back from the dead...ahaa...ahahahaha...sorry for disappearing on you guys...i started this a while ago, but i couldn't get past this one part, and i was lazy...and yeah...i'm sorry D:

P.s. just an informer, this is not gonna be a Sasuke (sexy pirate) + Sakura (hot island chick)=constant unending fluff. if you guys ask me for a cute scene, and i can fit one in where i'm at in the story, fine, but i'm not writing this for the sake of fluffiness. I have a plot. oooh yes. yes i do. And i'm also sort of trying my hand at character development as well as understanding the psychological trauma my version of Naruto's characters are going through. This is a pirate adventure people, pirates did not grab up their special someone and coo sweet nothings into their ears all day while the rest of the crew starved to death or got scurvy. That said, i'm sure those of you who like the fluffy stuff will still enjoy this fic—trust me, i got plans ;D

Re-cap (cuz its been a while):

Sakura didn't know what had happened. One moment, Naruto was sharing Sasuke's past with her, and the next, he was doubled over in pain, blood flowing in a continuous stream from his stomach as the echo of a gunshot rang clearly in the air.

Before she had a chance to even begin to understand what had happened, Sasuke leaped over the railing which separated the quarterdeck from the main deck and stalked towards her, eyes smoldering with predatory ferocity.

Faster than even her trained reflexes could react, he grabbed her arm and yanked her into his quarters as Naruto fell to ground.

"Who the hell," Sasuke seethed, "do you think you are?"

As soon as they had entered his quarters, he had slammed the door shut behind him and shoved her across the room.

However, instead of falling, Sakura rocked forward into a catlike stance, countering his force with her own, so that she was merely pushed back. It was graceful, natural, and utterly infuriating to Sasuke.

Flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, Sakura stood and faced him, eyes serene as she observed him.

He twitched. How the hell is she so calm? For one thing, he'd kind of just shoved the girl across the room and shot Naruto—who she seemed to be getting along famously with—in the stomach. And here she was, regarding him like she would a sunny day.

"Answer the damn question." He bit out, voice hoarse from fury. (A/N: HAHAHAH. PUUUN. "bit" "hoarse"=(horse). Ha. Hahaha. Oh jeez.)

Instinctively, Sakura knew that if she asked him what he meant, it would irritate him even more. Besides, she could guess what it was about; obviously Naruto had broken some kind of rule between the two by speaking of Sasuke's past. Silently, she berated herself for questioning him. She was going to have to be more careful in the future.

Inwardly, Sakura sighed. Humans were so complicated. She really was out of her league here.

For a moment, she wished to be back in her forest, her home...she closed her eyes in remembrance. Ah, how she longed for the smell of the jungle after rain, the continuous thundering of waterfalls as they rushed into an abyss, and the taste of mist.

But then the longing would return; longing to explore the world, to learn, and most prominently to be near a certain black haired pirate. At this, her eyes flew open and focused in on Sasuke, looking very much like he might stab something.

Unsure of what to do, she handled him like she might a spooked beast. Her voice was soothing as she spoke, avoiding eye contact so as to not enrage him further. (A/n: I actually looked up how to deal with bears when I was writing this) "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Abruptly, he lurched toward her and grabbed her by the neck, effectively punctuating his next words. "You are never," he roughly shook her, his normally smooth voice saturated with unadulterated fury laced in poison. "to ask about that again." For a moment, they merely stared at each other, Sasuke seemingly attempting to stab her with his eyes while Sakura widened hers in surprise when her jaw twitched in irritation.

That slight, deceptively innocuous tick had been Sasuke's only warning as to what would happen in the imminent future, and he had blatantly missed it.

In an instant, Sakura snapped, and Sasuke became aware of the fact that he was airborne.

Having not had much human interaction in her lifetime, there were many things Sakura was entirely clueless about—not only about how to treat others, but also how she as a person would react to them.

Well, she had just learned something. It seemed she had a rather nasty temper, if the fact that Sasuke had smashed through the door to his cabin was any testament.

