(FFML)Suiren, Chapter Ten: Days…

DAYS…

 Though she couldn’t sense any pursuit, Temari scarcely dared to look back as she raced across the dusty canyon floor. Desperately, she searched for the narrow side-fissure that she’d noticed earlier. Maybe if she hid in there, that- that _thing_ wouldn’t be able to find her.

In her gut, Temari knew there was no escape, but her legs wouldn’t stop. The blood roaring in her ears drowned out even the sound of her own footfalls, but she could still hear Kankuro’s screams. Was it in her mind, or was he still screaming? She didn’t know; she didn’t want to know.

She shouldn’t have left him behind. She was Sabaku no Temari, daughter of the Kazekage, strongest kunoichi of her generation; her cowardice was a disgrace to her clan and her village, but to leave her own brother to that fate- for the briefest of moments, Temari hesitated, turning to glance over her shoulder.

She didn’t see the shallow fold of stone that rose before her feet, concealed as it was by the naked glare of the sun, but even then, she should have been able to recover. She should have rolled with the fall, but instead she landed hard, skinning her palms and burying her face in the dirt.

“D-dammit!” After a lifetime of training, was this all she was- just a clumsy, frightened child? A premonition of doom seized Temari as a long shadow fell over her. She had failed, and now she would die. Choking back tears of pain, the blonde girl gingerly twisted around, intending to face death head on; she could manage that much, at least.

When Temari looked up, however, it was the form of a man and not a monster that loomed over her. “Ba… Baki-sensei?” she asked weakly, struggling to make out features within the silhouette.

“Not quite,” the tall figure corrected with a sarcastic lilt, leaning forward so Temari could see her better.

A woman? Baki-sensei had said that nobody ever came to this forsaken place, but that was definitely a woman’s voice… and a woman’s mesh-clad chest, Temari realized, when her eyes finally adjusted to the light. Feeling foolish and slightly self-conscious, the Sand nin lifted her gaze.

“I… do I know you?” The world seemed to slow for the young kunoichi as she stared at the stranger’s face. From the long, tousled pink hair to the wicked smile and blazing green eyes, this was doubtless the most striking woman Temari had ever seen- and she seemed so familiar, but Temari couldn’t remember who this person was, or how they’d met.

Her confusion intensified when she noticed the swirling leaf emblem carved upon the woman’s forehead protector. A Konoha ninja, this deep in Hidden Sand territory? “Who are you and what are you doing here?” the blonde demanded, drawing her legs under her and wincing as a stab of pain lanced through her left ankle. From the feel of it, she’d twisted it badly when she fell.

“I was hopin’ ya could tell _me_ that,” the older kunoichi quipped, offering a hand to help Temari up. When Temari simply glared at her, the pink-haired woman breathed a dramatic sigh. “I’m here ’cause _you’re_ here,” she explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “As ta why _you’re_ here… fuck if I know. Maybe ya like torturin’ yourself?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Temari was getting rather annoyed with the whole ‘mysterious stranger’ bit, but she couldn’t sense any hostile intent from the woman. Moreover, even though neither of her questions had been answered, Temari couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew this foreign shinobi from somewhere.

Reluctantly, Temari reached up to grasp the offered hand. “How am I ‘torturing’ myself?” she asked skeptically.

Green eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief, and a smirk bloomed on her ‘rescuer’s’ lips. “Well, _I_ would’a woken up by now,” the woman observed wryly, pulling the Temari to her feet.

§

“Huh?” Reflexively schooling her breathing and muscle tension to the semblance of sleep, Temari began taking inventory. She was fully clothed, though the clothes didn’t feel like her own. The air was still and dank, indicating she was underground, and she didn’t sense anyone else in the room with her.

Her hands and feet were unbound but she couldn’t feel any chakra within her body. She supposed that would be too much to hope for, but a knot of frustration still formed in the pit of her stomach. She was still alive; that was a start.

Slowly opening her eyes, Temari stared at the darkened ceiling of her cell, wondering when the lights would come on. Her captors were making no effort to rob her of her sense of time, but that strange dream had woken her early, leaving her mildly dazed.

That woman had appeared in her dreams again. In reality, it had been her father- no, Kazekage-sama, who had found her lying pitifully in the dust, still wracked by terror from her first encounter with Shuukaku. Kankuro hadn’t been screaming; he’d passed out immediately. She’d been the one screaming.

Even now, shame gnawed at her heart, but she viciously pushed it aside. That was a lifetime ago. She’d been only twelve then, though she’d been doing D class missions since she was ten. There were chuunin who quaked in fear at the mere mention of Gaara, but she had never been that weak.

All of that was immaterial at the moment. That woman had appeared again, and now that she was awake, Temari could remember where she had seen the pink-haired kunoichi before: it had been in another dream. She’d dreamt of Gaara’s fight with Sasuke a couple nights earlier, and that woman had been standing on the battlefield in place of the judge.

That small, anomalous detail had seemed only slightly odd at the time, but now the blonde girl began to wonder: Who was she, and why did she feel so… familiar? Temari seldom remembered her dreams, but she was starting to suspect that the woman’s presence in them wasn’t uncommon.

Were they spying on her? It was definitely possible, but if that were the case, her ‘watchers’ were being very sloppy. Perhaps they didn’t care if she knew, as there wasn’t much she could do to stop them. Temari’s mental defenses were not poor, but she was a wind-element specialist, not an expert in interrogation genjutsu.

The captive ninja’s musings were interrupted when the lights came on. Apparently, she hadn’t woken _so_ early, after all. Rising, Temari silently began rolling up bedding. Her jailers would take it when they brought her breakfast, and they would leave sooner if she prepared it for them.

Moving over to the sink in the corner of the room, Temari washed her hands and face, leaving the bedpan where it lay; they’d let her use a proper toilet if she asked. Though she still felt some disdain at how ’soft’ they were, Temari was glad that the Village of the Hidden Leaf treated prisoners of war with more dignity than her homeland did.

Exactly ten minutes later, like clockwork, there was a knock on her cell door. Turning away, Temari placed her hands in the two red circles on the wall, spreading her legs and positioning her feet in a pair of identical circles on the floor.

“Come,” she called. A familiar prickle of chakra flowed across her skin as the wards came to life, holding her in place, and she heard the door open.

