Mercurial

Their attraction was simply mercurial; slippery, hot, and intangible. She couldn't handle it. PeinSaku

...

...

Buildings crumbled to dust, places she had known since childhood were reduced to rubble within seconds, like some hand of a great, forgotten Kami had reached down and wiped away everything she knew and loved in seconds.

The last two things Sakura saw that day (that hated day) were a flash of orange and the ground rushing up to meet her.

...

...

Ame, or Rain, was obviously named by some uninventive, uninspired soul, but one who certainly went for the most defining aspect of the place. The other competitor's for the title might have been Grey, or Dank, or Neglect. If Sakura had anything to say about this it would have been named Misery, Hatred, or just plain old Urgh on a slightly good day.

The first thing she saw when she woke from a drug induced stupor was grey. More grey than she was sure she had ever seen in her entire life. As though she had suddenly gone colour-blind; grey sky, grey ground, grey metal buildings stretching so high they seemed to meld with the sky, the grey swirling eyes of the Akatsuki Leader peering down at her.

It could have been classified as one of those situations where something like a choice is presented in front of you, but in reality you have about as much leeway and as many options as a battery chicken crammed in a tiny cage; squawking among many thousands of individuals, lying in your own shit and used solely as a kind of one organism production line. A machine only kept to produce, produce, produce until the eggs dried up and suddenly you found yourself as the centrepiece to some charming families' Sunday Roast... as trussed up in death as you were in life.

But, maybe, Sakura later mused - scratching another line to add to the growing collection on her wall - she would find a way out that wasn't straight into the greedy, bloodstained claws of the slaughterhouse.

Then again, that seemed about as likely as that battery chicken suddenly learning how to fly.

At the time, she tried to spit at him. Her limbs were too bound to do anything else, and her chakra was still inhibited by the drug that she could feel coursing through her system like a swarm of red hot ants in her veins. The most pathetic thing was that her mouth was too dry to do much more than pucker her lips at him - she was dangerously dehydrated, you must understand.

He had seen this and rather than mock her or hit her, as she had expected, he had given her a drink from his own water canteen. Tipping it up with willowy fingers and such care to make sure that it was just enough to drink and not enough to choke or splutter on. He spoke all the while - words fuzzy and indistinct and thick in her mind.

Suitably hydrated and refreshed, Sakura had proceeded to spit properly at him and then promptly pass out.

...

The next time Sakura drew into consciousness it was far more leisurely - a slow movement that was more like strolling down a slight decline, rather than being forcibly pushed off of a mountain.

Sensations flourished into being around her; the smooth texture of wood beneath her fingertips, the slight sinking of something soft supporting her rear, the faintest scent of something musky, but not at all unpleasant, and lastly a quiet commanding voice easily heard over the constant patter of raindrops against glass.

"Welcome to Ame - I didn't think you were well enough to register that last time."

Her eyes snapped open with enough force to make her still muggy head spin - flashing green orbs narrowed almost to slivers in an instant. The lighting was in the room was soft, almost so much so that it caused deteriorated visibility, and yet he still seemed to glow. The crown of orange hair that surrounded his head like a halo of fire seemed to attract and reflect every beam of light. Sakura found herself unable to look away though he had done nothing but sit there - behind a plain wooden desk.

"My name is Pein, but usually those in my employ call me Leader."

She moved to stand, but found herself pinned by some force she couldn't see. Chakra. His chakra - the fact registered slowly in her mind - was stronger than any shackles she had ever encountered and it wasn't solid, so she couldn't break it with her own chakra enhanced strength. Despite the fact that her mind was working furiously, she could not work out how he had done it; his hands had remained motionless so no seals had been made, and Sakura had never heard of a jutsu that created a force strong enough to pin, but not to crush, with nothing... nothing but air, it would seem. This was highly sophisticated ninjutsu.

Gritting her teeth, she fought the helplessness that welled up inside of her. Pein seemed content to sit there, almost relaxed, calmly waiting for her to speak. She wanted to spit at him again and see his reaction this time, wanted to rip those unblinking grey eyes out with her bare fingers, wanted to peel out those piercings one by one and slice him to shreds with them, but she was utterly immobilised.