Sasuke, for his part, was attempting to figure out what had just happened. One second, he had Sakura cornered and defenseless, and the next his back was aching and he was on deck. He blinked. After a few seconds, he blinked again.

Nope. Still no idea what happened.

All attempts to understand the situation utterly vanished when the object of his bewilderment marched up the stairs.

Upon witnessing Sasuke's rather shocked and curious expression, Sakura decided she would deny punching him. She didn't know why she was so intent upon doing so, she just knew that was how she felt. As she would discover later, she had a rather childish side.

Plastering disbelief all over her face in what she hoped was a convincing manner, Sakura hurried over to Sasuke. "Are you okay? I can't believe how much the b—" Sakura searched herself for the word "—boat rocked just now."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes, confusion knitting his brow. He could have sworn she punche—Oh.

In his befuddlement (A/N: totally have always wanted to use that word…), he had been rubbing his cheek—wondering if he had imagined the sensation of her fist digging into his jaw—when he had managed to catch her eye and discover what Sasuke could only describe a mix between extreme annoyance and dark humor. Almost instantaneously, she turned away, but the moment had been more than enough for Sasuke to reach his conclusion.

He, Sasuke Uchiha, feared pirate and captain of the Avenging Fox, had just figuratively gotten his ass handed to him by a skinny female who for all intents and purposes shouldn't have been able to touch him, much less have enough strength to throw him through a door.

Any coherency in his thoughts could be summed up in two words:

Well damn.

Sakura found Naruto lying on his back where Sasuke had shot him. At the sight of him, she caught her breath.

From her early impression of Sasuke and Naruto's relationship, it had appeared to her that though Sasuke often grumbled about his blond-haired blue-eyed counterpart, he would protect him with the same primal ferocity as he would himself, and vice versa. Looking at Naruto now, it seemed she couldn't have been more wrong.

His originally white shirt had all but been dyed red with congealed blood. From her life on the island—the Cani tribe was not exactly civilized in its treatment towards criminals— Sakura already knew that there was no hope of Naruto's survival.

Upon acknowledging this, a weight she had never experienced before pressed down on her heart, and tears flooded her eyes. She had hoped they could be friends, and now any possibility of that had been stolen from her.

As a tear slipped down her cheek—he looked so peaceful— the part of Sakura that was so driven by instinct reminded her that death was a part of life. Why grieve the inevitable?

And yet, the part of Sakura who was a child, the part that had never truly understood what death meant, who had always wondered why members of the Cani Tribe mourned lost ones, whispered back, but he was going to be my friend…

In her agony, she bent down to embrace Naruto's body, only to feel it stir a moment later. Shocked, she unceremoniously released him, causing his head to hit the deck with a rather unpleasant sounding thump.

"Oww Sakura-chan," he rubbed the back of his aching head, voice heavy with sleep. "That hurt…"

Sakura's eyes widened more than she had previously thought possible, and she leapt to her feet. "You were d-dead. You are d-dead." Utterly bewildered, Sakura was unsure whether to hug him or to grab the nearest plank and beat him with it. Instead, she settled for an uneasy compromise in which she did neither and just stared at him.

For a moment, Naruto looked confused. "Dead?" What is she talking abo—Oh. Grinning, Naruto dusted himself off and stood. "Ne, Sakura-chan, I can't die! I'm—" he flexed his muscles for dramatic effect. "Invincible!" He lifted up his shirt, revealing his bloodied tan stomach. "See?"

Aside from the blood, any trace of the wound had all but vanished, and in its place was a glowing circular tattoo. Awestruck, Sakura watched dumbly as Naruto stooped and plucked up the bullet she had seen enter his stomach from the deck. He held it up to her, a mischievous spark in his eye. "See? No harm done."

As a former general of war, Neji Hyuuga had seen it all. He had met every type of fighter imaginable—from those who killed out of their own thirst for blood to those who would sacrifice it all to save those they loved.

Never had he witnessed anything akin to the raw beauty dancing in front of his eyes—for that's what she was doing, dancing. With more grace than he had thought possible (and he was a Hyuuga, he knew about grace), she, dark hair splaying about her tanned shoulders, twirled her chains as sinuously as if they were snakes twisting of their own accord.

