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Author: Amaya
Editor: Aiko
Rating: Mature (see warnings below)
Characters/Pairing: [Sakura X Pein] [Sakura X Sasori] [Sakura X Deidara]; Akatsuki
Themes: Romance, Drama, Action, Adventure, Angst
Warnings: Violence/Gore, Strong Language, Sexual Content, Mature Situations

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Arc I: Pretender
Chapter VIII: I Burn

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He walks the labyrinths.
Desire burns at his flesh.
He found her body.

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Blackness faded away to blinding light as Sakura's eyelids parted; her vision blurred momentarily as her sight adjusted to the change in light, and after setting her hand atop her brow, she could see clearer. Her body felt a tad bit heavy, as if drawn down by layers upon layers of silk and chainmail, but she blamed it on the lethargy that accompanied being knocked unconscious; Sasori had sent her far beyond her limits this time, and she was sure it would take all of her strength to keep from falling over. She didn't understand why he was so insistent with training her or what he hoped he could accomplish by doing so, but she figured she may as well go along with it. It's not every day that Sasori was as nice as he was recently.

"Shit," She breathed as pain ricocheted through her back and side, and nearly crumbled back into the ground. She struck her fist into her grassy mattress, her jaw tight as she fought back tears; for a second she couldn't breathe. Fighting through the pain, Sakura rose to sit straight, pausing to grunt as she felt the burning sensation in her back that came with a skin-tearing bruise. "What happened?" She mumbled to herself as she rubbed at it with her fingers. She could see Sasori just ahead of her; he rested atop a rock, legs crossed and back straight—he was meditating. Curls of auburn hair lifted with the midday breeze, cheeks pink with the bittersweet touch of the world's early springtime caress. The willow tree behind him looked so sad, she noticed, as its branches of pink and purple petals swayed into his skin. They were up in the cliffs surrounding the village; Sasori took her here often to train—he said Pein wouldn't be able to watch them so closely from there, much to her satisfaction. The area was nice for spars, as if had a bit of open space and just enough coverage from trees that Sakura could have a slight advantage, and despite the very slight compression of oxygen from being so high, it was serene and comfortable. Sasori enjoyed meditating there often, she learned early on, and there was a small pool of water that must have been part of the waterfall some hundred years ago.

Sasori scoffed at her low grumblings and glanced at her momentarily to tease her, "Oh, you're awake? It's about time." She looked up at him, brow arched with her amusement. He was so cocky, so arrogant that it made her feel the urge to kick and scream each time he even bothered to part his lips. She held her tongue then, instead opting to rest upon the grass at his feet and childishly tug on the emerald blades and pout. She could see his smirk in the pool's reflection.

"How long was I out," She asked, idly twirling stray hairs around her fingers. Her tresses were getting long and awkward with how the layers began to outgrow; she'd need to cut them soon. Only real kunoichi could have long hair.

"It's only been ten minutes," Sasori answered with an odd intonation. Confused, Sakura tilted her head towards the side and silently repeated what Sasori had told her; thinking back to the past few seconds and anytime beyond that sent a dull pulsation of pain to Sakura's temples, as if veiling her from something she wanted to know. Her expression was quite ridiculous. "If you keep your face like that, it'll get stuck," Sasori teased, one eye opening to watch the emotions splaying across her face as she grumbled her retort. "Then Deidara will really pick on you."

"What are you, my mother?" Then she rolled her eyes and muttered, "You know you prefer my company."

A scoff, a small sort of laughter and he had turned pink. "I'd prefer the company of mice over you. At least they won't talk back."

"I learn from the best."

Their accompanying silence seemed awkward, as if both wished to speak and yet found their words dying before their lips, and yet, it felt so comforting all the same. Like the calm before the storm, their emotions swirled and burned, confusing them into a sort of incurable silence. Finally, Sakura stood, fingers tugging at her clothing and Sasori watching amusedly. When she bore nothing but her undergarments, Sakura dived straight into the aquamarine pool just a few meters away. The cold water splashed around her, splattering against Sasori's clothing and cheeks with her unprofessional dive into the pool, and he let out a low grumble of distaste. His response was lost to her, unfortunately, as she found herself jerking back into the water before she could completely resurface. Her body twitched and fought against the murky blue-green current, then suddenly bobbed back towards the surface. She gasped for breath as she waded along the surface, looking around as paranoia sparked; Sasori shook his head and scoffed lowly.