"I don't want anything from you. Least of all your welcome," she finally responded, to his first statement.

Sakura didn't even want to think of the implications of the second.

He shrugged his shoulders in a barely perceptible movement - nothing he did was wasteful, no energy was expanded unnecessarily. His strange ringed eyes blinked shut for a long moment as he seemed to compose himself - perhaps mentally run over what he was about to say so that no words were misplaced. It occurred to her that he looked so much younger like that - far less distant.

"Despite what you may think, what you want is important here," Pein stated, without opening his eyes.

The emphasis placed on the word here was not missed by Sakura. Her hackles raised at the sign of any insult to Konoha - intended or not.

"Destroying my home, killing those I love, kidnapping and drugging me obviously demonstrates that."

The full force of his gaze hit her like a physical blow when he reopened his eyes - she found herself wanting to look away, but almost being unable to. Her eyes continually darted to the side, but returned to him almost in the same instant. Tsunade's teachings about never looking away from the enemy were what she truly wanted to say caused that, but truthfully it felt like more of a compulsion than a decision.

"Pain is a necessary part of life. In time you will realise that this was better."

"The end justifies the means?" Sakura hissed, scathingly, anger crawling in her stomach like something alive.

Pein inclined his titian head in agreement - seemingly ignoring the spite and sarcasm that dripped darkly from her words.

"I did tell you my offer before, but now I feel it would be advisable to allow you some time to adjust. I would like for your decision to be made with full knowledge and free will."

Sakura was unsure what was worse; a deluded megalomaniac causing her suffering while genuinely thinking he was doing the right thing, or someone actively trying to make her life as miserable as possible without any questionable morals to hide behind.

"It's not like I have a choice," she half-shouted, voice quivering with anger.

The thought that everyone she knew could be long dead by now and she didn't even know stormed through her mind - mixing with the anger to form a caustic mix of emotions that were probably pouring from her in waves. She wanted to cry - could feel the hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes - but knew that it was completely pointless and not something that she wanted Pein to see. All of the fight drained from her in an instant, and she wanted to crawl into a dark, deserted corner - like a cat, she preferred to lick her wounds far from prying eyes.

As though sensing her thoughts, Pein was in front of her faster than she could blink - the chakra pressing her down released. His eyes were even more striking close up and his hair seemed to be the only colour in the room apart from the blood red splatters on his cloak. She recoiled slightly, teeth bared. Sakura expected him to touch her, though she wasn't sure why. Her eyes flickered between his pale, grave face and his slack, slender hands.

"I give you a week."

His index finger twitched as though he was pulling the trigger of an imaginary gun and Sakura instantly fell deep into unconsciousness.

...

By this point Sakura had quickly grown weary of being forced into unconsciousness - it also did not bode well for her health.

She closed her eyes tightly - listening intently - before cracking open her eyes. She had expected a cell; shackles, questionable toilet facilities, ever present drip, moss and damp and of course a squeaking, stained mattress. Instead, it seemed more like a guest room than anything else. A neutral colour scheme, decent sized double bed with a metal frame, a window, a desk, a bookshelf and a wardrobe all met her searching eye.

Around both of her wrists were light, finely wrought metal bands. The metal was lighter than any she had ever encountered before and was covered in a variety of symbols which flared red like a warning every time she tried to use chakra. After some experimentation (and many failures) Sakura was satisfied that she could only use chakra on herself, and not very much of it. Just enough to heal small wounds, not enough to fuel her chakra-enhanced strength.

Flopping back down onto the disgustingly comfortable bed she scowled at the ceiling and wondered what the hell she was going to do now. The lack of knowledge - of Konoha, of everyone - clawed at her gut like a wild beast; an insatiable ache that did nothing but build and build. She stood and paced restlessly - moving from the door to the window with solid steps.

There was no clock. The sky was grey and overcast enough that it could be anytime from very early morning to very late afternoon.

Still, people scurried about in a thin sliver of street that she could see beyond the walls and metal and wires, so it was probably more towards midday. The window itself was thin and fine - made of many tiny panels of slightly different square and rectangular glass shapes melded together - but the seal over it was stronger than steel.