Most shocking of all was the large grin plastered across her face. It was unique to any expression he had seen in battle. Completely devoid of any malicious intent or morbid secrecy, it came across as childlike and innocent. Had it not been for the onslaught of guards attempting to subdue her or the impish twinkle in her eye, he would have believed her to be actually dancing, so carefree was her countenance.

As he stood, transfixed by her raw allure, an unfamiliar urge welled up in his stomach, one he hadn't acknowledged in years; impulse.

Neji was a strategist; that is, he did not act upon silly things like mere impulses. He took everything into account, odds, what could be gained from winning a campaign, what could be lost, what ships could be used to sneak into a loosely guarded bay, what group of soldiers would be best suited for such missions, etc. And if Neji was honest with himself, he could see that there was no obvious benefit of acting on his impulse, such a brash action could even pose potential danger for his crew.

But well, he felt like it.

Thus, Neji made his way towards the director of the auction—whose composure was less than intact—a cunning ploy already coalescing in his mind as to how he could save himself a couple shillings. (A/N: yes, i am aware that shillings were an english currency, but to keep things simple i've decided to just use them)

The director of the auction was a man named Jaques Cledes Tailor. He was a man of relatively modest stature and sparse fortune. Despite all this, he had an absurd amount of pride—especially in his dark curly hair—and thus carried himself much like a rooster strutting about a farm.

For Jaques, hosting this auction had been the opportunity of a lifetime, and more than he could afford to lose was on the line if the event turned to disaster—which would be an understatement at this point.

In horror, he realized that this was likely the end of him—in this lifetime, it seemed, he would never experience the bliss of abundance to which the wealthy lay claim. Back in France they would mock him, and any semblance of progress he had achieved on the social ladder would hence cease to exist.

By far the worst revelation of all was that the stress would accelerate his hereditary hair (A/N: alliteration, anyone?) loss. At this, his world was cast into shadow, and Jaques realized that he had reached such a level of human suffering that he had no longer the ability to perceive light. His world was one of his own desolate pain and death, and as far as he could see there was naught but ominous grey. Would he ever be happy again? Nay, it seemed a fitting conclusion for the life of one so innocent, so harmless in the affairs of men. It was evident he would forever remain trapped in this world, his only company that of the shadow that weighed so onerously on his soul.

"How much for the pair?"

Jaques spluttered, amazed at the madness which had so swiftly infected his mind. It had seemed only a moment he had been present in this world, but already he felt as if the shadow had indeed spoken. Then again, perhaps time traveled differently here, or perhaps some tragic incident had befallen him and caused him to misplace his memories. Perhaps the madness had eroded them long ago.

The shadow cleared its throat. "Up here."

Stunned by the rather commanding quality of the voice, Jaques looked up.

And broke into a particularly exuberant bout of titillation, complete with hugging and the like. "Monsieur! You have saved me! I am forever in your debt! What would you have me do my saveur? I shall pledge ma vie à vous! We shall become partenaires, the sea will bow to our audacious férocité!"

Neji, for his part, was counting down in his head. If the little frenchman did not release him in five seconds...

Thankfully (for Jaques, at least), Jaques seemed to remember himself. "Ah, je suis désolé! I did not mean to intrude upon your person It's just that—"

Ever a brusque man, Neji repeated his question, gesturing to the spectacle of flying chains and guards. "How much for the pair?"

Jaques grinned. "Pour vous, monsieur? Free. If you can subdue them, that is."

Neji smirked. "That won't be an issue." In an instant, he had whipped out his twin cutlasses and charged into battle, calling a name as he did so, though at this point he was too far away for Jaques to make it out.

For a moment, the tiny frenchman pondered the events which had just transpired. Then he took off running, meaning to gather his belongings and join the man who had so courageously freed him from his dark world—(better described as his self imposed drama).

It had been quite simple really. There was an obvious weakness to using chains as weapons, but Neji supposed she could only improvise in her current situation.

Nevertheless, he had won.

