A/N: I was lamenting how long it takes me to write and then I saw I was at 6k words and not even done yet. Turning out a 3k worded chapter doesn't really feel worth it though. Also... I feel bad for people who read this as soon as I update because, despite editing a number of times before posting, I miss so many typos/random words are left out, and don't notice them until editing again on this website.

Chapter 7

"Shh, shhhh," He brushes falling hair out of her face and wipes rolling tears from her cheeks that she didn't know were there. "You don't mean that, he's gone, he won't hurt you anymore."

"He might come back—"

"He won't."

"You don't know that. He might—"

"I'd never let him. I'm a shinobi too, y'know," He is trying to smile in a comforting way but it misses its mark.

"Can't you just get rid of him? He'd be less dangerous if he were—"

"It will never come to that. I promise. Now you are safe." There is a firm squeeze on her shoulders and again, he is stroking her hair as if she is injured and broken. Maybe she is, because she can't quite remember the way she's supposed to react. Would she normally smile at this point?

"You promise?"

He nods and she has to blink several times because his eyes are flickering between cerulean and amber. Is his hair brown or yellow? If she can just see the lines on his cheeks or the signature bright dye of his jacket. She squints, trying to clarify her vision but it remains blurry.

"What colour are your clothes?"

"Sakura-san?"

"Tell me. I cannot see clearly. What colour?" She presses, bunching a hand in the fabric of his shirt and trying to stop the room from spinning. She feels her body is growing weaker. If only she had the power to protect herself.

"Navy shirt and khaki pants…" The voice trails off uncertain. There is more concern in his voice now.

Her shoulders drop slightly and hands fall. Not orange then. Not cerulean. Not Naruto.

"People have made promises in the past," Now she cannot look at him because she feels guilty and no small amount of disappointment. Whichever one is stronger is impossible to tell. Even she does not know.

"You silly girl," He tries to joke before pulling her back into a tight embrace, "I never break my promises." As she buries her head against his chest, she cannot help but frown.

If only she was silly enough to believe in people's promises anymore.

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Every day she is pretending.

It is not simply a tool for survival. She is losing herself and who she used to be. While she doesn't want to be the same person she was back then, she worries about the person she is becoming. She has been weak in the past but not entirely helpless. At least she could use her wit or train her body to strengthen her resolve and pose more of a threat. Now she can do nothing except pretend and hope that, maybe, enough pretending can cure whatever is wrong with her.

She doesn't want to feel this way. Angry at the world and wanting to lash out. There is an incomparable feeling swelling in her stomach; one that tells her it was not enough to hear promises that she will never see that guard again. She can do nothing about Sasuke. She never could. But something tells her that she has to do something to stop others from doing the same.

Maybe if she just pretended…

The door creaks open to reveal soft, amber eyes.

"Good morning," She breathes gently. Pretending that she didn't call him Naruto a day prior.

"Is the weather nice? It seems you've got a tan?" Her questions are light and in a sing-songy voice; the way she thinks her voice used to be. Still pretending that she did not ask him to kill for her.

When he smiles warmly and presses a cup of hot tea to her lips, she also pretends that she doesn't notice the concerned look –pity– in his eyes.

"Ay, the sun is shining brightly," He tucks loose stands of hair behind her ear. She is about to ask him another question when he presses the cup back to her lips, "Drink. It'll make you feel better."

She thinks he is trying to drown her pretending with tea.

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The next day her savior is back. This time wrapping bandages and padding around her badly bruised hand. The cut has crusted over but everywhere else is swollen and discoloured. Her fingers are stiff and cause too much pain to move. When he asks if it hurts badly, she shakes her head and pretends that the pain is nothing.

"The nurses tell me a break like this will take several weeks to heal," he is focused on wrapping her finger up gently and not causing further injury even though she is glaring at her hand and willing it not to tremor so that she doesn't come across as a liar.

Silently she nods, acting as though she does not already know this since, as lame as her body has become, she still has medical knowledge stored somewhere in the back of her head.

"I'm sorry," His voice is serious as he shakes his head. "If we were allowed to bring people up here, I would have one of the nurses heal this with chakra instead. I'm not very good at this."

"It's okay," She watches him work slowly for a moment before attempting to smile; "You're here now."

The awkward smile is met with a pained response. Rather than return it, he keeps shaking his head.

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In the night, when she is not plagued with nightmares, she keeps practicing her smile.

Maybe one day it will mean something.

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"What kind of things used to make you laugh, Sakura-san?"

The question is asked in the midst of her chewing on a piece of beef, which she is thankful for because the answer is hard to come by and requires much thought.

"I suppose," She begins slowly with brows knit together in deep concentration, "My friends."

It is not a subject they broach often. His stories and daily adventures are far more entertaining to her.

The young male shifts in the chair, leaning back on its hind legs as he frequently liked to do, "And?" He pushes her to think, "What'd they do to make you laugh?"