Further exploration found a bathroom with a small window, bath, shower and sink. A fluffy white towel hanging over a rail. Tiny soaps shaped like seashells, sweet smelling shampoo and conditioner, a brush with a gleaming embossed metal, a mirror surrounded with metal so shiny it was almost reflective itself. No razors, or anything else sharp that might have been found in a normal bathroom. The mirror was sealed like the windows so that it couldn't be broken for a sharp edge. The lights were set firmly in the ceiling so that there nothing to hang a rope from - or, perhaps an improvised set of bed sheets.

Sakura noticed this, along with the mother of pearl patterns set into the bathroom walls and thought that even the tiles were probably sealed. They most definitely wanted her alive. But why? She stalked back into the bedroom and prowled the entire room for some sign of... she didn't exactly know what. Something. The drawers in the desk were empty save for two pens and a blank notebook wrapped in soft white leather with a delicate silver ribbon used to close it.

The bookcase was almost full - everything was medicine, sealing, or Tailed Beast related save for a few scrolls on the history of Ame. The wardrobe smelled of pine and was large enough to stand in. Inside were a few outfits - a black dress, a white medic's skirt, a dark zippered top, baggy shinobi trousers, a dark kimono with white trees, and a huge raincoat.

Everything was neutral coloured down to the white coat hangers. It was as though they were afraid of colour.

Tiny drawers were also inside the wardrobe - their handles set with mother of pearl and beautifully shaped metal. Each one held something different; bandages, fabric elbow and knee covers, hairpins with dulled edges, three white and three black bras with matching underwear, gloves - fingerless, leather, reinforced fabric. She closed the door with a slam and returned to pacing. It felt as though hours had passed, but the edgy crawling feeling of being watched never left.

Sakura imagined his eyes; swirling and unblinking staring from every surface.

Eventually, she stepped straight into the wardrobe, slid to the floor and closed the doors. Encompassed in the darkness and the smell of pine that reminded her burningly, achingly, of the forest around Konoha Sakura finally allowed herself to cry. The hot bitter tears streamed down her face in salty trails that nipped and stung. She remained unsure whether they were in mourning or in anger.

When the tears stopped, she stayed there for a while; curled in on herself in the darkness silently plotting.

Days had passed definitely - probably around eight, maybe more and maybe less. She couldn't do anything in particular without information and she had no idea how she could get it here. Escaping was always a goal, if not particularly a possibility. Killing Pein - and the rest of his filth - was almost a temptation. He had said that she had a week, but for what she wasn't sure. Whatever they wanted from her was still a mystery - an unknown quality that could alter the scales dramatically.

And she didn't even know how long it had been since he declared that... An hour? A day? Time had become distant and elastic and the more she thought about it the more restless she became. When Sakura finally started to feel stiff from her huddled position, her thoughts drew to the more immediate problem. Namely that she absolutely reeked. Sweat, blood, dirt and Kami knows what else still covered her.

Still, that was preferable to someone changing her while she was unconscious. That thought made a fine tremor run through her thoughts.

Kicking open the door, she stretched and peered at the foggy light streaming through the window that still somehow managed to bother her darkness-adjusted eyes. The ever-present, ever-depressing rain still drummed at the windows like a thousand tiny fingers. Stripping as she walked, she climbed into the tub and cranked up the heat for the shower as far as it would go.

It was easy to forget for a while - as the steam clouded her vision - that she was standing naked in the domain of an arch enemy and not in her cosy, crappy little bathroom back in Konoha.

And, as it turned out, Sakura hadn't entirely imagined the feeling of eyes watching her.

...

Turning his head, the moment a glimpse of far too much pale flesh registered in his line of vision Pein moved to dull the screen propped at the end of the long table. A long suffering sigh registered from his right hand side and he had to fight not to allow any derision seep into his expression.

"Ever pious, Nagato?" An amused, masculine voice sneered. "Are the sins of the flesh just too much to bear?"

