Unequal Exchange

(1/1)

Her tanto lays broken in some other man's ribcage.

People kept bothering him with their delicate demeanor. It was as if they were terrified he were a small bird made of porcelain and if they breathed too heavy, he would break, shattering into pieces so small that they would resemble powder. Are you sure you're all right? Would you like to move out? Would you like me to keep you company in that apartment? He would always politely say no and return to whatever mission was next on the docket, accepting one after another as a means of forgetting rather than coping.

Her kunai are buried in half a dozen arteries, each sacrificed from her grip only when it was sure of a killing blow.

His paintings grew dull, pastels fading on the page as he used them, and the bold black lines that used to flow from the tail of his brush look stark and unforgiving against the pale white of the paper. They hurt his eyes. They were too real, sharp edged. They stung with their stark clarity, their finality and finally with a certain sense of loneliness as he recalled black lines on a greater canvas, one that moved and breathed and laughed when the bristles tickled.

Her scrolls lay open, tattered and used, littering the battlefield with memories of training for a day when her strength that opens craters, could not aim thirty six places at once.

His smile grew brighter, but not with happiness, but as a reflection on broken glass grows brighter when it fractures into smaller pieces. The smile is familiar, safe and it is only seen after a month when he remembers that she told him, it takes 32 muscles to frown and only 15 to smile. A week later, he realizes it takes none to show indifference. The Hokage is the only one not to ask as she too, finds the difference between the two expressions tiring.

Her wakazashi, picked specially as a souvenir from a far away mission of years ago, lays buried in a sole survivor's hamstring. He bleeds as he drags himself forward in hopes he will reach somewhere safe. He will die before nightfall from the poison on the blade.

He hasn't spoken more than astute questions regarding his missions in weeks and it takes a blonde with too much time on her hands and a feared mind jutsu to turn him inside out and shake the pieces free so that he can begin to build the picture of himself again. He begins with finding the corner pieces. Their house, their friends, their work together and then he builds out from there, filling in the border. The pieces with pink or with green in them, he leaves them until last, and, after careful consideration, leaves the space where they were empty.

The slime of her slugs, summoned as aid, cover dead and dying alike with a thick mucus trail until they run out. Suffocating those that still lived of the enemy, healing allies.

He refuses to get rid of the couch. The rest of her things are boxed up, put away, put out of sight where they won't stare at him accusingly for not having been there, for not having done something. The couch looms in the middle of the room and will not be denied. There are too many memories in that couch. It will not be put away. When he spills some ink on the tiniest corner, he attacks it with a scrub brush and paint thinner and when the spot turns hopelessly pink on a green fabric, he stares at it and for the first time, begins to cry.

Her tanto lays broken in some other man's ribcage. Her kunai are in a half a dozen more. Her scrolls are ripped. Her wakazashi is now in the hands of the forest. The slugs are returned to from where they came. Twenty five hundred lives were spared. Thirty seven were lost. Fifteen injured from Konoha will live to fight another day.

When they bring her home, war is averted in a battle with a single casualty to the town and a name is added to the memorial.

One man does not think it equal exchange.

A/N: I've actually been struggling whether or not to post this one, mostly because it is Sai/Saku a guilty little pleasure OTP of mine, and partly because I'm not particularly happy with it. I don't think it's going to get any better though, so here it is.