When she walks through the streets now, she doesn't see children playing or people laughing at the market. In fact, it's rare that she even witnesses someone smiling anymore.

Parents are too afraid to allow their children to venture outside by themselves, even if it's just to go to a neighbor's. The amount of villagers that have pulled their children out of school makes Sakura's heart break. The amount of children that have been pulled out of the Academy is almost enough to warrant its closure.

Of course that will never happen. Even if it's only for a handful of children, he will force it to remain open. After all, he needs all the young, impressionable ninja he can get his hands on in order to warp and twist their minds under his command.

Just last month one child killed another during regular morning training session; they were only nine. Instead of receiving punishment or suspension, the surviving child was rewarded with a certificate of graduation. Sakura attended the child's small funeral, standing on the far edge as the family mourned. Her attendance was not only due to the sadness and her anger from the situation, but in order to publicly defyhim.

Her way of saying, 'This isn't right. I'll never agree to any of this.'

The poor children who remain enrolled are only there due to their parent's fear of the consequences that would befall them if they were to do so.

Nowadays, fear is what control the people. It's what keeps them from rioting.

Sometimes people are too afraid to even travel to the hospital. That's one of the many things that causes Sakura to cry at night. Usually people seek her out at odd hours of the night, when they finally risk venturing outside to find help.

Sakura makes it a duty of hers to make as many house-calls as she can. Sometimes she wonders if he knows that she's working behind his back and without his approval and as soon as the thought enters her mind, she dismisses it. She doesn't care what he does or doesn't know about what she does anymore.

She hasn't feared death in a long time, and every now and then she thinks she'd prefer it. She figures that if he wanted to kill her, he would've done so by now.

On rare occasions when he leaves the village to travel, she emerges and tries to see as many people as possible. Despite their loyalty toward Sasuke, the ANBU always let her pass through their security in the torture and interrogation unit. She spends a good amount of time down there in their cellars to see Kakashi.

Some days, in between greedy gulps of the water she brings him, he'll admit to her that he wishes Sasuke would just get it over with and kill him. He's withered away. Malnourished, weak, and broken. The sight makes Sakura want to simultaneously scream and cry, but she knows she can't afford the moment of weakness.

Sakura thinks that Kakashi is still alive not due to some sort of shred of humanity on Sasuke's part, but due to the fact that he represents the hope of the past.

If Kakashi is alive then the people of the village still have some sort of hope to cling onto.

That's really the only thing that keeps the villagers going, and Sakura knows that Sasuke uses that to his advantage. Despite his aversion to the past and every part of it, Sasuke will do what he must to keep everyone under his control.

Sakura uses Sasuke's absences to visit her remaining friends. She visits Ino in the hospital, bringing her flowers and setting them up at her bedside.

Ino had only lasted five months working in the torture and interrogation unit under Sasuke's regime before she—to put it simply—broke. Sakura finds herself wondering if Ino even knows who she is anymore; her friend functions but no longer lives.

Sakura mourns as if Ino has really died, just like Naruto did.

Nightmares still plague her from the war as she watches strangers and friends alike die around her. She still sees Neji die, she still sees the body of Tsunade lying cold on the ground, she still sees her friends—heartbroken and furious—trying to kill Sasuke, but all failing.

When she feels like mourning the loss of most of her friends, she'll seek out Hinata and Lee—she doesn't seek out Shikamaru any longer, and sometimes she wonders if he hates her as much as she hates herself.

They won't do much or even say anything to one another. They'll pass a bottle of sake around and writhe silently in pain until the alcohol clouds their mind enough that they'll fall into an uneventful, dreamless sleep.

Lee who doesn't talk about youth anymore and who forces smiles in order to try and lighten his friends' pain; it never works but Sakura has learned to appreciate the gesture.

Hinata, who is paralyzed from the waist down, pierced by Sasuke's blade only mere days after the end of the war. Hinata, who lost hers and Naruto's child just hours after finding out of her pregnancy. Hinata, who doesn't speak much anymore, her heart broken beyond repair.

Sakura remembers the attack with vivid clarity. She remembers watching as Sasuke ruthlessly murdered Shino first and Tenten next, as they stood in between himself and Hinata. She remembers watching from the window in confusion and horror as his blade sliced through them effortlessly, cutting them down just outside the hospital doors.

She doesn't remember running toward Sasuke when he pierced Hinata's belly, but she remembers screaming and throwing punches and god, she'll never forget the look on Hinata's face from where she lay in the dirt, a silent scream that would never escape caught in her throat as her open mouth gasped for air.

She remembers being held up by her throat, her eyes blind with tears, her fingernails digging into his wrists, his blood covering her fingertips as he glared at her with his mismatched eyes. She remembers swinging her legs trying hard to kick him before he slammed her against the hospital wall, cracking the concrete and pressing his body up against hers.