"Are you having issues," he asked.

Sakura brushed it off for a moment, her heart beating erratically within her ribcage, and finally decided she had some sort of muscle spasm. Yeah, that's what happened. Ignoring that painful knot within her belly, Sakura laid onto her back and allowed herself to float along the pool. Feeling the lukewarm and yet cold water ghosting along the sides of her body felt dissonantly comforting, as if the Gods themselves stroked her into submission.

She still feared the water, just as she always had as a kid, but ever since she woke up it was as if her phobia had increased tenfold. Perhaps that happened with a brush with death?

For a while, there was a peaceful silence; it was rare that the two could unwind, let along lower their defenses, and it was relatively comfortable. Sakura rather liked Sasori when he was calm like this. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that even the most malevolent of shinobi were still human, so it felt as if she were looking at the puppeteer in a new light.

Footsteps approached them, casually and average in weight—hinting towards a friendly face. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you, hmm."

Approaching the blonde, Sasori gave a bored salute. "What are you doing here, Deidara?"

Sakura's expression soured greatly at Deidara's arrival as she recalled how he had picked on her a few days before. She couldn't recall what started the squabble, as per usual, but she remembered how she nearly snapped the blonde's fingers from their sockets. All he ever did was irk and mock her. He seemed to know exactly what infuriated her since their first actual encounter over a month ago. He was different in how he teased her; unlike Sasori's sarcastic banter, Deidara's tone was more hurtful and full of hate, often caused by her mere existence. At least she knew Sasori was jovial when he was rude; Deidara was just vulgar. She almost felt bad for the redhead—he was always the one to step in between them and seemed rather jaded by their stupid brawls. Sometimes, she really wondered why Deidara detested her so much, when she couldn't recall any reason for him to be so cruel. He was borderline rude at times, if not openly uncouth, but he was harmless. Arrogance was his curse, really, and she knew for a fact that he loved giving his opinion on just about anything that came up—this was usually a projection caused by patients with deeply rooted insecurity issues. In the five weeks since Deidara's arrival, Sakura discovered that he was never the best at hiding his emotions; his facial expressions told almost everything. So Sakura briefly wondered: what exactly made the blonde so insecure that he took it out on her?

Appearing to notice Sakura's expression, Deidara upturned his nose and snickered to himself. "You look like shit." Deidara stifled another laugh at her expense. Sending him an indignant stare, Sakura mumbled something to herself—sure to keep her arms crossed over her chest so she wouldn't lash out at him.

"What are you doing here, Deidara?" Sasori repeated, the dry intonation he used hinting towards his displeasure.

The shinobi tossed a scroll towards his partner, his posture slacked comfortably and his hair freshly tied back. If Sakura looked close enough, she could see the water droplets dribbling from the ends of them, hinting towards a recent bath. "We have a mission, hmm," he explained. "Then we're heading home!" Sasori let out a sound Sakura couldn't quite identify, as it seemed to be something amid bitter excitement. He didn't say anything, but Sakura could tell from their silence and how Sasori looked at her that this was sensitive, classified information that she couldn't hear—probably something to do with their Akatsuki business.

Sakura never admitted it aloud, but it really bothered her that she wasn't allowed to know what went on behind closed doors. She was morbidly curious by nature, and the idea of secrecy made her skin itch with envy. She detested the fact that Sasori and Deidara were always gallivanting about the nations while she got to set bones in place and bitch at hard-headed ninja. She understood that the Akatsuki's business was none of her's, but surely Pein could have at least told her why they were there instead of keeping her holed up in the clinic. She loved her job at the hospital, and it did well to keep her busy most days of the week, but it just felt like she wasn't doing enough. It was as if there was a hunger deep within her, begging that she tire herself out so much that she couldn't move the next day—demanding that she did something other than mundane bullshit day in and day out. She missed the excitement that came with packing before journeys, and the adrenaline rush that accompanied the fear of death. Was that wrong?

Didn't Pein have faith in her training?

Taking Sasori's hint, Sakura rose from the pool, swaying momentarily as vertigo consumed her, but then ambled off towards the edge of the cliffs.