She wasn’t subjected to the routine pat-down and room-tossing ritual this morning, which meant that it was probably the one with the monkey mask. He never touched her when she was restrained, or gave her cell more than a glance, but Temari wasn’t foolish enough to think it was because of complacency. This one seemed far too sharp for that, and unless she was mistaken, he was a member of the Hyuuga clan.

In short order her bedding was removed and the smell of food wafted to her nose. The sound of the door closing preceded her release by almost exactly a minute, as always, but when she removed her hands from the wall and turned around, she found that she wasn’t alone. The monkey-masked ANBU was still standing silently in the corner, watching her.

That was the other thing about this one; she never sensed him. It was like he didn’t disturb the air at all when he moved. It was more than a little eerie, but Temari refused to let her discomfort show. “What is it today, Monkey-Man? Time to renew my block?” she asked gamely, holding out her arms.

The ANBU continued to stare at her for another second or two, his head turned ever so slightly to the side, as though he were cocking an eyebrow. Somehow, the gesture radiated bemusement.

“You won’t tell me your name, so I have to call you something,” Temari replied with a hint of sarcasm, by now accustomed to the man’s expressive silences.

To Temari’s surprise, she could actually hear him chuckling behind his mask as he moved forward and began pressing the points that would seal her chakra flow. “Why don’t you do this during the security check?” she asked, partly because she was curious and partly to distract herself from the deft hands roaming over her body.

“Would you prefer that I did?” The ANBU replied earnestly. “You aren’t desperate enough to attack me and you haven’t yet formulated an escape plan that you’re confident in, so you won’t make any unnecessary moves that might negatively impact your position.” His voice made it clear that he was stating a fact, not conjecture.

Although he was absolutely correct, Temari suddenly felt the urge to prove the Hyuuga wrong; she didn’t appreciate being taken lightly. It took her a moment to quell this rogue impulse. Anything she tried would amount to little more than a childish tantrum, and she was determined not to make a further disgrace of herself while she was in the hands of the enemy.

That didn’t mean she had to be happy about it, though. “I’d _prefer_ that you didn’t do it at all,” Temari replied, crossing her arms as the Hyuuga finished his task and backed away. A smirk crossed the blonde’s lips as her jailer gave a helpless shrug. “I didn’t think you’d go for that, but it you’re taking requests, I’ve got a message you can pass along…”

§

Taking a long draught of her iced tea, Yamanaka Ino leaned back in her chair. “So are we speaking again, or are you just going to sit there and glare at me?” she prodded, peering across the table at her silent companion. “Does it still hurt?” she asked after a moment.

“Why would it hurt?” Sakura growled, her voice husky and dripping with sarcasm. “After all, you only set my _ass_ on _fire_!”

Frowning, Ino put down her drink. “I apologized for that, didn’t I? I even gave you the camera because I felt bad!” One of her cameras, anyway; Sakura still didn’t know about the one she’d planted in the trees. “Besides, you put my arm in a sling for a week! As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”

Flinching, Sakura looked away. “You’re still making me buy you lunch,” she muttered in a small, guilty voice. Reaching for her water, Sakura shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was wearing an un-zipped gray hoodie over her favorite red dress today, but the black exercise shorts she normally wore were absent, and from the way she kept adjusting the hem of her dress, it almost looked like…

“Sakura, are you wearing anything under that?” Ino asked, making a face. “That’s pretty daring. It took you long enough to graduate out of those kiddy panties, but you really should wear _something_. You’re gonna give people the wrong idea.”

“S-shut up!” Sakura sputtered, coloring. “It’s your fault! _Everything_ rubs!” she hissed, looking around to make sure nobody else had heard. “The damn burn cream leaves stains on my panties, too. I got sick of it; it doesn’t really hurt anymore, anyway. It just _itches_…”

When Sakura returned her gaze to the blonde girl, Ino was pleased to see that all trace of guilt had vanished from Sakura’s fiery green eyes. “I can’t believe you used a fucking exploding tag on me!” the (naturally) pink-haired girl spat in wounded indignation.

“It was just a practice tag. It wouldn’t have hurt you if your pants hadn’t caught on fire,” Ino defended, a little unnerved by her friend’s casual profanity; she’d heard Sakura curse before, just never so freely.

Sakura had probably gotten that vile tongue from Shikamaru’s stupid dad. When they used to have sleep-overs, Ino’s dad sometimes managed to foist babysitting duties off on the elder Nara, and like Shikamaru’s dad, Sakura could swear up a blue streak when she wanted to- as long as ‘mom’ wasn’t watching (also just like the elder Nara).

“It was still mean!” Sakura grumped, though she didn’t follow up with some unimaginative, pork-based epithet- a sure sign that her ire was fading- _finally_. It had been almost a week since their fight, and Ino was really getting tired of dealing with ‘Angry Sakura.’

After the other girls had stopped picking on her so much, Sakura had begun to develop a sort of rebellious streak. Most of the time she was the same polite, soft-spoken Sakura that Ino had always known, but if you made her mad, she tended to just lose it. ‘Angry Sakura’ knew no restraint, and liked to scream, break things, and (apparently) run around in public without any knickers on.

Usually, Sakura went back to normal after she’d had a chance to vent a bit, but it seemed that anger wasn’t the only thing that could Sakura make go insane; as Ino had discovered, a horny Sakura was even more dangerous than an angry Sakura. “You were _so_ asking for it! You were being a total perv!” Ino accused, feeling her cheeks warm.

“I keep telling you, that was an accident!” Sakura snapped, slapping her palm on the table. After few seconds under Ino’s critical stare, Sakura’s face went several shades darker than her hair and she wilted a like eighth-day cherry blossom. “Okay, I was kind of trying to freak you out,” she admitted, “but I didn’t mean to do _that_!”

“Riiight,” Ino drawled, unconvinced. “What kind of kunoichi would I be if I let something like that get to me?” Truthfully, it had almost worked; when Sakura had started rubbing up against her knee and moaning- *Ugh… crazy forehead-girl!* Taking another sip of her tea, Ino resisted the urge to fan her burning cheeks.

At first, Sakura adamant refusal to set her up with Sasuke had forced Ino to consider the possibility that Anko had lied to her, and Sakura wasn’t really a lesbian. Then, of course, Sakura had shown her true, pervy colors, and it became clear which potential relationship the other girl was trying to protect.