She remembers watching her blood drip down her nose and chin, staining his forearm. She remembers watching it closely, focusing closely and trying to fight the blackness from taking over.

"You're not even worth killing," he'd declared, allowing his chidori to dissipate as he threw her to the ground.

She remembers screaming at him from where she laid on the ground, delirious and nauseous and in so many different types of pain she could hardly stand it.

"I hate you! I hate you so fucking much! Fuck you! I fucking hate you!"

She remembers screaming until he disappeared from her sight, screaming until her throat was raw, screaming even as witnesses tried to help her off the ground and drag her back into the hospital.

Sometimes Sakura wonders what things would be like if she'd known of Hinata and Naruto's secret relationship, or if she'd known about the pregnancy before Sasuke had.

She'll spend days at a time imagining scenarios in which she helps Hinata escape the village and live secretly, away from Sasuke's heinous establishment. But she knows that sooner or later, no matter how much she wonders and dreams, Sasuke would've found them, and Naruto's child would've ended up dead one way or another.

His name is hardly even spoken anymore. People are too afraid to mention him in fear of being overheard. They don't know what the punishment would be, but no one is willing to be the first to find out.

She's approached one night, almost a year after the war, by Shikamaru. It's hot outside—the remnants of summer still lingering—and she's stirred out of a deep sleep by his gentle, quiet prodding.

She sits in bed, disoriented by the sight of him and a few strangers in her room. She listens, stunned as he quickly, and with as few words as possible, explains the rebel group that's started an underground movement in Konoha and Suna's slums.

When he demands her to accompany him he waits an entire five seconds, studying her confused, shocked,conflicted expression, before eventually nodding, a quiet "I see then" rolling off his tongue, before he and the strangers are gone from her room.

She doesn't ever see him again and she finds herself wondering whether he's still alive or not. He may have hated her at the end of everything, but she still loved her friends. Through both hate and death, she loved them more than anything.

She doesn't see her parents much at all. She's too busy in between doing damage control around the village and helping the villagers in any way that she can to stop by and say 'hello'. She's too afraid to spend too much time with her family. She knows what Sasuke can do to them and she doesn't want to take any chances.

But despite everything, despite the hate that she holds and the fury that burns bright inside her soul, somehow she still finds it in herself to love.

She loves her friends and the people of her village. She loves her remaining comrades, despite their allegiance—no matter how strategic it may be—to Sasuke and his establishment. She loves the summer rains that give her a reason to go sit outside in silence, simply to enjoy the feeling of the warm water on her bare skin.

She loves and it's hard and it hurts but she still knows how to hate with the best of them.

She hates that her friends are broken and battered and dead.

She hates that her village has fallen apart and that the daimyo of Fire Country refuses to do anything to help.

She hates that she doesn't know how her friends in Suna are doing—she hates that she no longer has any contact with any of her comrades from other countries.

And most importantly, she hates herself more than anything.

Even more than him.

On one peculiar occasion, when she's approached by an ANBU and commanded to head to the main office—the building that used to be the Hokage's tower—she's furious when she finds out she's being summoned to a meeting about finally spreading his rule "more thoroughly" throughout the neighboring nations. She's even more furious when he tells her that he expects her to be one of the main assets in accomplishing his mission, primarily in Lightning Country.

She says nothing and he continues as if he hadn't been expecting her to.

When the office is finally empty of most of the company, she glares at him—simply sitting lazily in his chair behind his desk—from across the room, a fire burning in her chest that she refuses to ignore this time.

It doesn't take him long to dismiss Juugo and when his bodyguard is finally gone, Sasuke finally stands, leaning forward slightly to rest his hands on the desk.

"You will do this."

Her fists that had been tightly clenched at her sides begin to shake. "And if I refuse?"

"You're not allowed to."

"And why the hell not?"

"'Cause," he stands straighter, lifting his head and looking down his nose at her, "it's an order."

"I've never taken orders from you before," she seethes through clenched teeth, "and I don't know why I'd start now."

"I've spared your family. Your remaining friends. Your comrades."

Sakura scoffs, "Wow, you've kept yourself from killing people? Must've took a lot of restraint."

To his credit, he doesn't light up with fury like she expected him to, and that just increases her frustration. She knows how to endure him when he's angry, violent, hateful, but his silence and toleration makes her nervous.

"Send someone else," she forces the words out, trying not to sound as anxious as she is, "I'm not interested in spreading your terror any further."

When he moves slowly and with purpose toward her, she stiffens, her muscles nervously twitching as she tries hard to interpret his movements. Her instincts are screaming at her and her fight or flight response is about to kick in when he speaks again.

"I can make it worth your while."

"Then bring back my friends," she spits out angrily as he approaches. When he pauses just before her, she forces words through her mouth again, "Bring back Naruto."

Instead of striking her, snapping at her, or reacting harshly at the mention of the name—like she's expecting him to, like she's seen him do to so many other people—he frowns and tilts his head ever-so-slightly to the right. His eyes study her as if he's examining her and Sakura feels disgustingly uncomfortable under his gaze.