All she can think of is Naruto's dumb face, grinning up at her with his arms locked behind his back. Or Ino, flicking her large forehead and pocking her tongue out as she teased her. There were also those times when Kakashi showed up late and invented outlandish excuses to explain his delay; Tsunade's drunken rambles and considerable gambling debts had led to a number of humorous instances. Team Seven… Team Seven had been fun but was not something she dared think about anymore.

"They didn't have to do anything," She replies while poking a small round pea with her fork. "They just had to be there and it, it..."

Her voice trails off so Satoshi finishes for her, "It was enough to make you laugh." And, although she nods in quiet agreement, she wonders what point he is trying to make because the topic seems entirely out of the blue and uncharacteristically deep for them.

As if sensing her puzzlement, he announces, "I think laughter is what makes us feel alive."

When he smiles, it reaches his eyes and there is warmth that radiates off him. It causes her to shudder and look away, however, her attention is brought back to him when the chair's feet clap to the floor and he reaches over to drop a few pieces of dried banana in her lap.

This time, when one half of her mouth twitches upward in a small half-smile, he is watching with lips still upturned. She doesn't do it because she feels alive in that moment, but because she hopes that enough practice will trick her mind into feeling alive.

Maybe she can recover with enough practice.

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He arrives the next morning to find her covered in sweat, hair plastered to her forehead and breathing heavy. There is a wild look in her eyes and the first time he reaches for her she angrily slaps his hand away.

"Sakura-san," the tray clatters to the floor amidst his struggles to restrain her.

"Don't touch me!" She yells, feeling those hands slide down to her ankle. It's bad enough to have one monster possess her, but two she cannot bear. Those fingers are on her back, then her hips. His foot is crushing the air from out her lungs. From the corner of her eye she can make out a dark shape etched into his skin. Was it a tattoo? She has difficulty making it out because he's shoving her cheek to the floor and her vision shakes with fury.

Another guard has to come and help keep her pinned to the bed, lest risk further injury to her.

I promised you he wouldn't lay his fingers on you again. Please trust me!

What are promises if not words destined to be broken?

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By the evening, her fever is broken and sanity restored.

She worries that her recovery has taken a step back because her mind keeps returning to the thought that it would be much easier to sleep at night if that guard ceased to exist. People are given too many chances to prove their worth, and in the end, its second and third chances become one's downfall.

At once, she sits up. The fuzzy, dimly lit room slowly comes into focus with the aid of a flickering lantern on the wooden table to her left. Her arms are heavy at her side and breathing light. Certainly, the weight of her eyelids is clear indication that dark circles sit under her eyes. She is studying her lap, and then her hands, eyesight drifting up her arms to her chest and—

The yukata is gone. In its place is a gray baggy jacket several sizes too large and collar zipped up past her chin.

"Sorry," A familiar, gentle voice utters beside her and her dull green eyes glance over to see Satoshi hunched over on the chair with her yukata in hand and a look of abject concentration on his usually soft features. "I thought I could finish before you woke up," He murmurs with the light causing a needle to gleam occasionally in her eye.

In complete silence she watches as his clumsy hands work their way back and forth, looping needle and thread through the fabric of her yukata and pulling it taut. Its cathartic watching him work even though his brows are furrowed and upper teeth sink into his lower lip. Minutes pass and when he's finally done, he pulls the thread tightly in a knot and hold out the clothing to her as he explains, "There was a tear, but I fixed it now. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold."

As if a cold is enough explanation to explain her behavior.

There is momentary surprise in her eyes before she accepts the garment and leaves it bundled in her lap. It's not nearly as pretty as it once was; faded and lacking in luster. "Thank you," She lets slip passed her tongue while brushing her thumb over the scarred tear. Perhaps she ought to –pretend— smile. It seems like the kind of thing she would do in the past.

"Ne, Sakura-san," A hand falls on her shoulder and the mattress dips. Since her eyelids are still tired, she only bothers to raise her attention eye-level. It's why she is able to see the bob of his throat as he swallows. "Do you ever think of escape?"

The question makes her stomach uneasy.

"You could see your friends again. Laugh again," Her back stiffens yet still he continues, "Or you could go someplace far away, where no one knows you. You could start over again, say… I don't know," He thinks about it for a few seconds and starts planning her future, "Go to some small village and be their doctor; you used to be a great medic, right? You can find new friends and be happy every day, you can smile and, oh, how you'll smile! Grow a garden and—"

She stills him by reaching up and gently removing his hand from her shoulder, "It's not gonna happen."

Better not to entertain such thoughts. They only ever cause trouble.

"Why not?" It comes more as a challenge, "I've been thinking about it and—"

There is one person she knows who would never grant her a happy ending. Though he comes and goes, he always returns to remind her that she is some kind of possession of his. Like a cat with a mouse; not keen to destroy it right away but instead content to play with it for a good and long while. He centred his whole life on revenge, narrowly pursuing it with singular focus. There was no way he would let her walk away with her life. His thoughts were not so scattered and he had the will within him to find her wherever she hid.

