lame excuses and general laziness—it was too much. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked furiously to hold them back.

Before any of them could react, she flung her arms around the closest: Sai. The poor man had no idea what to do with her, of course, so Sakura reminded him that the proper reaction was to hug her back, damn it. Sai did so, gingerly, not sure what kind of pressure he was allowed to apply, but it was enough for Sakura.

She released him after a moment and moved on to Kakashi. The man was so much taller than her, she hugged him around his chest and to reciprocate properly he had to lean down. The hug was awkward physically and emotionally, because they'd never been so close before, but it didn't matter to her.

Sakura had barely released him before Naruto had moved forward to sweep her into his arms, holding her so tight she thought he might break something. She didn't complain and hugged him back just as tightly, and she couldn't hold back the tear or two that leaked onto his obnoxious jacket.

"Watch your back," he whispered to her furiously. "Keep safe and I'll find a way of bringing you back, I promise you." His fierce determination gave her hope for the first time in two weeks, because Naruto was Konoha's number one most surprising ninja, and there was nothing he couldn't do when he wanted to. Her heart swelled with affection for him. She wanted to imprint everything about him firmly in her memory: the unnatural warmth of his body, the fabric of his jacket, his earthy scent. This would be her only chance.

"I will," she promised. "I'll be careful and I'll come back the second I can. I promise."

She let him go after a minute, and when she stepped back Kakashi handed her a stuffed pack and a dark, water-proof cloak with a hood. "Stay away from Sound and Stone," he advised her; "our hunters will likely try not to kill you, but theirs won't have any qualms. I wouldn't trust Root either. Keep in mind that if you're ever being pursued, the best place to hide is a city, the bigger the better."

Sakura nodded. "Thanks, Kakashi-sensei." She threw the pack over her shoulder and the cloak over her shoulders, clasping it around her neck. She reached up to throw the hood over head, but her fingers brushed the fabric of her forehead protector and she stopped cold.

Her forehead protector. She knew what was expected of a missing-nin: wear it or don't, but scratch out your village's symbol to symbolize your renunciation of your allegiance. She did not consider this a rejection of her village, but, with all that she'd suffered, she might be able to work up the anger to do it. All but her closest friends had turned on her, despite years of faithful service, after all. What did she owe this place?

Sakura had a sudden memory of that promise she'd made to Ino years ago that when she wore her forehead protector in its proper place across her forehead, she would never lose to her blonde friend as a kunoichi. If she scored out the etched leaf of Konoha, would she be worthy of that promise ever again?

Sakura yanked it out of her hair, not caring that it snagged in the back and ripped out several short pink hairs in the knot. She held it out to Naruto. "Please keep it safe for me," she said. "I'll want it back some day."

Her teammate grinned for the first time since she'd seen him tonight, and though it was night it lit her up like the sun. He took it from her and folded it carefully in his hands. "You bet, Sakura-chan."

God, what was she going to do without him?

She threw up her hood and took a step backwards, away from the village, and took it all in: the large, grand gates thrown open to the night, the village she'd always called home beyond, and her three boys before her.

She had something to come back to. That just might carry her through.

"I'm going to miss you guys terribly," she told them. "Please take care of yourselves, because I'm not going to be here to patch you up."

"Aw, Sakura-chan, your concern is cute," Kakashi quipped.

She sent him a mock glare, but she couldn't sustain it. She backed up a couple of more steps. "I love you all," she said with with a heartbreaking kind of finality. "Goodbye."

Sakura turned and darted off into the woods. If she'd stayed any longer, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to leave at all.

The first thing that Sakura learned as a missing-nin was that you ate whatever food you could, whenever you could. The second was that you didn't turn up your nose at places of lodging, either.

The third thing she learned was that kill or be killed applied everywhere, any time.

At first, life on the lam seemed an awful lot like an extended solo mission, which Sakura had been on once or twice. The most profound difference, at first blush, was purely psychological. She knew there was no home to return to, no safe haven to retreat to if things got bad, and it affected her way of thinking but didn't change the essentials of her situation much.

She learned her first lesson several weeks after she first left Konoha. She was still within Fire's borders at the time, reluctant to move out of the country. The only place she could find to eat in the backwaters little town served food she was convinced moved under its own power. She refused it and moved on, and found nothing else to eat for three days. She never repeated this mistake.

Sakura learned the second after she'd been chased over Fire's borders into River Country by ANBU patrols. The first town she came to had several inns, some of which charged by the hour and all of which looked ill-used. Because she didn't want to stay in such places, she spent perhaps the worst night of her life curled up in a sheltered doorway. She was sore all the next day, almost to the point of distraction, which was more dangerous to a missing nin than any enemy weapon. This happened twice more before Sakura decided that lowering her standards was worth spending the night in a bed when one was available.