Keeping his expression flat and neutral, he continued to sign mission sheets, cash flow balances and several of the many other sheets clamouring for his attention. He chose not to answer his smirking comrade. Despite the garish orange mask covering his face, his feline grin of amusement was completely and utterly obvious. Uchiha Madara made a show of examining his willowy gloved fingers while feigning disinterest.

"Madara," Pein murmured eventually, voice laced with steel, "Is there something in particular you need?"

He leaned backward until only two feet of the chair were still touching the ground and made an expansive gesture with his covered arms, before tucking them snugly behind his head, just brushing the now close cropped hair, "Besides watching that... enticing show and overseeing the running of my organisation... I would have to reply a negative."

Pein himself would not have called the show enticing. Haruno Sakura had done nothing but wander the rooms like a caged animal - expressions morphing from anger to fear to sorrow and back again faster than it almost seemed possible. She had then proceeded to catalogue every item in the room down to the last carpet fibre before curling up inside the wardrobe like a frightened child.

Something in her manner had almost irritated him; the strong edgy set of her shoulders, the brittle snap of her hips and thump of her feet as she walked. He wanted to force her to straighten and relax; wanted her staccato movements to smooth for some reason. Her crying roused no emotions; no pleasure, or anger. It was clear her thoughts were overflowing and he would rather she cried alone and gained control over herself now, than when he would visit her.

"Stay away from her, Madara."

He shrugged, and let the chair fall with a muffled thud, "You have informed me thrice of this request of yours." He held up three slim fingers, waving them mockingly close to Pein's face. "I am aware that you wish that I have no contact with her. I will not seek this kunoichi out. On my honour."

The Sharingan glinted within the hole of the mask like a firefly within the depths of a cave.

"However, if she seeks me honour will have no part in it."

...

Stepping out from the shower, Sakura quickly towelled her hair and wrapped the fluffy fabric securely around herself.

She felt infinitely more serene when she walked into the cooler bedroom; her sharp senses immediately picking up on the two pieces of paper on the floor by the door that had not been there before. Someone must have slid them through the small gap while she was showering. Stooping, she regarded them for a moment - head tilted, wet hair hanging in thick curtains - but picked them up when she was satisfied they weren't rigged, poisoned or explosive.

This room and everything in it is yours. You are welcome here. Dinner is at 6.00 p.m. Someone will come for you, but you may familiarise yourself with the map provided. Pein.

His handwriting was long and spidery - slanted slightly to the right - and juxtaposed sharply with the short, blunt sentences that made up the note. She had noticed that he spoke like that anyway - almost stilted, as though he was holding back, but didn't expect his writing to reflect it. On another piece of smooth, high quality paper was a small map - painstakingly draw and detailed with squares marking doors, a circle within a door marking one to the outside and 'x's marking staircases. He had obviously drawn it himself despite the ruler straightness of the lines - the writing at the top was exactly the same - and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

On one corner there was a smudged fingerprint - the only evidence so far that his was human enough to err.

Sakura straightened with a deep frown creasing her large forehead. This 'dinner' didn't seem like an option and she was sure he wouldn't accept a refusal. The image of herself being dragged sopping wet and still in a towel down to a formal meal was disturbing enough to encourage her to dry herself quickly and move over to the wardrobe.

The Kimono was probably the only thing appropriate - she lingered on the black dress for a moment, but it was clearly a sturdy piece of combat gear rather than eveningwear. Pulling it gently from the hanger, she peeled the layers apart and thanked Tsunade's brief, traumatising lessons on culture and etiquette. The thin cotton sheath was the first to go on after the underwear and the white, plain tabi socks. Next, she slipped on the heavy, silk Kimono - the fabric pooling at her feet like a puddle of ink.

Cursing, she tried to remember how to fold it to the right length - her hands fumbling with the thick slippery fabric that refused to cooperate. She piled the snow white obi onto the bed sheets and continued to tug and arrange the fabric that just would not sit right. Eventually she gave up, momentarily, and sat on the bed. Perhaps he would laugh at her - walking down trailing fabric behind her with the Kimono opened up like it had been cut.

Then again, it didn't seem like the Akatsuki Leader had much of a capacity for humour.