Tenten was, for lack of a better word, flabbergasted. One second she was back to back with Icoto, successfully warding off the mass of guards, and the next her chains were pinned to the ground by two well placed cutlasses. Turning to Icoto for support, she widened her eyes when she found him kneeled, weapon dangling from his hands uselessly, though there was no signs of his attacker.

Facing front once more, Tenten blanched. At the end of those swords was a Hyuuga.

As a weapon's mistress, Tenten had been on more than her fair share of assassination missions (though she also worked as a mercenary and sometimes even an entertainer), some of which had taken place in Japan. Once, King Hiashi Hyuuga himself had requested her services—corrupted nobility and all that. Meeting one Hyuuga had been enough—their imperious mannerisms and unsettling pale eyes (she swore Hiashi could see her very soul) were unique to their family alone. It was easy enough to spot one in a crowd.

As well as their physical attributes, Hyuugas also had a knack for being equally gifted in both the fighting artes and the intellectual mind games of the overly sophisticated. To put it simply, they were trouble.

If the skill in which this one had effectively disarmed her was any indicator, he would effortlessly pose a threat in a serious fight. And as she didn't have her beloved weapons at the moment, it was a risk she couldn't afford to take.

Her only choice was to lay low and wait for her moment. However, judging by the particularly keen intelligence reflected in the Hyuuga's eyes, that moment, when it did come, would have to be perfect. She needed a plan.

Thus, she hung her head, pretending to submit. As soon as he let his guard down, she'd either kill him or slip away. Anticipation gnawed at her stomach as she wondered which slave outpost she would be taken to, as well as if they'd try to torture her into submission. The image brought a smile to her lips. As if they could.

The Hyuuga sheathed his swords and twisted her chains around his forearms, effectively eliminating any potential of utilizing her previous chain whipping strategy, and began leading her towards his ship, simultaneously directing a group of men to bring Icoto as well.

Wait. His ship?

Unfortunately for Tenten, she wasn't exactly the most talented at dealing with surprises. When something jumped out at her, she'd forget herself and kill it on impulse. That was just how she was, and had always been.

So when she fully registered the fact that a Hyuuga of all people had captured her and was leading her to his ship—ships meant being surrounded by water, meaning that unless she could escape that very night, which was doubtful if not laughable, she was screwed—any pretense of being a meek, acquiescent prisoner flew out the door.

She wrenched her entire body backwards, the force intended to stun the Hyuuga into releasing her. Instead, he was ready for her, and continued to drag her—despite her struggle—to his ship, an slight smirk upon his face at her antics.

Meanwhile, Tenten's internal dialogue went something like this:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Ino Yamanaka was the gemstone of her village; she was well liked, beautiful, intelligent, and kind.

As well as a damn good actress.

Her hand maid was the only one who knew her true nature, how materialistic, vain, naggy, and loud she really was, and Ino intended to keep it that way.

After all, if she kept up her little charade, it meant multiple suitors, which meant gifts from said suitors, meaning a rather shocking abundance of jewelry.

Oh how she loved her jewels.

Yet another suitor bade her farewell for the day, and as Ino escorted herself inside her father's estate, she fingered her new necklace, a pleased smile gracing her features.

It was only when she was in her room that she allowed the mind numbing exhaustion to surface. As fantastic an actress as she was, sometimes it was rather difficult to maintain the charade.

Sighing, she removed her cloak, uncaring that her hand maiden was missing, and stepped behind her dressing screen. A couple of muttered curses later, she had managed to shimmy her way out of her corset and underskirt and donned her nightgown, uncaring that her previous attire was a rumpled heap on the floor.

Approaching the mirror, she proceeded to attack the legion of pins constricting her golden mane into a fashionable coif. It was only when her hair hung straight and unbridled down her back that she relaxed, taking a good look at herself.

A moment later, she noticed the man lying in her bed.

Ah, I just love cliffhangers don't you? Especially ones having to do with bedrooms...and men in bedrooms...with girls in their nightgowns. It's a promising situation, is it not? ;D

Ooh, what do you think of my new character Jaques? I like him. He's very dramatic, ne?

Anyway read and review. Sasuke loves reviews. They make him smile.