"Sasuke would never allow it," she thinks that one sentence alone will provide enough clarity for the young male to give up.

The other is unrelenting however. The war had not changed him so much as it had others, and the ability to dream without the crushing weight of reality was still second nature.

"We'd do it when he's away… Travelling somewhere," Excitement is building in his voice, "I could slip some sleeping powder into the other guards' dinners and come for you. We'd only have a couple minutes before the second shift arrives but it should be enough time. I'll get you out of here and then slip back in to pretend I'm waking up with the others. It—"

"Stop," Her voice waivers slightly as she implores him, "Sasuke would soon discover it was you and then what do you think will happen?"

Good things rarely happen to fools.

The words barely leave her lips and he's ready to counter, "I'll change the reports then… I'll make it so I was never here! It can work, I know it can. You don't have to stay—"

"Stop!" Her hands smack over his mouth in growing panic and body shakes as she yells at him with eyes sealed shut, "You mustn't say these things. It will never work. Don't you know he will kill you? It will be terrible…" An image of Naruto laid dying in her trembling hands flashes in her head, "Blood, there will be so much blood." She can already hear what her shrill cry will sound like.

A metallic scent of blood wafts in through her nostrils. Every nerve in her body recoils at the taste. Lowly, she spits out the next question in disgust, "Why would you say this to me?!" Her hands are still covering his mouth, trying to force all those words and dangerous thoughts back inside.

Again, she is pretending. Trying not to be angry with him for causing this inner turmoil.

Dejection enters bright amber eyes. Sakura didn't see it but she doesn't need to because she feels it in the way his body loosens and fingers go slack. Under the palm of her hand, his mouth draws into a grim, straight line and he nods, knowing this is the last time he will bring up the subject.

"I'm sorry," He says, standing and returning to the chair. Once he sits, he again utters, "Sorry. I've upset you, Sakura."

It takes her a minute to regain her composure and silence the sound of blood rushing through her ears.

When she opens her mouth, she speaks to the wall and repeats a familiar phrase, "It's okay. You're here now."

Slowly, she moves to lie on her back, turning slightly so that she can face her companion. The light is still flickering and her eyes are growing heavier. She wants to smile for him. Instead, she asks, "Tell me about the weather outside."

She will pretend he never spoke of escape.

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She had another dream about killing and blood. There was the crushing of bone and an agonizing moan as blood was coughed up from perforated lungs. The face was barely recognizable through all the welts and swollen eye sockets. A battered hand reached up for mercy…

"A festival is coming up, Sakura-san, there will be fireworks and everything!" He is brimming with excitement and looking younger than his years.

Somehow her thoughts are driven from her skull as she hears the happy chatter that seems to lift the entire room.

"Did you ever see fireworks at a festival?" Not long after he asks the question, he's bashfully shaking his head and berating himself, "Of course you have. Who hasn't? What's your favourite part about festivals?"

A small hard candy finds its way in her palm the second she finishes her meal.

"I guess… The food," She replies before popping the candy in her mouth. These treats are not to be saved, because if anyone catches them then there will be consequences. She remembers attending a festival a long time ago and being mesmerized by the bursting colours being reflected on the calm water's surface. That time she had eaten ramen because Naruto was there and so was… By the time she had made it home that night she felt sick from getting overly stuffed.

Those were different times.

"Really?" He almost whistles in surprise, "Normally people would say the fireworks. I wonder how they can make them in so many different colours."

"It depends on the chemical composition. The energy released by different compounds varies so the colour of light produced can be determined by picking a particular metal salt or oxide," The explanation comes without much thought and she doesn't think it is an overly exciting piece of information nor completely in depth, but the male standing across her is thoroughly impressed.

"Where do you even learn such things?"

"It's called opening a book," It might have sounded smugger if the round candy weren't protruding the side of her cheek.

"I bet I can impress the ladies if I talk like that," He muses aloud, finger on his chin and thoughts dreaming up silly fantasies.

Perhaps it was the candy in her cheek that tugged at the corner of her lips. Or maybe she was getting better at pretending because she smirks a little and quips, "First you have to get one... But you are not so good at it." He was always telling her of his failed blunders with women.

"Hey!" He reacts to the insult, "I'm working on it." His pride is easily wounded and it is a bit entertaining to see him so animated as a result of her efforts.

"With your future wife, who you've seen but not met?" She ponders aloud, with neither malice nor distaste.

He sheepishly grins and nods.

The candy in her mouth is shrinking in size. She hopes he will bring her another one sometime, but instead of making the request she asks him to, "Make sure you tell me all about it." She thinks his stories might make her dream less about vengeance and more about the way she used to be. Back when she had laughter and friendship to make her feel alive.

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"Sa—" She begins, with eyes soft and lips slightly upturned, only she instantly clamps her mouth shut and lets her face fall to its natural neutral state the moment she sees raven locks and clothes to match.

He always returns at the worst of times. But, she knew he would show up sooner or later.