Her thoughts were disturbed by a single, sharp knock on the door. Sakura stiffened, watching, unable to feel any presence. The knock was repeated - slightly louder this time. After the third time, Sakura came to terms with the fact that whoever was there wasn't leaving. Wrapping the fabric of the kimono around herself she moved to open it - standing a measured distance back.

A tall figure stood motionless at the threshold. The hair colour and unblinking spiral eyes were identical to Pein's, but this was clearly not him; unless his hair had grown exponentially, his face had taken on a more slender, delicate edge and the piercings had changed. No pleasantries were exchanged as Sakura tried to work out exactly what to do; whether to begin with a caustic insult, to slam the door in his face...

The stranger made the decision for her launching straight into conversation with - confusingly enough - a deep voice that sounded exactly like the Akatsuki Leader's, "The Kimono is troubling you?"

Was it that obvious that she was utterly hopeless? Frowning, Sakura took a small step back and pointedly did not invite him into the room. Silence stretched between them - as, like Pein - this person seemed content to stare at her as though trying to bore a hole in her head until she answered. "A little."

"I will assist you."

Sakura clenched her fist so tightly that her fingernails left crescent shaped imprints on her palms. She stared for a long moment before turning dismissively to present her back. "Do what you like." She huffed.

No movement from behind her. She resisted the urge to shoot a quizzical look over her shoulder.

Finally, he spoke, "May I enter?"

Definitely not Pein, then. She was sure he would never ask something like that, would just take. Slightly mollified, her voice softened a fraction. "You may." It was possible that she might be able to wring some much desired answers from this person before she tried to wring his neck.

"Are you a relation to Leader?" Sakura asked, in an attempt to dispel the nerves and prickling distrust that crept up as he began to methodically gather and fold the fabric draped around her. She told herself she wasn't at all curious.

"You could say that." Was the eventual answer.

When she realised that he smelled pleasant - fresh and clean, like the ground just after rainfall and not at all like the staleness of her room - she was forced to practically stop breathing for a moment in self-punishment. Nothing about these people was good. She shuddered slightly when his icy cold hands brushed her neck as he carefully folded back the collar.

"Apologies," he said, breath brushing her hair in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, "Pass the Obi."

She did, but was careful not to touch him. Sakura stared down at the front of the Kimono as he began the difficult task of folding and tying the volumous Obi around her slender waist. Black for mourning. Trees for Konoha. She wondered if he left her this particular Kimono with irony in the gesture, with sadistic amusement in his thoughts. A way of indirectly salting her wounds.

That thought still burned white-hot as she watched the pale hands smoothly adjust the fabric swathed around her - starkly pale in contrast to the blackness of the kimono; like moonlight in the dark night sky. A large part of her wanted to snap each one of those deceptively slender fingers off one by one.

"Why am I here?" Her voice was brittle and caustic - the hands at her sides paused momentarily.

"Leader will explain to you if you ask, Haruno-san."

"I want nothing from him." Was her reply - resentment dripping from every syllable.

He moved to stand in front of her - expression near blank, but still somehow making her feel like a petulant child. In his hands were a pair of high, formal sandals - vertigously tall with a thin black silk strap to slip between her toes. She hadn't seen him holding them before, and that thought put her on edge. What surprised her even more, however, was when he stooped onto one knee, placing each shoe before her and carefully manoeuvring her dainty feet into place.

She was so shocked, in fact, that the idea to kick him in the jaw didn't even surface.

This most definitely was not Pein then. Despite the matching hair, eyes and voice. He asked if she was ready to go and Sakura hesitantly answered an affirmative. Despite her earlier statement she almost craved answers. The corridor she was lead onto was dark and quiet - even the sound of rain was banished. She stayed a few steps behind her guide - hands constantly brushing over the shackles at her wrist.

Seven flights of stairs and endless twists later and she was glad she had tucked the little map into her Obi. The room she was lead into was long and thin with a huge table dominating most of the space and a plethora of empty chairs. Floor to ceiling bay windows showed an almost panoramic view of the drizzle shrouded buildings below. Sakura deliberately looked at the view for as long as possible before turning to regard the man seated alone at the table.