In her own strange way, Sakura seemed to be testing the waters to see if they could be more than friends. *I wish she’d just come out and tell me!* Ino hated beating around the bush, but she didn’t want to hurt Sakura’s feelings too badly. A firm, direct rejection would be best, so she had to wait for Sakura to confess to her.

Ino’s brooding was cut short when the waitress arrived with their food. “Can I get you anything else? Some more tea?” The kimono-clad woman asked pleasantly, setting down a platter of sliced, raw meat next to the burner in the center of their table.

“Please,” Ino replied, handing over her empty glass. “Also, can we have some more pickled vegetables?”

“Of course. I’ll bring those right out.”

“Ino!” Sakura snapped as the waitress moved away.

“You’ve been stuffing your face since we got here. I’ve hardly had any,” Ino pointed out, generously scooping meat onto the griddle with the supplied tongs.

Sakura made a face but didn’t comment. Ino had chosen Chouji’s favorite restaurant for her victory lunch, and ‘Yakiniku Q’ wasn’t cheap. Sakura was probably trying to fill up on pickles so she wouldn’t have to pay for extra helpings of meat.

“You should be thanking me!” the blonde girl chirped. “You never treat yourself to anything nice; all you ever eat is dango!” Sticking out her tongue in disgust, Ino turned a few smoking slices of beef so they wouldn’t burn.

Stiffening, Sakura stared at Ino as though she’d just been dealt a grave insult. “I- I don’t eat dango that often!” she sputtered.

“At least twice a week,” Ino noted with a smirk. It was actually kind of irritating; Sakura could eat junk food like there was a hole in her head and never gain an ounce. “I’m surprised you’re not as hyper as your ‘teacher’ is, the way you suck down sweets,” Ino needled, deducing the source of the other girl’s offense.

By the sour expression on Sakura’s face, she’d hit the nail on the head. “I guess I’m just lucky,” Sakura said acidly. “You don’t have to sound so jealous, though. I wouldn’t mind having a little more of a figure- just not so much that I’d need to bind up my thighs to keep them from jiggling all over the place.”

Ino drew a sharp breath as the dagger slipped between her ribs. Even with their history, she hadn’t expected such ferocity from someone that supposedly ‘liked’ her. “Maybe we should order some more meat, then,” she ground out through clenched teeth. The balm of satisfaction soothed Ino’s wounds as the pink-haired girl paled.

“I can barely afford _this_,” Sakura protested weakly, her posture radiating surrender. “I need to buy some new panties, too,” she added more quietly, giving Ino a pleading look.

“Fine, whatever…” Ino conceded. Hopefully, Sakura wouldn’t think to invite her along for that little shopping excursion- and the impromptu ‘fashion show’ that was sure to follow. Before, it would’ve been fun, but now the thought of seeing Sakura posing and twirling through a procession of too-sexy underthings felt kind of weird.

“So, where have you been holed-up these last few days?” Ino clumsily segued. “I visited your house once, but you weren’t around. Your mom said you spend a lot of time at the library, but I’ve never seen you there either.”

Blinking, Sakura was quick to cover the look of guilt that flashed across her face, but not quick enough. “Ah- yeah…” Hemming uncertainly, Sakura stared down at the table. “I _have_ been studying, but mom wouldn’t like it if she knew where.”

“Oh… I see.” Ino could guess what that meant. “I still can’t believe you’re training with ANBU,” she whispered in a voice colored with enough distaste to mask her envy. You couldn’t just apply to join the elite, black-ops division of Konoha’s military police; you had to be selected, which meant that somebody thought very highly of Sakura’s skills.

“I’m not _training_ with them,” Sakura corrected, flying into fit of blushing modesty that would’ve done Hyuuga Hinata proud (or not, as the case may be). “Anko is ANBU and the assignment she left for me is really weird, so they’re letting me study in one of their buildings.”

“And I suppose you’re not allowed to say what this ‘assignment’ involves,” Ino wagered with a wry smirk.

Sakura’s downcast gaze was answer enough. “It’s really nothing special,” Sakura complained halfheartedly, prodding a piece of beef with her chopsticks. “Anko found out that I did a lot extra credit reports in the academy, so she gave me something like that to keep me busy. It’s actually kind of boring.”

“Oh, come on; you know you love that stuff,” Ino teased, grinning. “‘Haruno Sakura, Super Research Ninja!’ Poor, lonely ol’ Yomiko-san at the library is your biggest fan.”

“Ino! That’s awful!” Glaring at her companion, Sakura began picking strips of meat off the griddle. “She’s really nice! She just needs to get out more.”

“Sort of like someone else I used to know,” Ino suggested none-too-subtly. Moving to take her own share, Ino paused to examine Sakura’s face more closely. The other kunoichi still had dark rings under her eyes, but they weren’t as bad as before. “Seriously, is that all you do, anymore? ‘Study?’” Ino baited suggestively, hoping to draw Sakura out on the subject of romance.

Unfortunately, the pink-haired girl’s mind was elsewhere. “I asked Anko to teach me a technique or something I could practice while she was gone, but she said she didn’t have time,” Sakura growled. From the way she was glaring at her plate, Ino got the impression that Anko had put the refusal less politely.

Lifting her head with a jerk, Sakura stared directly at the blonde girl, her face lighting up like a firework. “But that thing you did with the grass was incredible, Ino-chan!” she gushed, emerald eyes sparkling like the sea. “Do you think you could teach me that?”

For a moment, Ino was taken aback. When they were kids, Sakura’s begging technique had involved a lot of staring at her feet and fidgeting, so Ino was caught off guard when Sakura started boring into her soul with those huge, adorable puppy-dog eyes. “What?” she managed confusedly.

“You created it yourself, right? It’s not one of your family techniques?” Sakura half-praised, half-led with the aplomb of a used sword salesman.

“Yes, I- No!” Ino corrected, recovering her balance with some effort. “It’s my first unique ninjutsu! What makes you think I’d teach to _you_?”

“Iiinoo-chaaan!” Sakura whined, looking even more pathetic as a tiny frown pinched her lips beneath those twin, lantern-like orbs of infinite sadness.

“W-work on your own techniques!” Ino spat, trying to solidify her brain through sheer force of will. It felt like her intelligence was about to start running out of her ears like warm strawberry jam.