Swallowing, she starts anew, "Sasuke." This time her voice is low and stare is harder. It is a blessing that both their names begin with 'sa' otherwise she thinks that she would be in a great deal of trouble.

Briefly, she wonders if pretending will get her anywhere with him, but what would she pretend?

Dark eyes narrow slightly, though he says nothing of her sudden transformation. Instead, "Come," he beckons her closer with a lazy hand motion so that he may inspect her and take note of any changes. It would not do to have her starving or wellbeing greatly diminished. He would be lying if he said thoughts of her hadn't entered his thoughts more than once in the past few weeks. Slender legs wrapped around his waist and long neck exposed, waiting for his greedy mouth to mark her.

His headaches are as bad as ever but at least he knows his work is not all for naught.

There is not so much fight in her tonight.

She rises from the chair and her feet patter lightly on the floor for several steps, stopping so there is several feet between him. To bridge the gap entirely would be asking too much of her and he seems to acknowledge this since instead of another command he merely 'tsks' and reaches forward to grab the collar of her yukata. With a simple tug he yanks her forward several steps.

Now they can pretend she has done what he had asked of her.

His eyes are dissecting her once more. First her face and then her hair. Like a farmer eyeing his prized cattle before sending it off to market. The thought causes her to glare down at the floor. No amount of pretending could make blind to the hunger in his eyes.

Next, his hands are around her waist and feeling her stomach. The action causes her to squirm despite feet remaining rooted in place.

Good, he thinks. She is still thin and bony but at least she is not emaciated. It is clear to him that she has continued eating in his absence. Keen to continue his assessment, he grabs one of her wrist and pulls up her sleeve to reveal unblemished alabaster skin. It's when he reaches for her other hand, which is hidden behind her back that she begins to protests.

"Stop this," She tries to free her arm so that she can swat him away though he is unperturbed and easily captures the wrist behind her back to afford him closer inspection.

Unlike before he left, there is now a thick cotton sheet and several layers of bandages wrapped tightly over her hand. The sight of her dainty fingers barely peeking from the wrappings causes him to scowl and ask, "What did you do to yourself this time?"

All he receives is pursed lips and indifference.

"I'll read the report." It's more a threat than a statement. Something akin to you better tell me soon because if I have to figure it out myself, you'll surely regret it.

"One of your guards," She is spiteful and would leave it at that only she doesn't know who else's name is in any report and would rather her amber-eyed friend stay out of Sasuke's crosshairs. "He has sandy brown hair and dark brown eyes." Her nose wrinkles a bit as she continues, "Stubby fingers and," She tries to think of a better identifier, "I think, a tattoo on the inside of his wrist."

Fragments of a memory flash in her mind and a familiar hot resentment is spreading across her body, carried by the blood in her veins.

He notices something in her eyes when she looks up at him. Something that causes him to grasp her chin and pull her in closer.

When did… When did your eyes become like…

Instead of finishing his thought he releases her and benignly asks, "Would you like to see the fireworks?"

Silence.

Like it's a natural inquiry.

"Don't be cruel, Sasuke."

So rarely does she utter his name that it sounds foreign to his ears. Still, he ignores the bad taste in his mouth and tugs on her sleeve as he turns for the door with her arm in tow. "It's been a long time since you had fresh air," He mutters under his breath, half hoping she doesn't hear.

She stumbles for a few steps but slams down her feet upon reaching the door frame, because she would rather stay in her familiar, dingy room where she knows what will happen than go someplace new and suffer unfamiliar consequences.

"It's a trick," She decides, eyes narrowing on the back of the man before her. He certainly did not turn up after weeks simply to take her outside. Not with that look in his eyes.

"It's not," He tugs and she pulls. There small game of tug-of-war begun. "Don't you want to see?"

He is looking back at her but not at her. No, there is that look in her eyes that he seeks to avoid.

Despite her broken, useless hand, she still uses it to cling to the door frame. Her heels are dug in and tone resolute when she answers, "No. I'd rather stay here."

"Liar," Is harshly bit out. Another tug on her sleeve and an angry look behind before he tries again. This time his voice is softer and less threatening, "I'll bring you straight back."

"Whenever I ask to leave?"

She doesn't trust him, and doesn't want to follow yet finds her feet moving forward on their own accord the moment she sees his head nod and feels the strain on her sleeve. Perhaps it was the way Satoshi had spoken of plants growing, fruit ripening and birds chirping. Or talk of pollen in the air, crickets calling and people staying busy with their chores outdoors. Maybe he would be out there, looking up at the fireworks too and she could say 'I too saw them shine brightly in the sky.'

Or maybe, she knew it wasn't really a choice and Sasuke would take her wherever he wanted.

For whatever reason she followerd.