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The Making of Legends

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Pein had once told her, "Sometimes people believe to be strong is to never feel pain. But in reality it is those who have experienced and accepted pain that are the strongest."

His tightly spoken words would be forever heavy in Sakura's heart, and she was more than sure Pein spoke more of her than the general populace. He made her feel so understood when he said that, and oddly she felt beautiful. With just his words, her pride had soared beyond the highest stars for reasons unbeknown to even her. She loved the way he looked at her, even if he held no particular mood. There was something about his argent eyes that often made her breathing catch, that made her skin tingle—she adored it. That man was an enigma. He had yet to show her who he really was and what his past was like—not that he was obligated to—but as his comrade Sakura supposed she had a right to know. It took her a while to figure that Pein had a certain charm about himself. He was a dictator by definition, but was lenient and lacked that aristocratic narcissism most had. His conduct was relatively informal, his speech affluent and yet somewhat humbled; she supposed he came from a life of struggle. And despite his intimidating appearance, he was undoubtedly more approachable than she ever imagined.

But as she gazed into Pein's eyes, she saw nothing but a slight flash of annoyance. His voice, cold and offering no room for discussion, washed over her. "You should never come to a God with demands, Sakura." Ah, there was the narcissism.

Oh, how they argued like this many times before—too many times, actually. She came to him with high hopes for some kind of job; guard detail, prison management—anything to placate her perpetual itch for action. Instead, he gave her his usual condescending, bullshit speech about how the hospital needed her more, and how her duty was to the sick and injured. They had been arguing for a little over an hour now, perhaps, and Pein was just as unmovable as always despite his afternoon tea.

Deciding to push Pein's annoyance slightly, Sakura bowed her head to display her sincerity in the matter. "I need something to do! I can't just sit at the hospital all day."

Pein upturned his nose slightly, carefully observing Sakura from over it. She could be angry all she wanted, he mused, but she would never get anywhere in life with it. "Is your burden with the hospital not enough for you?" He watched as her expression fell into one of confusion and bewilderment, easily disregarding the slight spark of distress that tried to shake him. He lifted his palm towards her as if offering it to her, but she knew better than to try to touch him. "I will prepare for you a task, and upon Sasori and Deidara's return, I will send you with them on another assignment more to your likes," Pein digressed.

"They're not coming back after this mission," Sakura argued. "Deidara said they were going back to their base."

"You best watch your tone if you won't watch your tongue," Pein cautioned. "I'll prepare a task for you later."

That was the best he would do, Sakura acknowledged, and despite how endearing his kindness had been, it was not enough for her. Still, she bowed her head and thanked him, and made her way out without much more of a fight.

Oh how he infuriated her!

She hadn't dared glance at Konan while she was in Pein's presence, for Sakura was sure the older woman had that smug expression upon her face, just as she always had when it came to Pein's rejections. That woman enraged Sakura just as she awed her. Konan was a woman of poise and sophistication in how she carried herself. When she walked, she floated. When she fought, she danced. She was an object of privy and adulation, and being in her presence mad Sakura feel awkward and childish. She was going to figure Konan out one day—Pein too.

He won't take you seriously, a tiny voice purred out, slowing Sakura's march into a dwale. Glancing around, she saw nothing, but she swore she felt a cold breath upon her neck. She slapped her palm against her neck, quaking slightly as the sensation of being watched flooded over her. "What the hell…?" An abnormal odor wafted by—not horribly strong, but rather almost unnoticeable to her senses, as if teasing her because she really couldn't put a name on that smell. If she had to describe it, Sakura would have said it was a dry and somewhat suffocating scent—almost like fur that had been left out in the sun for too long. Yet at the same time, it was moist and like that of a forest.

You need to make him see you, the voice went on to whisper. Thinking over those words, she couldn't ignore the twinge of something rather obscure, and the infinitesimal voice whispered that regardless of her defiance Pein would come to understand. It told her that he would, too, adore her as he did Konan. Sakura swore she felt a warmth tickle her elbows and all but jumped as she felt a breeze brush against her cheek. Are you that unsure of yourself?