“I can’t,” Sakura retorted. “I screwed up; I’m not allowed to experiment with genjutsu anymore without someone to watch me.”

Shock was Ino’s salvation. “What? Really?” she asked. She’d never heard of _anyone_ being banned from an entire _school_ of jutsu, before. At Sakura’s nod, a frown of consideration crossed Ino’s lips. “But you’re still allowed to use the ones you’ve already learned?” she cross-examined.

“Some of them,” Sakura admitted hesitantly.

“Hmm…” It was a tough decision. On the one hand, Ino was proud of her new technique, and didn’t want to share- especially not with her rival. On the other hand, if she could get something useful in return… “Teach me your concealment technique and I’ll teach it to you,” she offered seriously.

“Eh?” Now it was Sakura’s turn to flinch surprise, breaking the terrible gorgon gaze of petrifying cuteness. “But- but that’s like my trump card,” Sakura waffled. “That’s like me asking you to teach me the Shintenshin.”

“But I _can’t_ teach you the Shintenshin.” Ino countered. “It’s a Yamanaka clan technique; my dad would _kill_ me if he found out, so that’s not a fair comparison.”

“But it’s my best technique!” Sakura protested, looking more reluctant by the moment.

“You shouldn’t ask for something if you don’t want to give anything in return,” Ino lectured haughtily, hiding her disappointment. The ability to vanish in plain sight would’ve made the Shintenshin so much easier to use, and if Sakura had learned it from Anko, it might even be some sort of secret ANBU assassination technique.

“How about that thing you used on me in the hospital?” Ino suggested, relenting at the sight of Sakura’s crestfallen expression. So maybe it wasn’t invisibility, but Ino could think of a lot of uses for a technique that created a ‘phantom stalker’ to menace your enemy.

Confusion clouded her friend’s face for several seconds, followed by a convincing flash of realization. “Um… I really didn’t do anything to you that time, Ino-chan,” the green-eyed mistress of lies proclaimed with perfectly feigned innocence. “Are you sure it wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t drugged,” Ino interrupted curtly. “It was too convincing; when you whispered in my ear, I could feel your breath, and when you grabbed my legs, I couldn’t move them! It was definitely a genjutsu, and I’m kind of offended by the way you keep pretending that you don’t know anything about it,” the blonde girl declared.

Silence reigned for almost a minute as Ino glared sternly across the table, daring Sakura to deny it. At first, it seemed like Sakura was going to continue being stubborn, but then the innocent mask began to crumble, revealing a very worried frown underneath. This wasn’t just a guilty, ‘Crap, she caught me!’ sort of frown; this was a full-blown, horrified, ‘Oh my god, what have I done?’ frown.

“What?” Ino snapped nervously.

“Um… you’re not… ’seeing’ me, anymore, are you?” Sakura ventured with a hopeful hitch in her voice that portended certain doom should the answer be ‘Yes.’

Ino shook her head. “No, it stopped right after you- the _other_ ‘you’ tripped me,” she replied, watching Sakura’s body language carefully. It was starting look like Sakura really hadn’t been aware of the doppelganger- but that didn’t make sense at all. “When you caught me, it felt kind of weird. My skin got all tingly,” Ino added, trying to recall if she’d experienced any other strange sensations that night.

Staring down at the table in thought, Sakura gave the smallest of nods, as if one of her suspicions had just been confirmed. “Mine did too,” she agreed. After another long pause, Sakura finally lifted her head. “If that’s the case, it might’ve been… something I can’t really talk about.” Catching Ino’s gaze, Sakura’s eyes were apologetic, but also troubled.

“That’s not going to cut it, forehead,” Ino returned flatly. Sakura’s life had been one giant mystery over the last month, and Ino wasn’t having it anymore. If her friend was in some sort of trouble, she wanted to know what was going on. “‘Might’ve been?’ How can you not be sure, and why can’t you talk about it?” Ino demanded.

“I can’t talk about it because it’s a- I think it might’ve been a kinjutsu,” Sakura whispered, dropping to an almost inaudible hiss at the last.

“Y- you used a _kinjutsu_ on me?” Ino blurted, too stunned to lower her voice. Glancing around nervously, she was relieved to see that nobody was staring at them. She almost asked Sakura where she had learned such a thing, but then Ino remembered who Sakura’s ‘tutor’ was.

“I didn’t use it on you! I used it on _me_, I think.” Under Ino’s impatient stare, Sakura continued. “It’s… it works sort of like a genjutsu attack stored in a fuuinjutsu trap, except that my body serves as the ’seal,’ somehow,” Sakura explained. “I’m still trying to figure out all the details; I can’t even turn it off.”

“So it’s always ‘armed?’” Ino reasoned aloud, receiving a nod of confirmation from the other girl. That would certainly explain a few things, but even something like that wasn’t enough for a technique to be declared kinjutsu. “Which part of it is forbidden?” Ino pressed. “The attack or the trap?”

“Both, probably,” Sakura admitted, now oozing guilt. “From what I can tell, either part should be fatal- for me!” she added hastily, wincing as Ino gripped the edge of the table.

“That doesn’t make it better!” Ino growled. She was incensed at her friend’s stupidity, but most of her anger was directed elsewhere. “I can’t believe it! How could Hokage-sama assign that psycho to be your teacher if she’s just gonna teach you stuff like that?”

Absorbed in dark thoughts of getting the examiner in front of the village council, Ino nearly missed the shifty way Sakura averted her eyes. “What? Did she teach you something else she shouldn’t have?” Ino demanded.

“Anko didn’t teach me the technique,” Sakura murmured softly. “I didn’t learn it from a scroll, either. I invented it,” she declared, her voice growing firmer with each word. When Sakura lifted her gaze, her eyes were hard, like she was ready to accept her punishment.

“You invented it?” Ino echoed in confusion. “You can’t just ‘invent’ kinjutsu. ANBU or Hokage-sama has to review a technique before-” A sudden, sinking sensation made Ino stop. “ANBU reviewed your technique and declared it forbidden?” Ino asked, staring wide-eyed at Sakura.

At the pink-haired girl’s nod, the pieces started falling into place like heavy iron gears, each one landing with almost painful force. “Wow… that’s crazy,” Ino managed, at a loss for words. “Is that why they banned you from creating genjutsu?” she guessed, the wheels in her head spinning furiously.