They travel down a long hallway, passing one door, two doors… Finally they turn down the fourth door on the left which leads to a narrow flight of stairs. She watches the sway of his shoulders until they reach the top step and he pushes open a stiff, barely used door to the roof of the building.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she is outside in the warm summer's air. A light breeze brings the soft scent of flowers and fresh earth that she had forgotten long ago. Although the sun is setting, there is still enough light for her to see far into the distance; past the busy streets and small houses, beyond the protective wall that traversed the perimeter of the large town and into the farmer's fields and hills that lay beyond the city limits.

It was like looking at Konoha for the first time from the eyes of a stranger. And, to some extent she was a foreigner to this land, which had been rebuilt after Pein and then partially re-organized under Sasuke's Revolution.

Some birds fly overhead, though the squirrels and chipmunks have since scurried home for the evening.

She is entranced by the colour of the sky that is painted red, orange and yellow. Stunningly, she realizes that the sunset is the colours of Naruto. How did she not notice this before?

The dark haired male standing beside her pulls on her sleeve after some time. He is dragging her closer to the edge of the roof to a point that provides greater observation of the streets below. Somehow his movements make no sounds. Maybe it was all the noise outside that assaulted her senses and kept her attention from him.

Before she knows it, he is behind her with his mouth to her ear, one hand on her shoulder and the other arm brushing against her cheek as he reaches over her to point to a spot no more than three streets away.

"There. Everyone is gathering to celebrate," though his tone is stoic she can feel more than hear the silent gloating in her ear. As if to say, despite you everyone is happy. It's true. She watches the crowds of busy people walking merrily to the town centre. People smiling, friends laughing, boys and girls holding each other's hands and sparing furtive glances for one another. In another lifetime, she can see herself down there with them, a big smile beaming on her face while she makes jokes with friends.

He is proud of his work…

"Did you bring me here to gloat?" She asks softly, eyes fixed on a young girl with a candied apple in one hand and the other in her mother's tight grasp.

He does not answer her question directly, and she would never expect so much. Instead, he informs her matter-of-factly, "It is Revolution Day."

"Ah," There is bitterness in her tone, "So you came to celebrate. Tell me," She raises her hand to push his arm away from her cheek, which he does not resist, "How long have I been your prisoner?"

"How long have you known me," It rolls off his tongue as if he anticipated her question.

A small snort bubbles up past her throat since she finds herself in rare agreement; that in one way or another, she has been a captive of his for longer than the cement walls he now hides her behind. When they were younger, her thoughts and actions were guided by her feelings for him. How many nights had she stood in front of her mirror back then, waiting for her hair to grow out simply to please him. Or the times she scolded Naruto in hopes that Sasuke would see her on his level. She had been willing to leave everything behind to go with him to Orochimaru, and then, she had been willing to give everything up to bring him home. Still, this is not the answer to the question she was asking.

"How long? A year? I think longer…" She trails off since her attention lands on a blob of blonde hair in the crowd.

The male behind her straightens his posture, with his hand still on her shoulder and the other at his side before a one-worded utterance slips past his lips "Two."

It is mildly distressing that she has lost two years of her life already yet time has gone by slowly and it almost feels as if more time should've passed. Each day melded into the next so that she could scarcely tell when one day ended and another began. Without windows or visual reference to the outside world, the only indication she has that another day had passed is the fresh meal that found its way into her dank, little room.

Unease is growing in her belly. Green eyes dart through the crowd, roving from one scene to the next. She badly wants to vault her attention elsewhere but her eyes keep returning to that blonde splotch of colour which she does not want see.

Above, the birds have ceased their chirping and settled in the trees. The sky is changing hues, with splashes of vibrant orange and yellow fading , fading…

Unconsciously, she tries to take a step back, completely ignoring the way it brings her closer to the man she hates. If the air had cooled since the sun's light dimmed, she certainly did not notice. All she can feel is heat radiating through her yukata and hot air hitting the back of her head.

"I want to go back," She tries, hoping there is no strain in her voice. Nevermind that the sun has only recently descended past the horizon and the celebration has yet to begin.

"You see them, don't you?"

She adamantly shakes her head, feigning ignorance and preferring to look at her feet instead of the crowd. She has seen enough of Konoha.

Sasuke does not relent, however, "I know you see them." He has planned this all too well, of that she is sure. Why else bring her up here other than to taunt her and flaunt what she was missing before her very own eyes.

This was a mistake.

"I want to go back," she repeats with greater emphasis.

"Look at them," he demands forcefully, grabbing hold of her wrist to still her since her withering is unwanted. Negotiations will not work tonight, if they ever really do.

"All this time you have kept me prisoner, I have mourned for Konoha," her voice is cold and biting. She wishes her words would affect him the way his torment her. To pile on insult on him, she adds a scathing, "Your Revolution disgust me."

If only she can redirect his torment onto something, someone, else.

He is ready with a quick retort of his own, "All this time you have mourned, your friends have moved on. You can't even look at them, because it means your quest has been meaningless."

At his words she is silenced. Shoulders slacken, arms drop and her tense expression falls into nothing more than a blank stare. Realization at his words is awash through her system. Instead of sorrow or anger, she suddenly feels nothing.