He occupied one of the side chairs, near the centre, rather than the head seat she had expected him to take. Numerous dishes and plates littered the table in front of him and she noticed that a place had already been set up - presumably for her. There was nothing there for anyone else though - worryingly enough.

"Aren't you...?" Sakura turned, addressing vacant space.

Apparently her guide had saw fit to leave. Scowling, and feeling more than a little nervous, she turned back to watch Pein. He lifted the lid of one of the dishes so that all of the pent up steam poured off it in spiralling waves that reminded her irritatingly of his eyes. He cast a glance in her direction.

"This will become cold if you do not join me soon. I am sure you are famished."

And she was, not that she'd admit it. Shuffling over, Sakura carefully kept herself facing him at all times before sliding carefully into the seat. Sakura loathed his calm - features completely undisturbed, chakra tranquil. His hand didn't shudder as he moved to fill her glass with a sweet, crisp smelling liquid like a proper respectful host. For a moment, she hesitated. Then lifted the jug herself and filled his glass as a polite guest should.

Her hands shuddered so violently with repressed emotion that the liquid almost sloshed over the side.

Willing herself to be still, she snapped her chopsticks and began eating with her eyes on the food. She soon noticed that she appeared to be the only one eating - looking up, she saw Pein with his head resting casually on one hand, those hideous mercurial eyes fixed firmly on her.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, suspicion rising like the steam pouring from the delicious food in front of her, "Or does a deity like you not require meals?"

He ignored her jibe with his usual serenity - merely blinking at her and answering the question as though it was not purely a rhetorical one filled with spite. "I have already eaten. It would have been rude of me not to attend to you."

"There are many other things you have done that could be considered more than merely rude."

Pein seemed to be able to completely ignore any biting comment she made towards him, much to her chagrin. Sakura stabbed viciously at the delicate, delicious, lightly stir-fried vegetables on her plate - vaguely considering stopping eating in protest, but knowing in actuality it would be more effective to keep her strength up should any opportunity for escape or attack arise.

Silence stretched taunt as a bowstring and Sakura's temper had never had a particularly long fuse. His gaze made her want to squirm away - the weight behind it was suffocating.

"Are you going to play host all night, or are you going to tell me why I am here? Or is there some kind of poison," she gestured furiously at the plates on the table, "in this that you're waiting to take effect, huh?"

This time, Sakura actually did give into her violent impulses - catching the bottom of the table with both hands and half-tipping, half launching the entire thing in his direction. Had she been in possession of all of her chakra, the move would have been far more impressive, but she managed well enough with her own strength. The table paused in its flight through mid-air - everything still as though they were in a film that had been paused. Pein held a single hand up - chakra radiating from him in waves.

Grasping one of the jugs hovering in mid-air she threw it at his head with enough force to break bones - more for the satisfaction of rebellion than injuring.

It felt as though the air closed in on her like the jaws of a giant beast. No part of her body could move because of the vice-like grip every part of her felt trapped in. Sakura felt the force of his raw strength of his chakra slamming against her in the instant it took him to reign in his control.

"I am God." He stated with the weight and fervour of a fanatic, despite his calm measured tone. "My will is divine."

Pein spread his arms expansively - turning to look out across the city. "Only once the world has experienced pain can peace prevail. You will come to understand this, Haruno Sakura, if you have not already."

It took all of her will to wrench her mouth open enough to speak - the rest of her body firmly bound in place.

"If you are a God, then I will turn away from religion forever. You sick..." It felt as though her jaw was being glued together, her tongue thick and heavy as she spat out the next words - with his eyes burning into her, "sick, manipulative, sadistic bastard!"

"You have six days before you must make a decision," he stated, eyes burning like silver fire.

On what? Her mind screamed, but she couldn't speak.

The pressure increased until blackness crept up the sides of her vision and her face felt hot - like all the blood in her body was being forced into her head, like Pein was slowly crushing her from the inside out. Blackness swamped her like a tidal wave.

Sakura was truly sick of being forced into unconsciousness.

...

Never tried this pairing before. Pein is crazy hard to write. Craaazy hard. Probably just one more bit of this to go.

Thanks for reading,

Silver ~ x