Before her eyes can notice, he's gone, and before her panic can build up thoroughly, she feels him standing behind her, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She gasps at the feeling but remains completely still.

"The dead are dead for a reason," he informs her coolly.

"What about me then?" she asks, angry at herself when her voice shakes. "Is there a reason that I'm still alive?"

She doesn't expect a serious reply, so when he says "Perhaps," her eyes widen and she prays that he'll stay behind her—she doesn't want him to see her expression. She doesn't want him to see the surprise in her eyes.

"You could've killed me—you should've killed me already. You've had endless opportunities, Sasuke," she hisses his name like a snake, the name rolling off her tongue and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, "what are you waiting for?"

"Contrary to what you may think, I'm not planning on killing you."

"Yet," she snapped, wishing he would step back so that his breath would stop tickling her neck.

"At all," he corrected. And with those two words she can just barely sense his frustration with her. At that moment, she's absolutely livid.

Turning around quickly she lifts a hand to strike him, angry when he catches her wrist and spins her back around, twisting her arm behind her to the point where if she struggles she know it will break.

"Stop it," he demands in a cold, deep voice. "Stop trying to get me to hurt you."

"Fuck you," she spits out, her voice openly shaking. "Stop acting like you don't want to hurt me you fucking evil asshole."

"You're right," he speaks calmly, "I could've killed you by now. I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I can list at least twenty ways right now if you'd like me to."

"Don't even bother," she snaps, struggling to get out of his grasp. When she lifts a leg to kick him he swiftly steps to the side and moves forward, pressing her against a wall and wedging one of his legs in between hers to keep her from kicking him again. "Just fucking do it! Just kill me already! Stop postponing the inevitable!"

When she realizes she's crying she shouts out in frustration and stops struggling. If it weren't for Sasuke's body pressed against hers she would've simply sank down the wall and crumpled to the floor in a disgusting mess of sobs and shouts.

Instead, his body keeps hers upright and when he releases her arm and grabs her by the shoulders, Sakura is too weak to even struggle as he turns her back around to face him.

"You…" he begins and then stops, his eyebrows knitted together as he regards her with something akin to confusion. "You are just… so fucking annoying."

She's tired, and as she stares back at him through eyes flooded with tears she's taken completely aback when she sees something she hasn't seen in a while. It's in his eyes; the way he looks at her as she cries and allows him to hold her up.

It's a quiet, confused, almost gentle look he gives her, and for a moment this isn't the evil, disgustingly corrupt Sasuke that the world knows and fears and hates. For just a few seconds he's actuallythere and he's actually seeingher instead of looking through her with plain disregard.

For just a moment, he's her Sasuke-kun, and her dead heart flutters with a feeling she has tried so, so desperately hard to rid herself of.

She hates many things, herself being one of them.

But she hates herself merely for the fact that even throughout this all, she still loves him.

And just as she acknowledges the look, it's gone again, replaced by indifference and hostility. But it'sthere and it's not dead and Sakura knows that it's a long shot but there's a chance that he's still there—her Sasuke-kun—deep down under the walls he's put up and the barbed wire he's arranged around his heart.

What's happened to you?

The words echo through her head silently as she lifts her arms—heavy, so, so heavy—and presses her fingertips to his cheek.

Why have things gone so wrong?

Pushing off from the wall slightly, she stares at him, her eyes never leaving his as she presses her palms to his face.

When did you become so… so evil?

His words reverberate through her mind again—'I can make it worth your while'—and when he presses his body against her, pressing her fully against the wall once more, she lets him.

Why… how can I still love you? What's wrong with me?

When he lifts his hands and brushes them against her neck as he pushes her hair back behind her shoulders, she shivers involuntarily.

I'm awful.

He leans in a presses his face into her neck, breathing her in deeply before planting sensual kisses against the soft skin.

I'm weak.

She gasps breathlessly and lets him kiss her skin, her hands sinking down to grip his shoulders with shaking arms.

I'm just as evil as you.

And when he finally kisses her—desperate, hungry, hard—she kisses him back despite the furious voices in her head screaming at her in disapproval. His hands wander and she lets them, gasping and moaning and shaking with every caress and kiss that meet her bare skin. She runs her fingers through his hair and grips the dark strands by the roots, trying to pull him closer to her despite the fact that it's physically impossible.

She wants so much more, even though she knows she shouldn't want any of this.

Her body is on fire and her mind keeps shutting out the warnings her brain is trying to send to her. Instead she lets the pleasure take over her, blinding the rest of her senses with the most thrilling feeling.

She loves him, and she hates herself for it.

A/N: This was originally simply a one-shot, with no other parts to this than what you've just read. But it is now becoming a trilogy of chapters that I'll finish next month. Part two will be posted next weekend. Or you can go read it on my Tumblr.

See you next week.