"I don't care," she mumbles, watching as Ino clings to Sai's arm in the distance. The blonde's head rests on her one-time-ago teammate's shoulder, muttering sweet nothings into his ear. Their backs are facing her, so she cannot see their expressions, but she imagines Ino smiling and Sai contemplative.

Genjutsu?

Her mind refuses to believe what her eyes witness. It is unfathomable that they could move on in a Konoha where Sasuke is Hokage. How can it be so?

"Do you realize all that you've missed?" His voice is as empty as her reply.

"I don't care," she reiterates while following the way Shikamaru's arm stretches out across Temari's shoulders and the way she reaches up to lock him in place. A few feet away from them, she even discovers that Choiji has found himself a lover.

Is she the only one left alone?

There is a voice inside her head telling her that she should be happy for them; that they have all made the best of tragic circumstances. That they made different choices does not make one right and the other wrong, or one more righteous than the other.

Ah, people sure are resilient little things. But, did they have to be quite so resilient?

Sasuke's jaw moves against the side of her face as he leans in to asks, "Does it upset you to see them?"

She adamantly shakes her head, though who she is trying to convince is undetermined. Her feelings are lost, hidden behind a wall of willful blindness. The only emotion that creeps in is an escalating sense of dread.

"That could be you," There is a moment of reflection before he corrects himself, "Could've been."

What would they think if they were to see her now?

"If you were to ask me," He begins, wrapping an arm around her waist and stepping forward to bring their toes to the ledge, "I would take you to them." His voice is now deeper, having every curve of her body lodged so closely with his own.

The way his arm tightens makes her think that he is ready to leap up and drop her in the midst of her friends. It causes instant repulsion and she fiercely pushes back, not caring whether she will tumble off the ledge in her struggles. "Take me back," the demand is made for a third time that evening, except this time is followed up with an elbow to the body behind her and an attempted heel to his foot.

"You'll miss the fireworks," he mocks.

In retaliation to his mockery, she spins in his arms and raises her uninjured hand to slap the smug expression she's sure he must be sporting off his face.

His expression is; however, blank with little more than a slight frown adorning his passive features. Rather than discipline her with his hand or his tongue, he is walking backwards and tugging her along, away from the edge like she is dumb enough to jump off. All that would achieve is attention from those lingering below and him using chakra to make a smooth landing.

"Close your eyes," his voice is deep and like velvet. She might've obeyed simply to blot out his existence from her vision, but she is fearful that he will use the moment to scoop her up and force others to witness the weak and wretched state she's become.

"No," She shakes her head, angrily trying to yank herself out of his grasp.

Not that it will save her since she is still here with him.

"Sakura." Not her name but a reprimand for her behavior. She hates the way it rolls off his tongue.

This time she glares with eyes full of malice and heart turned to stone. A creature of hate that he has created, fashioned in his own image. Long ago he sought her ruin; to squeeze out the last bit of glimmer in her vibrant sea-foam coloured eyes. Only now does he realize that this shadow image doesn't really suit her.

His hand moves to cover the upper half of her face, only to be swatted away. She will make him see. She will force him to witness—

Before she knows what is happening, he has her injured hand twisted and pinned behind her back so that the slightest struggle causes pain to ricochet up her elbow and through her arm.

Again, she is brought to her knees. Again, she is shoved to her hands and face to the cement with an overbearing man behind her. This time she knows not to pray for mercy or rescue.

She doesn't even know when his hand left her shoulder and landed on her hip. She didn't notice it until his hand slides from its perch and flies upward, slipping under the folds of her yukata and groping her breasts. He knows how to touch her –to make her body lean into his touch—and even if she wants to escape it, all she can do is press back into his body, which cages her own.

A gasps and small shuffle forward, as she tries to crawl her way up and away from the hand that works its offensive magic on her. She hears a growl behind her and his groin pressed against her backside. Hot air is on the nape of her neck and shoulder. There is a tingling wherever he touches, which is, very close to everywhere.

Teeth on the shell of her ear, tongue between her shoulder and neck. Those wicked hands of his are dragging and squeezing every inch of her body they can reach. At times like this it is better not to think; only the incident from the previous week is fresh in her mind and she really does not want to be in this position where she cannot see the man behind her.

She wants to flip over, wants to face him only it's too late because –oh—his hips are rolling against her (with hers) and her hand is still trapped in its awkward position since his body is too close and pinning her in place.

Of course, there is the thing with her eyes that he doesn't want to see.

Each time she tries to elbow him or keel over so that she can be in any position except on her knees he punishes her with a nip on the neck or a pinch of her nipple. She doesn't notice how he is careful not to re-injure her hand or the way he has let it slip into a painless position. What she does notice is the tug on her obi and greedy hands on her stomach and hips.

"N-not this way," She tries to sound ferocious but it is instead just a whimper and she is finally able to close her eyes if only in self-loathing.

Behind her he uses the friction between their bodies to ride himself hard. With each roll of the hips she feeds him with a gasp that is like music to his ears.

