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One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen//Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen//Seventeen//Eighteen//Nineteen//Twenty//Twenty-One//Twenty-Two//Twenty-Three//Twenty-Four//Twenty-Five//Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven (here) 

Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Gambit

Both Sakura and Itachi stilled the instant they heard the deadbolt slide out of place. Then, like a bullet fired from a gun, they were moving. He shoved the documents back into the desk while she slammed the doors shut, hiding any evidence they had ever been there.

The door opened the same second Itachi grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall beside the bookcase, his body pressing flush against hers as they tried not to be seen.

Neither of them dared move as the door closed again with a muted click. Footsteps echoed against the tiles, quiet and slow. Languid, as if they were in no hurry at all. With them hidden out of sight, Sakura couldn’t be sure it was actually Madara who had entered but she didn’t dare risk getting caught to be certain.

Adrenaline screamed through her system. Her heart pounded against her ribs. So hard she wondered if Itachi could feel it. His collarbone was less than an inch from her face, the scent of his cologne filling her nose with every silent breath. His forearms rested above and beside her head, her own hands on his hips, keeping him as close as possible to keep him from sticking out around the side of the bookcase.

They listened with baited breath as whoever it was moved about the kitchen. The jingle of keys as they were set on the counter, the faint shuffle and tearing of paper as mail was sorted and opened.

Silently, Sakura shifted her gaze up to Itachi only to find he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his gaze was cut towards the kitchen, his concentration visible in his expression. This close, she could make out the little flecks of brown in his dark eyes. Just little slivers she had never noticed before.

With his body caged around her, she could feel every hard ridge of his muscles and the tension weaved into them. His entire form was bunched and tense, pulled as tight as a band. One wrong move away from snapping.

Her own body felt on fire with adrenaline and stress. For months they had been playing with fire and right now, they were the closest they had ever been to being burned. She knew everything would be blown if they were caught. The last thing they needed was a firefight.

A quiet scoff across the room drew Sakura’s attention again in an instant. Under Itachi’s weight, she went utterly rigid, recognizing Madara in the simple sound. It was him. It was then that she realized she had been hoping it was someone else. That whatever documents Itachi had found saying this apartment belonged to Madara were wrong.

Now that she was certainty, a new wave of adrenaline went through her. Sakura told herself to breathe, but even that became difficult when she heard his footsteps cross into the main living room. Right where they were hiding.

Unconsciously, Sakura dug her fingers into Itachi’s hips, drawing him impossibly closer. She ran through the scenarios in her mind. They would only have a split second after Madara caught them to act. With Itachi’s body pinning her in place, she wouldn’t have time to reach for her gun. But she would Itachi’s.

Her fingers twitched. And she was half a second away from drawing his weapon when a phone suddenly rang across the room. Madara’s footsteps faltered. Then he turned and made his way back to the kitchen.

Relief had never swept through Sakura so strongly before. Like a bucket of ice water, it filled her veins, leaving her knees weak and full of jello. She was certain it was only because Itachi was there that she didn’t sink to the floor.

“Yes?” Madara answered, his tone like the surface of a stone. Cold and hard.

The rest of the apartment was silent as Madara listened to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. After a few minutes, he growled softly. “Right now?” Then, “Fine.”

He hung up without saying goodbye before his footsteps disappeared into the bedroom. A minute later, they heard the spray of water as the shower turned on. Only once they heard the glass door of the shower stall close did Itachi peer out behind the bookcase.

They must have been in the clear for he left their makeshift shelter, gesturing for her to follow silently. And together, they slipped out of the apartment, closing the door soundlessly behind them before they all but ran down the hall and out of the complex.

Only once they were back in the car did Sakura dare breathe. She let out a long exhale before she said the first word that came to mind, “Fuck.” She dragged a rough hand through her hair and then said it again, “Fuck! This is so much worst than I had thought. I knew Madara was lying. I knew he still had Akatsuki moving in New York but I had no idea his influence had spread this wide.”

“It is not that bad yet,” Itachi said, his tone not entirely convincing, as if he didn’t entirely believe the words himself. “Madara is still working on his plan. He is still building. We do not have much time but we are not out of it yet.”

Sakura stared at him. She wanted to ask him how he could be so calm, but then she noticed the tension in his shoulders, his tight grip on the wheel. He wouldn’t even look at her. He was just as worried about this as she was.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura forced herself to slow down. “Alright, let’s say that we actually do have some time. We need to move now. Before he can put his plan into place.”

“We don’t even know what that entails though,” Itachi said quietly.

“No,” she agreed. “But if Madara’s intent is to overtake the New York Underground, he’s going to need guns. Lots of them.”

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Sakura fell quiet as a plan slowly began to form in her head. She didn’t know if it would work – wasn’t even entirely sure it was possible – but it was the best option she could come up with.

“We need to cut off Madara’s supply lines,” she finally said. “Dry him up. I’ll talk to my contacts in the Underground. Now that we know where Akatsuki is, maybe I can try and cause him some trouble in the meantime to slow him down.”

It took a minute but eventually Itachi loosened his firm grip on the steering wheel. “That’s a good idea. I won’t reveal too much information to my company in case Madara has spies in the CIA but perhaps I can break some of his contacts with power. Weaken his protections. And I will see if Kisame is still in the States,” he added. “I need to speak with him again.”