She learned the third when she took a gamble and went north into Rain country (Fire to the east, Wind to the west, and the sea to the south, there was nowhere else to go). War inflicts many wounds, some visible, some not, and Rain seemed to be a country entirely composed of scar tissue. The landscape itself was ravaged, blasted and torn apart where enormous battles had taken place. Some of these sites were fresh and some of them were old, healing, and Sakura remembered what she'd learned of the country's history even before Pain made it the epicenter of his new world order of warfare. The people she met, too, were disfigured in body, mind, and heart. They were wary of strangers; Sakura received no kindness in this country. There was none to be extended, not after all they'd lived through.

With all the rain, it really did seem as though the country was drowned in tears.

Sakura got into a bar fight in this country. It was a scuffle started by a smart-mouthed chunnin, and Sakura dealt with the youth swiftly, leaving him unconscious on the floor. The next night he had rallied together some of his friends and tracked her down to reassemble his wounded pride. He was still of little consequence, but several of his friends were far more skilled than he and they had numbers on her. Backed into a corner and desperate, she unleashed her strength unchecked and ended up killing all of them. She was badly injured herself. She remembered Kakashi's advice through the haze of pain and blood loss and retreated to the largest city in the area, which turned out to be Amegakure. She stayed in the city for three days while she recuperated, and ironically, it was the safest she'd felt in the weeping country.

Days and weeks bled into months, and time became nothing more than a relative term.

There was little energy Sakura could spare on feeling sorry for herself, and she didn't spend much time dwelling on her sorry state, but when she did it was almost debilitating. Every once in a while, lying on a ratty bed or searching for a secure place in the wilderness to rest, she thought about what she was missing. Who was Ino seeing? How was Tsunade doing with all her paperwork? How old was Kurenai's son, again? Who was taking care of Kakashi when he came back from his missions half-dead, as usual? Had Hinata ever screwed up the courage to ask Naruto out? To stand up against her father? Who was continuing her work on Sai's social skills? (Naruto, most likely. The two of them were going to get in so much trouble). She thought and wondered and it hurt so much.

For a long time, she carried her last image of Konoha like a photograph pressed close to her heart. When she was absolutely mad with loneliness, the half-contact she was making with other people—touching them, perhaps, but not really touching them—she remembered it and the knowledge that it was there to return to, maybe, one day, was reassurance enough.

It worked for a while, but like a drug used too often its effectiveness wore off, and eventually a critical mass was reached. Thinking of that last image evolved until was no longer a comfort, but a bitter reminder of what she no longer had. She tried telling herself that she'd return one day, but could only be so optimistic. Day after day dragged on and on and the well gradually dried up. Sakura stared up at strange hotel ceilings and foreign skies and became more convinced that for all Naruto's determination and Tsunade's fierce loyalty, there was a distinct possibility she'd never see Konoha again. Hoping she might became less bittersweet and evolved into being simply bitter. The longer she lived like this, in forced exile, the harder it became to hope that she might ever return at all, so she stopped doing it altogether.

Seven months flowed past like water, and the fine details of her friends' features became softer and less defined in her memory, as though that part of her brain had atrophied from disuse.

Naruto's face, though, never dulled.

Sasuke's never had, either.

She was near Waterfall's border with Grass when it happened.

It was late fall. Grass was cold and she'd pushed hard to get over the border. Not long after she'd crossed it started raining, too, so by the time she arrived in the first town she could find she was soaked through and chilled to the bone.

Sakura found the only inn in town and purchased a room for the night. It was a rickety-looking place and the room she was given was small, but it looked relatively clean, which was an improvement over other places she'd been. She dumped her pack and briefly debated which was more pressing, the desire for a shower or the fact that she hadn't eaten in 26 hours. Her stomach promptly groaned and she snorted humorlessly. Her decision made for her, she left her room and made her way to the bar downstairs.

It was a dingy sort of place, sparsely decorated, and it appeared as though whatever demographic it wanted to appeal to, it had been taken over by a rough clientele. The main room was decently sized and half-full, and though Sakura did her best to weave through the crowd unobtrusively, most of the patrons were men. Her face couldn't be seen clearly but heads followed her distinctly feminine figure all the way to the bar. She plopped down in a bar stool and ordered hot sake and food.

While she waited, she threw back her hood, shook out her hair. Other people might have done everything they could to hide such a distinct color, but the way Sakura figured it, if someone she would have to worry about was going to find her it they were going to do anyway. There was a certain kind of fashion for dying one's hair bright colors; she probably wasn't going to be discovered solely because someone saw a girl with pink hair.