He is all too pleased rocking his hardened member against her to satisfy his need and would stretch it out longer if it hadn't already been too much time since he last had her. His teases have already exceeded his patience and brought him close to the brink. Beneath him, the pink haired female is still stubbornly fighting to get onto her back. No doubt so that she can throw spite in his direction. He does the only thing he can think of to end her resistance.

When she feels a hand atop hers she knows it is his. Yes, this is Sasuke. Not someone else. Not that other man.

It stills her long enough for him to impatiently ram himself inside her. When he freed himself from the confines of his pants or hoisted up her yukata she does not know.

She stifles a small scream by biting down on her lip.

He chokes back a groan, lest she think him too needy.

It's pathetic.

The way he uses and punishes her body with unrelenting thrusts, like he is trying to rip her in two. Disgusting, how her hips react to his tempo and move on their own. The thin material of her outfit does little to prevent the abrasive cement surface from rubbing her skin raw; a persistent irritant that keeps her mind from wandering.

She doesn't know how many minutes pass, but her knees start to buckle under his weight and breathing is growing more laboured and erratic. The burning in her lungs tells her that their actions cannot last much longer.

If only he would hurry up and finish. She would rather he leave her body unsatisfied than have her fingers and toes curl in rapture.

But, his pride would not tolerate it to leave her unfinished so he continues to play with her breasts and suck her skin.

Soon she feels a familiar knot in her stomach rupture and her fingers curl with his own. She tries to force down her cry at the immense release of pleasure by biting down on the back of his hand. In the very least, she can leave him with a mark of her own to punish him for his unwanted attentions. Neither will ever know if the hiss that leaves him is because of her teeth or the orgasm that seizes his muscles and roll down his spine when he reaches completion.

Their shaky breaths fill the night's air until she slaps a hand over her mouth to silence herself, disliking it when they are in tandem. He is not in a hurry to dislodge himself, and instead rests his forehead on her shoulder-blade while letting puffs of hot air mix in with the sweat on her clothes.

She can feel his semen drip down the inside of her thighs as he withdraws and is then thankful that her hand is still present so that she can muffle the sound of her gag as the smell of sex fills the air. It is hard trying to hide the way her body quakes under his weight.

At last, he detaches the rest of his body from hers and rolls onto his back. It takes her a few more seconds until she is recovered well enough to shift to her side and leave her back for his hungry eyes to feed upon.

Anger is swelling in her chest.

She would like for someone else to suffer instead of herself.

As she stews in the night, he observes. First, the pink tinge of her ears. Then, the small curve in her spine. Dark-eyes land on her tense shoulders where they remain stuck for more than a minute. His fingers stretch out before she can sense movement and they begin tracing over a spot on her shoulder. Up and down, like they are memorizing the feel.

Is it habit or something else?

For the life of her, she cannot understand why he's behaving in such a manner. He got what he wanted… Shouldn't he return her to her cage now?

Suddenly he tugs on the material roughly. The forceful momentum uproots her from her defiant position and plants her back firmly to the roof. A small grunt passes her lips when her shoulder blades and tailbone dig in uncomfortably to the rigid surface, though the male beside her spares no heed to her discomfort.

"Who did this?" His low tone is harsh, demanding.

She doesn't answer him because she doesn't know what he's talking about.

"Tell me," Again, he is impatient and fisting her yukata so tightly that she can see his knuckles turn white.

When she frowns and her brows lower in bewilderment, he clarifies in frustration, "These stitches. Who made them?"

If his eyes didn't look dangerous at the moment she might've bit out a derisive insult. As if the notion that someone would actually spend time repairing something as menial as a torn sleeve was offensive to him.

"What does it matter?" She quietly asks, glancing up at the sky to see a few stars beginning to peak out from behind the clouds.

Stars looked prettier in her imagination.

The way he twists the fabric in his hand and yanks it closer for inspection informs her that it did indeed matter to him, for some reason or another. His eyes are memorizing the line of stiches, which are slightly thicker than the rest of the seam. There is imperfection – a jagged quality – to the handiwork, yet simultaneously a peculiar neatness that indicates care and affection.

It darkens his mood.

"Who?"

She winces slightly, feeling his fingernails digging into her skin through the material in his possession. He will not wait much longer for an answer, but she is looking down at her bandaged and broken hand with a wicked plan forming in her poisoned mind.

Let's practice a game of pretend.

"A guard of yours has taken a fancy towards me," She pauses to let her words sink in. "I think he has become obsessed."

In his eyes, she sees his mind turning, realization dawning and conclusions being drawn. Still, she continues to weave her thread, guiding him towards the path she wants.

Why should she be the only one ever punished?

"It's sickening, the way he lingers," Her word-choice is carefully chosen. "His eyes are lecherous and his hands," wordlessly she raises her injury so that her meaning is clear, "are rough."

Sasuke is still suspicious. Of course, he is always suspicious.

