Devilfruit

The road twisted like a ribbon beneath the night sky, stony and stained with blood. Above it, stars gleamed like jewels.

Sasuke stared up into the inky darkness and knew that what (or rather, who) he saw among the tangled branches shouldn't have surprised him.

Fate had never been more of a bitch to him than she was when Sakura (literally) fell back into his life after so many years, pink hair twisting in the wind as it surged all around her. He stared at her in shock as she tumbled down through the tunnel of trees, clothing catching and ripping, and he wondered how death could possibly involve any more clichés.

She was his long lost love. She was a damsel in distress. She was an "angel" falling from heaven.

…She was his ex-teammate, and an enemy.

Sasuke huffed and slanted his eyes at Karin; having been feigning sleep for an hour and clutching his arm, she'd finally let go and slumped to the side. He could still feel the ghost of her touch lingering on him, and shivered at the thought.

But for now, her chest rose evenly. He was safe.

A quick glance at Juugo told him the same. The large man's eyes were fluttering rapidly and he was clutching at his heart—a fitful sleep, maybe, but he was still down for the count.

Suigetsu's loud snores didn't even warrant a look-over.

In a quick shuffle of movement, he'd darted across the road, ran well into the edge of the foliage, and caught Sakura. She didn't startle at all, didn't even open her eyes. The coolness of her body almost worried him, but then he reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to care. It wasn't his job to care anymore.

He settled her in the grass, stared over his shoulder at Team Hebi, and then focused on her again. Sakura had grown!

Inwardly, he slapped himself. Had he been expecting her to stay twelve years old forever? Something in his expression softened as he thought this; he could feel it changing and hated it, but couldn't stop it from happening.

It felt like the piece of him that had been missing was finally back.

Her hair was longer; it was as vivid and lively as ever, such a contrast to her graying skin. There was dried blood smeared on her face, and her lips her were curled into a painful smile. Every one of her features looked like they'd been carved into place, as if she were made of stone.

She was absolutely perfect in the sickest of ways, and it made him want to rage at her. He wanted to call her "annoying" again. He wanted to watch her start fisting handfuls of her shirt nervously, and then wait for the "Sasuke-kun, will you…?" that always followed. He wanted to shoot her down mercilessly and watch as her eyes squinted in sadness and glazed over in teenage tears held in the bottle of her pathetic little broken heart, and then he wanted to step back for the breakdown and laugh.

He wanted to see her cry, damnit.

Her missed her weakness…and in time, it had become his own. Why was he thinking about her now? If he were a true traitor, he'd reach into the depths of his pockets and pull out a single, silver kunai, and plunge it through her pretty little throat, listening to the gurgled scream that followed.

But he couldn't do that. Because…even on a contract to the devil, he'd lied.

Sasuke wasn't a leaf-nin anymore. He was far from being pure of heart. But he hadn't completely sold himself to evil, either.

He had time to get Sakura to Konoha before sunrise. If he carried her on his back, he could personally deliver her to Tsunade before his team woke.

He had the ability to end her life, and the potential to save it, so what did he do? After warring with himself for nearly ten minutes, ignoring the alarming rate at which her skin lost even more color, he carried her halfway.

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(And sent an emergency flare into the three o'clock sky.)

Fin.