Sakura’s nod was hesitant this time. “I think so. I’m not really _banned_ from creating genjutsu. They just don’t want me experimenting unsupervised.”

“Because you might make another kinjutsu?” Ino asked incredulously.

“Because I might actually kill myself, next time,” Sakura corrected.

“Oh…” Starting to feel a little more grounded, Ino selected a piece of meat and a sesame leaf, absently preparing her food as she considered Sakura’s situation. It was still hard to wrap her mind around the idea that Sakura had created a technique so dangerous that ANBU had decided to restrict her studies, to protect her from herself.

Now that she thought about it, Anko _had_ said that Sakura’s strange behavior during their rematch had been caused by the side effects of a ‘training accident.’ Sakura’s three-day-long ‘quarantine’ after the war suddenly took on a more sinister meaning as well. Apparently, not even Sakura’s mother had been allowed to see her.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t kill yourself, but are you sure you’re okay now? Is something bad going happen to you because you used it again?” Ino asked worriedly.

“I don’t know,” Sakura admitted, crossing her arms on the edge of the table. “I’m not even sure if I really used it on you. It doesn’t normally make victims hallucinate like that, but I can’t think of anything else I did that might’ve caused that.”

“So what _does_ it normally do,” Ino asked, chewing.

“Well-” Shaking herself, Sakura shot her friend a scolding glare. “Like I told you before, I can’t say.”

“Why not?” Ino countered, her curiosity piqued. “Is it really so bad that you can’t even talk about it?”

“I don’t know!” Sakura repeated more forcefully. “It’s scary. I don’t know how it works, and it never does the same thing twice.”

Sakura’s expression softened as she saw the concern on Ino’s face. “Also, even if it’s kinjutsu, it’s still my very own unique, special technique,” she added with a tiny bit of pride. “Someday, I might even figure out how to do it right, so I don’t want you to know what to expect,” she finished, sticking out her tongue at the blonde.

“That’s cold, Haruno,” Ino accused, pointing her chopsticks at the pink-haired girl and scowling. “Here I am, worried that you might go insane again, and you’re sitting there plotting to ambush me with some dangerous, forbidden technique.”

Sniffing in disdain, Ino selected another slice of meat. “Can you at least tell me what this ’special technique’ is called?” she asked. Asuma-sensei might be able to learn something about it if he knew the name.

Sakura’s reply came in the form of a dissatisfied frown and a few clipped words mumbled under her breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” Ino probed, quirking an eyebrow. It had almost sounded like…

“It’s called ‘Kitsune-Tsuki,’” Sakura repeated more clearly, a hint of pink rising to her cheeks.

“Jeeez, no wonder they were so quick to call it forbidden!” An evil grin sprouted on Ino’s lips as Sakura cringed. “From what happened to me, I guess it fits, but could you have possibly chosen a more ominous-sounding name?”

“Anko named it!” Sakura barked defensively. “I didn’t even get a chance to look at the paperwork before she turned it in!” Sakura’s eyes narrowed as Ino held in a chuckle. “At least it’s not something embarrassing like- what was your technique called again? ‘Shibari?’”

“Kusashibari!” Ino snapped, but her ears were already burning at the naughty, knowing smirk that had slithered onto Sakura’s face.

“Riiight- pretty kinky, Ino-chan; I know you like to be in control, but never would’ve guessed you were into _bondage_…”

§

“Haruno-kun?”

“Hng?” The sharp report of someone knocking on her door pierced Sakura’s ears, startling her. As the moment of disorientation passed, Sakura realized that her eyes were shut, but the hollow way the sound bounced off the walls instantly summoned up an image of the small, empty office she was borrowing in the ANBU interrogation facility. Cracking her eyes, she found that it was so.

*Dammit, did I fall asleep?* She must have slipped into a food-induced coma after her ruinous lunch with Ino. Sakura couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten so much meat in one sitting; it was almost obscene.

When she started to lift her head, a curious slickness under her cheek made Sakura pause. Next to her face, blurry black lines swam on a field of white, but it took a moment for it to register that it was writing. It was probably one of the mission scrolls she’d been studying, but the words were smudged beyond recognition by a warm, sticky puddle that had formed by her mouth.

“Eeew, yuck!” Straightening, Sakura raised a hand to wipe her cheek. To her disgust, a streamer of drool remained firmly attached to her chin, dripping like a gooey spider web down to the desk. Additionally, a feeling of dampness on chest drew her attention to an inky stain darkening the front of her dress.

*Inky stain?* Looking at the desk again, an icy spurt of horror raced through Sakura’s veins as she realized what she was seeing. *Oh shit, the scroll! It’s ruined!*

“Haruno-kun, are you alright?” Her visitor’s voice sounded slightly concerned now, and more than a bit familiar.

*Crap, Monkey-Man! I gotta hide this!* Leaning over the arm of her chair, the frantic kunoichi grabbed her hoodie off of the floor and opened the desk drawer beside her leg. In went the trashed scroll, along with a handful of crumpled note pages she’d used to clean up the last of the drool.

“Just a second, Hyuuga-san!” Nearly jabbing herself with a poisoned needle as she struggled into her sweatshirt, Sakura zipped it up over the stains and smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could. Folding her hands in front of her, Sakura tried to look calm. “Come in!” she called.

Hyuuga Yoshinari opened the door deliberately, as if he was afraid of what he might see inside. The ANBU was wearing his signature mask today, though his cloak had been replaced by a white lab coat that marked him as a medical nin. “Good afternoon, Haruno-kun. Did I disturb you?”

“Eheh,” Scratching the back of her neck, Sakura flushed with embarrassment. “No, I just kinda fell asleep. Good afternoon, Hyuuga-san,” she mumbled sheepishly.

The pale man nodded. “I see… Working hard, eh?” he asked. Moving closer, Yoshinari looked around for another chair, but eventually had to settle for the edge of the desk. “We can get you a cot, if you’d like.”

“No, that’s okay! I wasn’t planning on sleeping here often,” the young kunoichi assured him quickly.

“Okay… By the way, you’ve got something on your chin.”

Sakura could feel her hair standing on end as Yoshinari leaned to the side to get a better look. “Aaah!” Rubbing her face with the back of her hand, Sakura turned away. “Th-thanks! So… um, did you find anything in the kinjutsu archives that resembles my technique?” she stammered, searching for a safe topic.