At that, the red feathers of devastating frustration brushed against her neck, mocking her for her ambiguity. Her flesh rose and chilled, bristled as Sakura forced herself to ignore the taiko drums that hummed in her ear; this was all annoying and pointless. She wasn't a child—she was far from it and Pein had no right to protect her from nonexistent enemies and unlikely states of affairs. Had he doubted her, still?

Pein will always forgive you. As the mist of enchantment dissipated from Sakura's mind, she shook herself of the ghostly fingers that caressed her and continued on down the hall with her mind made. If Pein wouldn't let her go, she'd have to sneak her way out. Hopefully, Sasori and Deidara weren't too far away so she could track them.

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The Making of Legends

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Part of Sakura was beginning to regret her decision.

It really wasn't best to defy Pein, even in something as trivial as a mission request, for however kind he was, his patience had limits—she knew this firsthand. But as she fastened her currant cape about the cinch on the left side of her breast, it was as if all her doubts began to melt away. She had taken her time dressing out, steadily contemplating the pros and cons of her decision and even wondering how the idea came into her head; she was slow with how she pulled her gloves on and how she laced her new boots, apprehension slowly settling in as she imagined what punishment the demigod would make up. But she really needed to stop thinking of it. Pondering on the consequences would only deter her. After double checking that she had all necessary weapons and that her bracers were secured, Sakura concealed the diamond on her brow with the remnants of her hatai-ate, and bounded down the hall, praying that neither Pein nor Konan were roaming about.

Sasori and Deidara were just stepping out the gates when they sensed her approach, luckily, and upon turning to regard her both men lifted their eyebrows amusedly. Quick to recover, Sasori crossed his arms about his chest and sent Sakura a firm glare. "What are you doing?" He demanded. He was dressed in garb Sakura only saw when he took on Akatsuki missions, which consisted of a black tunic with one sleeve, standard pants and a black cloth that draped over his hips in a way similar to an over-skirt. A red leather harness was strapped across the front of his chest, revealing a collection of throwing knives, and thick guards similar to his bracers were fastened about his legs, finished with his unique cloak. It was fashioned with an excessive cowl and fell over his body like a poncho, rather than zipping up.

"I'm going with you," she easily answered and put on the cloak Sasori had given her a while back. She lifted her cowl so it masked her face, then began walking forward but Sasori aggressively reeled her back by the edge of her cape.

"Return to your room,' he ordered. "You're not part of this."

"No," Sakura shot back. "I need some action, and since Pein won't give it to me, I either get to go with you, or I follow you." She could see the anger clearly on Sasori's expression even over the cowl of his unique cape; like Deidara's it was long and hooded, similar in color to her own, but it was fashioned with an excessive cowl rather than clasps to attach it to his armor. From Sasori's side, Deidara snickered.

"You'll just slow us down," the blonde pointed out. Then he made a shooing gesture with his hands, that arrogant smirk still stained upon his expression. "Go on, now. Off with you, hmm."

Sasori seemed almost conflicted as he stood in silence. The tightness in his jaw indicated he was rather displeased with her decision, but the way his eye's flashed suggested he considered her judgment. Finally, he gave a nod and began walking, ignoring the way Deidara's body seemed to fall. "Let's go then. Keep pace."

Deidara sputtered, appalled and staggered by Sasori's approval. "W-wait a second—what? Sasori you can't be serious about this," he spluttered. "Pein will—he'll have our heads over this."

Sasori's shoulders jumped indifferently. "So be it. All he can do is kill us. You two could use the experience together, anyway. Your constant bickering is troublesome." He removed a porcelain mask from his satchel; although Sakura had seen it before, she felt completely uneasy as she glanced at it. It was so white, like nothingness, and an eerie scarlet grin stretched across it's blank face. She hated that thing; she didn't like that fake, condescending smile it always gave her, or the way the holes for his eyes were slanted so mischievously. It was made in a way that if Sasori tilted his head in a certain direction, a whole new emotion was etched across it.

Looking away and feeling triumphant over the ideal, Sakura smiled beneath her cowl and followed Sasori's lead towards the east. After a moment of disbelief, Deidara fastened his own mask—one that held the semblance of a lion-dog—and hurried after them. Surely Deidara would get over it, and Pein would come to understand her position. He had said, after all, that he was harsh, but he was kind.

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Whispering at night,
the rush of adrenaline,
to touch would bring death.

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