"The same man," his fingers hover over the repair before dragging to her wrist and wrapping his fingers around it so tightly that his middle and index fingers overlapped with his thumb, "Also caused this injury?"

Deftly, she nods her head and is sure to hide her emotions with a mask of apathy.

Sure that he is almost where she wants him and reaches over to run her finger over his jawline. He's tense and, perhaps it is just her imagination that he flitches at the contact since his eyes remain steady and locked in a steely gaze. She continues, "While you were away he came up behind me. I was sure…" A carefully placed swallow and glance at the sky. "He tried to force himself…"

At once he slaps her hand from his face and his weight is upon her; his legs straddling her hips and hands acting like clasps which bind her wrist to the ground. "He didn't—"

It's urgent. An accusation that is simultaneously a question. The look in his eyes is mad.

She is starting to feel something…

She obliges him by shutting her eyes so that he doesn't have to see them twisted and full of hate but drags out his torment by refusing to answer for several moments. His breaths berate her cheek and strands of hair fray the edges of her face. When she finally shakes her head, there is a sigh and release of her wrists.

It is slightly intoxicating, she thinks.

Two of his fingers are now charting her lips. He smells of wood and earth. The outdoors was always him in his natural element.

Before long, his fingers slip past her slightly parted lips and she finds that his skin tastes of salt and the earth as well. His mouth descends to her neck, tongue sliding out and claiming the area as his own.

She stills him with a single utterance, "I didn't think you would allow someone else to own me."

His actions are deliberately slow, as he drags his saliva-coated fingers from her mouth to her naval. Down, down, down, they descend between her legs and past two wet folds. Of course, the pathetic sound that works its way out from the back of her throat, causing her to hate herself further, has the opposite effect on him. He drags his mouth from her neck to her ear, holding himself close so that he can absorb the shivers that course through her body each time his finger hit deep within her.

"Never." Is his answer. An ominous threat that challenges her to disobey and see exactly what will happen.

Instead of recoiling, she meets him with a hardened glare of her own and dares him all her own, "Then, why don't you get rid of him." There is not a waiver in her voice or ounce of compassion that once filled her spring time voice.

This is what she has become.

But, Sasuke doesn't want to see the look in her eyes. When he places a hand over her eyes, she knows what he wants and again, hides her sight from the world.

"Sasuke," she prods, still waiting for a response.

He gives it to her when he grabs her thighs, leaving her legs to wrap around his waist before penetrating deeply inside her. A grunt is swiftly followed by his mouth clamping down on hers and claiming every inch of her body for him and him alone.

She is too weak on her own but for once, she can use this man of a vengeance as a tool of her own. This is how she feels alive.

Overhead the firework's bursts and crackle, filling the dark sky with streams of colour and beautiful light. Red, white and blue; the colour of Uchiha.

With her eyes sealed shut and body buried beneath another, she misses them entirely.

This is the proper way to pretend with Uchiha Sasuke.

.

.

.

Two days later, Satoshi is at her door once again with her tray of food in his hands and a shrivelling flower hidden in his back pocket.

Sakura is –pretend– smiling with a tear in the corner of her eye.

"Ne," She begins softly, "Did you really mean it when you said that I could escape this place?"

.

.

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A/N: I felt strongly motivated by all the reviews I received! Thank you!

I probably should've written more on Sakura seeing some Rookie 9 members but after writing so much, I was honestly too tired write a lot of detail on it. Maybe in a later chapter I will bring the issue up again or simply go back to this chapter and edit it a bit to add more it. Anyway... In canon timeline those around her kind of did move on to next stage of their lives without her (i.e. all got lovers before Sasuke returned from redemption quest). If I cared any characters/pairings in Rookie 9 outside of Team 7, then I might've written a short one-shot to explain how it's possible for them to continue living but... I... don't /sweating. Try to remember that it's Sakura's POV and just because she assumes that they're all 'happy', doesn't necessarily mean all is fine.

Anyway, hope this chapter was interesting and not overly confusing. Kind of just focus on a theme/imagery and run with it.

Some quick replies to reviewers (firstly, thank you to everyone who took the time to leave me their thoughts!):

RandomCruiser – Your review was so nice to read and made me laugh, especially the part about that 'next level shit' because you give me too much credit in thinking I read philosophy. TsubasaMei RainBottom Yk2895 – I had to re-read my fic to remember what I wrote too lol. Sakurarules4eternity – Glad if you can see this as an alternate ending! I thought things tied together a bit to neatly in the manga too (esp. all characters falling in love with teammates and having babies at the same time). Kurumee – I better read up on some Greek tragedies so I can get this right Mars – Yes, they are following a similar path ;( Ariella Forverrr GodricGirl – Yep, I want to update Princely Lessons soon! Sometimes it is hard to write angst because I would prefer to laugh. toffeemilk teddystarconverse39 – Happy you are still following fic and were excited to see it updated! Lonely Athena – damn, I'm really jealous you could read fanfiction during breaks at work; I get too worried people will look over and see me reading smut