The pale man stared at her bemusedly for a few moments, and Sakura cursed her stupidity; like she could hide her guilt from an _ANBU_ who also happened to be a _Hyuuga_. He’d probably been watching her right through the door while she hid the evidence.

Finally, Yoshinari released an audible sigh. “Not as such. It appears that you’ve set the precedent for this sort of mishap,” he declared ruefully. “Now that you mention it, there’s something I’d like you to take a look at.” Reaching into his pocket, the monkey-masked ninja pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on the desk.

Curious, Sakura leaned closer. It was a picture of woman, drawn in pencil. She was probably in her late teens or early twenties, clad in a trench coat and mesh shirt similar to the ones Anko favored, though she wore a pair of ripped jeans instead of a skirt, and Sakura could make out the lines of a halter of some sort under her translucent top.

Her hair was long and straight, if rather wild, and a Hidden Leaf forehead protector was partially hidden behind her overhanging fringe. Her face… “Hey, this looks like my mom,” Sakura observed in confusion. It was a very good likeness, but her mother had never been a ninja and Sakura had _never_ seen the Haruno matron smile like that.

“Does your mother have pink hair and green eyes?” Yoshinari asked, inclining his head suggestively.

“No, she-” Sakura caught his drift immediately. “I- Is this supposed to be _me_?”

“Could be,” the ANBU replied. Turning the picture around, he gave it a sideways glance. “This was drawn by one of our prisoners- one of the prisoners _you_ captured. She said this woman appears in her dreams.”

“‘She?’” Shock descended upon Sakura like a curtain falling at her back, trapping her on an empty stage. “Temari drew this?” she asked, fresh horror crept into her voice. “What happened? What does this mean?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t noticed any obvious personality changes in her since she woke up,” the Hyuuga elaborated. “But then, you two weren’t all that different to begin with.”

“What?” For a moment, indignation overrode any guilt Sakura felt about possibly harming the Sand nin. “I’m _nothing_ like that- arrogant, sadistic bitch,” she protested.

“What about your ‘duel’ with your friend?” he pointed out, seeming to read her mind.

Thinking on how she’d acted then, Sakura was uncomfortably reminded of Temari’s fight with Tenten. “I- that was different-”

“And the way you were menacing those boys in the ramen shop, a few days ago?”

“W-Where did you hear about that?” Now Sakura could _feel_ the eyebrow quirking skeptically behind the mask. “Oh- right; you’re ANBU. But I’m not really- I just- dammit, don’t _look_ at me like that!” The green-eyed kunoichi stood and glared at her silent accuser.

“Alright, I’m a _little_ like her, but I _never_ do stuff like that just to be mean!” Feeling slightly disgusted with herself, Sakura plopped back down and turned away, sulking. “I just- get angry, sometimes.”

“That… instability is one trait that Sabakuno-kun does not seem to share,” Yoshinari agreed drolly. While she couldn’t see his face, Sakura could swear the bastard was smirking at her. A chuckle escaped Yoshinari’s lips when Sakura stuck out her tongue and raspberried him.

“Regardless, it’s very difficult to tell if she has been affected by this ‘contamination,’ since she isn’t displaying any-” He paused for a moment, as though something had just occurred to him. “-any _definite_ symptoms,” he continued more cautiously. “The damage may already be done, or it could turn out to be nothing.”

Frowning, the pink-haired girl took a deep breath and tried to center herself. *Unstable, am I?* Maybe it was true, but Sakura couldn’t help but feel that she would _so_ much calmer if people would just stop _baiting_ her all the time. “Sooo, what do we want to do about it?” she asked, finally managing to salvage some of her earlier concern for the Sand nin.

“That’s a difficult question, partially because we haven’t told her how you ‘borrowed’ her body for a while.” When Sakura gave him a quizzical look, he elaborated. “It didn’t seem necessary, and I trust you still want to keep this technique of yours a secret, yes?”

“I guess so,” Sakura agreed, though she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to hide it. Her disturbing lunch conversation with Ino suddenly sprang to mind. “So Temari only _sees_ me in her dreams? She doesn’t _become_ me?” Sakura asked hesitantly.

“So it would seem,” Yoshinari confirmed with a vague nod. As expected, he immediately caught on to the worrying turn her thoughts had taken. “Is there something else?” he asked seriously.

A frown broke across Sakura’s face, and she looked away from the older man. “At the end my fight with Ino, I think I might have accidentally caught her in a form of the Kitsune-Tsuki that behaved sort of like this. I guess for a while she was seeing me everywhere.”

“Interesting… but you didn’t kiss her during that fight,” Yoshinari noted, producing a clipboard from somewhere in his coat.

“No, but I was grappling with her, and I sort of licked her face.” Against all odds, Sakura discovered that she indeed could still blush for the impassive ANBU, despite the fact that she’d spent over an hour with him yesterday watching video tapes of herself making out with Temari in the nude.

“Y- you had mentioned a secondary backflow of chakra when I ‘released’ Temari?” Sakura prompted, suddenly very aware of the unfettered breeze blowing between her thighs. Her face burning like a brand, green-eyed girl snapped her legs shut. *Dammit, what the hell was I thinking this morning?*

Unconcerned by her deviant antics, the Hyuuga inclined his head to the side in an analytical pose. “I was thinking the same thing. I wonder if it’s possible for the technique to manifest itself differently, depending upon the amount of chakra transference…” Turning to the wall, Yoshinari breathed a slow sigh. “I’m sorry; I wish I could help you better, but genjutsu isn’t my forte.”

“You know more than I do,” Sakura assured him with a self-depreciating smile.

“Perhaps not as much as you might think,” Yoshinari returned wryly. “Regardless, it would be nice to have access to an expert, but all of the genjutsu specialists in the Interrogation section are currently too busy with other duties.” Writing a few words on his clipboard, the monkey-masked man peered at Sakura expectantly. “How did you free Yamanaka-kun from the technique?”

“It looks like physical contact did the trick, that time,” Sakura explained, and for a brief moment the raunchy, naked Temari in her memories was replaced by a squirming, naked Ino. “Ino t-tripped and ran into me, and we both felt a sort of… tingling sensation,” she continued in a somewhat strangled voice. “Ino says it stopped after that.”

“I see… Are you sure you’re alright, Haruno-kun?” Yoshinari asked, eyeing her in concern.