Sakura tried to ignore all the chatter going on behind her back, but such was the paranoia that came with being a renegade that she couldn't. Most of the crowd had gone back to their previous conversations, though a pair not far from her was none-too-subtly speculating about how she'd be in the sack. A year ago her less restricted side would have howled for blood, but she'd heard too much of the same to do anything more than roll her eyes. Like they'd be able to handle me, a little voice in her head supplied, and Sakura scoffed at herself.

Not like she'd had any action in ages.

That thought took her off guard, and she shook her head as if to physically sweep such licentious thoughts away.

Her food and drink came and she distracted herself with that.

Sakura was nearly finished with her meal when she realized that something was off. The crowd was still humming behind her and her back was turned to the room, so she couldn't see anything, but instinct had all the hairs on the back of her neck standing on edge. She knew, deep down, that this was not going to be the restful evening she'd hoped for.

She didn't flinch when a large, masculine hand clapped down on her shoulder.

"Well, well, well," a deep voice said, "what have we here?"

A walking cliché, apparently, Sakura thought sardonically. She didn't answer him.

Her lack of response obviously irritated him. "Girl, I'm talking to you," he growled.

Finally, she deigned to look over her shoulder at him. "Obviously, as you've got your hand on my shoulder," she retorted. He was a big guy, which didn't scare her, but he was wearing a scratched-out forehead protector. More importantly, so were the six guys flanking him.

Well, shit.

Several different hidden villages were represented behind her. This wasn't strange. Sometimes lower-level missing-nin would band together and go through bingo books, hunting down bigger game and splitting the bounty. Individually, they weren't extraordinarily threatening, but they were strong in numbers. How long had they been tracking her?

The ringleader of this pack, originally from Iwa, apparently, whistled. "Found one with a mouth on her, didn't we?" he chortled. "Wonder if that's why Sound's got such a handsome bounty on her."

Sound, huh? What could they want with her? But Sakura didn't dwell on this, because she was too busy extending her senses, trying to get a handle on her assailants' chakra levels. If she caught one or two of them off guard, she'd probably be able to get control of the situation… She turned to the bar again. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied.

The head thug leaned over her, trying to intimidate her with his size and proximity, maybe, and thrust an open bingo book in her face. "Oh, I think you do, girlie—"

Sakura took her chance.

She threw back her elbow and struck him in his sternum, applying enough force to shatter the bone and collapse one of his lungs. Before he'd even hit the ground she was up and whirling around, kunai in hand, and had stabbed the nearest one in the heart.

One of them, quicker on his feet than the rest, rushed her, going for her side with a kunai of his own. She deflected his arm up and spun under it, grabbing the back of his vest in both her hands. She braced her feet against the floor and used his own momentum and her monstrous strength to throw him against a wooden column near the bar, which cracked with the impact as his spine snapped.

Two more leapt forward, but Sakura drew the ANBU-issued katana she kept hidden under her cloak, the steel still ringing when she pointed the razor sharp tip against their advance. They halted, uncertain.

"If you don't want to end up like your friends, I'd leave and forget you ever saw me," she advised. It was a little bit of a gamble. She was better than these punks, but indoors she couldn't use the full range of her abilities, and she was certainly no sword master. She had to hope her little display had scared them enough.

Her threat worked. The four remaining bounty hunters traded glances between them and their fallen comrades and visibly came to the decision that Sakura was not worth the trouble. First one, and then the rest, vanished.

Sakura breathed a sigh of relief, running her fingers through her hair and sheathing her katana again. She turned back towards the bar to find the bartender, also the owner of the inn, scowling at her.

"What do you mean, starting a fight in here?" he demanded. Sakura opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She felt sheepish. She hadn't given a thought to property damage; he had every right to be angry.

The owner looked a little queasy, standing up to a ninja, but he pushed through his fear in the face of monetary loss. "Who's going to pay for that?" he asked, pointing at the column. "I don't want any more trouble. I want you out."

Sakura tried to say something, but couldn't. She was still trying to come to her own defense when—

"Put it on our tab," came a booming voice from the corner. "Let her stay. I'll pay for it, if she'll come sit with us for a while."

Sakura whirled toward the voice, and—

Oh, fuck.

The owner still seemed disgruntled, but relented under the promise of recompense. "Fine, then."

The man who'd spoken grinned and waved his hand, mockingly, beckoning her to his table.

Cold dread, like Sakura hadn't felt in years, slithered down her spine and settled nauseatingly in her stomach.

Her rescuer was Hosigaki Kisame.

Seated next to him was Uchiha Itachi.

Please let me know what you think :)