“I’m fine!” Sakura lied. “I just imagined Ino naked.”

Uncomfortable silence descended as they both realized that Sakura had said that last bit aloud. Slumping in her seat, the sizzling pink kunoichi glared at the smiling image of her counterpart. *What the hell are _you_ grinning at, pervert?* The woman in the picture didn’t answer, but that was probably for the best.

Clearing his throat, Yoshinari glanced down at his clipboard. “In any event, I’ll try harder to get you some professional help- with your genjutsu. In the meantime, perhaps we ought to try replicating this feat with Temari?”

Twitching, Sakura just stared at the Hyuuga; that was the first time she’d _ever_ heard him trip over a double entendre. “Is that wise?” Sakura asked weakly. “If I keep-” she almost said, ‘If I keep touching her,’ but choked it down at the last moment. “If I keep exchanging chakra with Temari, couldn’t it increase the chance of contamination?”

The medical nin considered this for a long time before replying. “Give me a few days to get a second opinion,” he finally said. “Normally, I could authorize this as her doctor, but I’d definitely say this counts as ‘experimentation,’ so I’ll need Ibiki-sama’s approval.”

Making another note, Yoshinari reached into his lab coat and pulled out a small yellow sheet of paper. Scribbling a few words on it, he passed it to Sakura. “I’d also like to examine Yamanaka-kun as soon as possible. Could you give this to her?”

As she accepted the page, Sakura’s gaze lingered on the seals of approval at the bottom. It was kind of disturbing that Yoshinari carried around a generic order of summons that could be countermanded only by vote of the village council or by the Hokage himself. “Um… yeah, I’ll make sure she gets it,” Sakura agreed. *Ino’s gonna flip when she sees this.*

“Thank you. And now, I think I had better go take another look at Sabakuno-kun,” Yoshinari mused, moving to leave.

As he stood, Sakura’s gaze fell upon the picture again. *Feh… if Anko ever saw this, she’d never let me hear the end of it,* Sakura thought bitterly. Apparently, her larger-than-life ‘inner self’ really was larger than life- by at least four cup sizes. Glancing down at her own chest, Sakura grimaced in frustration. “Say, Hyuuga-san?”

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Yoshinari looked back. “Hmm?”

“I don’t suppose you know any chakra exercises you could teach me.”

“Chakra exercises?”

“Yeah,” fighting down another blush, Sakura tore her eyes from the picture. “Anko gave me this big report to write, but I’m also looking for a new technique or something to practice- just something I can use to… um… work on my body a bit,” she explained, smiling hopefully. “‘Heaven and Earth,’ right?”

“Hmm…” Moving closer, the ANBU scanned her desk for a moment. “Do you know how to make a paper crane?” he asked, picking up a blank page from the stack of note paper she’d brought with her.

“Origami? Yeah, they taught us that in kunoichi training.” Another sore point for Sakura; the woman who’d overseen that class was the same one who had taught them poetry. The old hag always found some reason to criticize her work, usually by saying it ‘lacked life’- as if all the other paper animals were just bursting with vitality.

“Did they teach you how to do this?” Yoshinari asked, holding the paper flat on his upturned palm. Sakura gaped in awe as it suddenly began folding itself. In a few seconds, a perfect origami crane sat cradled in his hand.

“H-How did you-?” she babbled, still staring.

“Chakra control, pure and simple,” Yoshinari explained. Picking up another sheet of scratch paper, the tall ninja offered it to her. “Here, you try.”

“A-Alright.” Accepting the paper, Sakura held it out flat on her palm. *Okay, I can do this. It’s all a matter of making my chakra ‘push’ and ‘pull’ the paper in the right ways, just like with the ‘wall walking’ and ‘water walking’ tricks.* Experimentally, Sakura tried pushing up on two corners while pulling down on the ‘crease,’ to make a single fold. Her heart sank as she tore a hole in the center of the page. “Dammit!”

Yoshinari spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, it takes a while to-”

“Let me try again!” Sakura interrupted, grabbing another page. *I just pulled too hard, that time. _Gently_, this time…* She managed four folds before ripping off a corner on her second try, but a minute after she’d started her third, Sakura triumphantly held up a rather crumpled-looking origami bird.

“Alright! It’s not pretty, but-” She grinned hugely and handed it to the frozen ANBU.

“Pretty enough,” Yoshinari commented in a hollow voice as he accepted the crane. “In medical school… they use this as a test to see if you’ve got what it takes to become a field surgeon.”

Sakura could feel the Hyuuga’s eyes on her as he looked up again. “It took me nearly a week to do it, and I was already a chuunin in the medical corps by then. I don’t think you have any problems with chakra control.”

Fairly glowing with pride, it took the pink-haired girl a moment to remember why she’d asked. “Thank you, Hyuuga-san, but it’s not really ‘control’ I was looking for,” she corrected hesitantly, not wanting to seem conceited. “More like- chakra flow. I was sort of hoping that you could help me learn to channel chakra through my whole body more efficiently.” Sakura stood up and held out her arms for emphasis.

“Hmm…” For several seconds, the masked man peered suspiciously at the fidgeting kunoichi. “You’re not trying to reverse-engineer the Kaiten, are you?”

“What? Of course not! I just want to waste as little chakra as possible, since my stamina’s not very good!” Was her request really that strange? Then something odd occurred to her. “Don’t you need the Byakugan to do that, anyway?”

“Yes, but you did try to remake the Shintenshin, even though you didn’t know how it worked,” Yoshinari pointed out chasteningly.

Bristling, Sakura struggled to keep the scowl from her face. “That was a spur of the moment decision- an accident! And I _succeeded_, sort of. But if you say that the Kaiten won’t work, I’ll take your word for it.” Internally, however, the short pause before his answer had her curiosity doing back flips.

Fortunately, the pale man didn’t give Sakura a chance to incriminate herself further. “Alright, I believe you,” he surrendered, holding up his hands. “As long as you’re not going to steal any of my family’s secrets, I think there are few things I can show you- but not here. This room is too small.” Backing away from the desk, he turned to open the door, glancing over his shoulder expectantly. “Follow me.”

Yoshinari led her downstairs and to the front of the building, but as they were passing the reception desk Sakura suddenly remembered something that she needed to do. “Um… can you hold on a second? I have to call my mom,” she explained in a small, embarrassed squeak.

The ANBU nodded. “Go ahead; no hurry.”

“Thanks.” Walking up to the desk, Sakura smiled for the kunoichi who was on watch today. “Good afternoon, Asano-san. Can I use the phone?”

“Good afternoon, Sakura-chan.” Asano wasn’t wearing her mask today and a mischievous grin lit the Hunter Nin’s face as she handed up the black plastic handset. “It’s a bit chilly today, isn’t it?”

“Ah… yeah,” the pink-haired girl agreed, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Asano was pretty, but her sharp features gave her a sort of predatory air. Whenever she smiled, Sakura had the strangest feeling that she was about to become a snack.

“It doesn’t really bother me, though,” Sakura added, resisting the urge to pick at her dress as she brought the handset to her ear.

‘Name of the party you are calling?’

“Ah!” Startled, Sakura decided to focus on the wall instead of the unnerving woman in front of her. “Haruno residence, please,” she told the operator.

‘One moment.’

*That’s right, I’m not wearing any underwear, so stop staring!* Though she was looking the other way, Sakura could feel the ANBU’s eyes on her butt. It was extremely disconcerting.

‘Sakura-chan?’

“Hi, mom. I kind of fell asleep in the library again and didn’t finish all of the work I needed to do, so I may be a bit late for dinner,” Sakura explained, making sure the guilt was clear in her voice.

On this occasion, her mother sounded more exasperated than angry. ‘Again? Honestly, what am I going to do with you?’

“I’m sorry, mom.”

‘Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Your friend Naruto came over earlier.’

This piqued Sakura’s interest. “Naruto? Did he say we had a mission?”

‘No, he just wanted to talk to you.’

“Oh, okay. I’ll keep an eye out for him.” The pink-haired girl replied, relaxing. Missing a mission summons would be bad, but she didn’t want to deal with Naruto today. They were friends again, after she’d _finally_ convinced him that she wasn’t Kiba in disguise, but his competitive streak was really starting to grate on her nerves.

*It was just a spar. He doesn’t have to get so bent out of shape over it.* Ever since she’d gotten out of quarantine, Naruto had been pestering her daily for a rematch. Sasuke, on the other hand…

*He must be busy training with Kakashi-sensei.* That had to be it. No sense in blowing things out of proportion just because she hadn’t seen him in a few days. “I’m going to go practice now, mom,” she said, eager to be on her way.

‘Alright, dear. Be careful.’

“I will, mom. G’bye.” Returning the phone, Sakura thanked the scary woman and hurried over to where Yoshinari was waiting by the door. “Sorry about that,” she apologized.

The Hyuuga shook his head. “That’s okay, but… ‘the library?’” he peered quizzically at her as they paused before the wide, muddy steps to don their raincoats. The sky outside was a heavy gray, groaning under the weight of autumn.

“Mom doesn’t like the idea of me being a ninja,” the young kunoichi explained with an unhappy sigh. “She’d probably be even more upset if she knew where I’m really studying.” Sakura glanced over her shoulder at the nondescript facade of the torture and interrogation facility.

“Ah…” The ANBU nodded solemnly, as if there was nothing more to say. They walked on in silence.

§

“Sakura-chan?” Calling out in a stage whisper that earned him a glare from the librarian, Naruto turned at the end of the aisle and looked around, but again, not so much as a hint of bubblegum-pink hair greeted his eye.

Maybe she wasn’t here after all- though Naruto didn’t want to consider the possibility that Sakura’s mother had lied to him. Aside from Iruka-sensei and the Hokage, Mrs. Haruno was one of the few adults that had always been nice to him.

Maybe Sakura had just gone to the bathroom or something. Or, she could be hiding from him again. No matter how many times he saw it (or didn’t see it) Naruto still couldn’t figure out the trick to Sakura’s invisibility, and she refused to tell him how it worked.

All she would say was that it was genjutsu; she wouldn’t even tell him who she’d learned it from. The first time he’d asked her _that_ question, Sakura had gotten this really scary look on her face and he’d woken up two hours later in a dumpster.

Kakashi-sensei and the old perv were no help either. The geezer just blew him off, saying that genjutsu didn’t ’suit’ him, and Kakashi was always either on missions or training Sasuke.

As he thought of Sasuke, a scowl wormed its way onto Naruto’s face. *That bastard- acting like I’m stupid or something for not bein’ able ta figure it out.* It pissed him off even more than when Sakura taunted him.

The second-loudest genin in the Leaf sighed in annoyance. Why did people have to turn into jerks when they got strong? Sakura had teased and insulted him before, but that was always when he argued with Sasuke. He didn’t care if she didn’t think he was as ‘cool’ as that smug bastard, so it didn’t bother him… much.

Now, though, whenever he asked to spar with her, the pink-haired girl would always vanish, and then later he’d find out she’d written something weird on his face, or stuck something on his back. The joke wasn’t so funny when it was always on _him_.

He’d tried filling the street with Kagebunshin once, so she couldn’t get away, but there were always avenues of escape in the open, and the librarian would probably throw a fit if he did that in here. It already felt like they were just waiting for an excuse to kick him out.

Suddenly, Naruto sensed someone on the other side of the bookshelf on his left. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching; the presence had just appeared out of nowhere. *It’s gotta be her!*

Growing still, the blonde boy tried to erase his presence as well as he could. Then, climbing more quietly than a mountain cat, he crept up the wall of books and scrolls separating them, pausing when he reached the top.

*Hmm… I know! I’ll drop down behind her and pin her between my arms against the shelf! That’ll keep her from gettin’ away.* Like a coiled spring, Naruto readied himself. *Alright… one, two, GO!* Tucking into a roll, Naruto pushed off of the shelf and began to fall, right behind his unsuspecting prey.

“No roughhousing in the library!” a stern voice called from the end of the room, and in an instant Naruto found himself spinning out of control as the scrolls on the shelves all around him came to life, wrapping him in a cocoon paper as hard as steel.

Landing on his back, the blonde ninja could only grin sheepishly at the librarian who stormed up to stand next to the monkey-masked ANBU whom he’d just tried to ambush. Adjusting her glasses, the frumpily-dressed kunoichi glared down at him. “That’s _two hours_ in detention, young man!”

“What? B-but I’m not a-”

“No ‘but’s!”

§

 -     S     U     I     R     E     N     -

To be continued…