Sakura nodded. It seemed they both agreed they wouldn’t be able to take Madara down outright. They would have to destabilize him at the roots before they could bring his entire network down.

With that still floating through her mind, Sakura pulled her phone out of the inner pocket of her jacket. She unlocked it, but did nothing else. Simply stared at the screen until it darkened again. Her gaze fell somewhere out the window, staring without seeing as the world outside passed by as they maneuvered through the slow, morning rush hour traffic. Her thoughts were a million miles away as she turned her cell phone over in her hand.

“Are we really going to be able to stop him?” Sakura eventually asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Beside her, Itachi was quiet. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’m going to try like hell to.”

She glanced towards him at that and caught his eye. It was only for a moment but that simple look put the worst of her troubles at ease.  She knew he was right. They were short on time but they weren’t out of it. They would just have to move quickly.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. With Itachi focused on navigating through traffic and Sakura lost in her thoughts, only the roll of the pavement beneath their feet filled the quiet. The lull reminded her she hadn’t slept all night. She was exhausted. Bone-achingly tired. She didn’t even know she had dozed off until she heard a door close nearby.

A few seconds later, another one opened and she felt Itachi unbuckle her seatbelt before he lifted her up into his arms. That’s when she began to stir. “I can walk,” she murmured.

Itachi murmured something but she couldn’t make out the words. Only heard the rumble through his chest.

She didn’t even try to get out of his arms. “M’phone.”

“I have it.”

The next thing she knew she was being laid down on something soft. She let Itachi pull her boots off before she curled up onto her side, her face pressed into a pillow that smelled just like him. And then she was out. Completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

xx

Itachi was still asleep beside Sakura when she woke up later that evening. His arm was curled over her hip, the other stretched out under her pillow. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually she slipped out of his grasp. Only staying long enough to fix her hair and makeup. She paused at the foot of the bed, casting Itachi one last lingering look before she was gone.

Sakura sent Kakashi the images she had taken of Madara’s desk as she walked to her car. She had barely made it out of the neighborhood before he called.

“How the hell did you find all this information?” he asked.

Not the first thing she personally would have asked but she answered him nonetheless, describing her new connection with Tenten and how the woman had pointed her to Madara’s apartment. Sakura purposefully left Madara coming home out of the story. And Itachi. She didn’t need him to know she had literally fallen asleep in his car and his bed afterwards.

When she finished, Kakashi was quiet. Then he sighed. Even through the line, she knew he was running his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t good, Sakura,” he said.

She bit back her own sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“Well…what do you want to do?”

Sakura didn’t immediately reply. She pulled her car to the curb and stared out the window, only the sound of the windshield wipers activating every few seconds to break up the utter stillness. Then she said, “We still have that store of weapons in the South, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If we’re going to outsmart Madara, we have to start moving now, and I have an idea. Meet me in Lower Manhattan with a crate tonight.”

Two hours later, Kakashi arrived at the location Sakura had texted. Tenten and Lee were already there. They said nothing as he hopped out of his truck and lowered the tailgate. Only stared with blank expressions and mild suspicion in their eyes.  

In the bed of the truck was a single crate. Kakashi used a crowbar to pop the top off before he sat back. Sakura didn’t need to see to know what lay inside. She had packed it herself. Instead, she simply leaned her hip against the tailgate and gestured for Tenten to take a look herself.

The brunette’s eyes widened when she saw it held dozens of handguns and magazines and silencers. “Holy shit. And you want what for these exactly?”

“Nothing,” Sakura said.

Tenten must have sensed something in her tone though for she cocked a skeptical brow. “Nothing?”

“It’s a gift,” Sakura told her, repeating Tenten’s earlier term. When even Lee continued to look doubtful, she added, “I hear that Akatsuki has moved into your territory to the South. Consider this my aid to assist in your plans to reclaim the streets they stole from you.”

Tenten still didn’t react. There were no thanks given as she held Sakura’s gaze, her dark eyes calculating, suspicious. “And what happens when I take my territory back? Are we in the middle of a temporary truce? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“My motives are not so ambitious. I have no interest in a territorial feud,” Sakura said, shrugging off her concerns. “What I do want is Akatsuki run out. Shut down. If you can keep them out of the streets, then consider this only the first shipment of what I can offer you.”

“You must really not like Akatsuki,” she said.

When Sakura said nothing, Tenten turned away to murmur to Lee. They spoke in hushed tones with their heads bent together. In the meantime, Sakura examined her nails, picking the dirt out from under one.

Eventually Tenten turned back. “I’m not sure I fully understand your intentions, but if Akatsuki really is your only goal then it seems we are on the same side after all.”

“Do we have a deal then?”

Tenten nodded. “We have a deal.”

Sakura’s answer was a pleased smile.

They exchanged the goods before they parted ways. Only when they were back on the interstate did Kakashi speak, “You think Tenten will be able to handle Akatsuki?”

“I’m not sure,” Sakura said, her gaze somewhere out the window. Then she looked at him. “But if she’s able to push them out, it’ll tell us how tough she really is.”

“You don’t sound concerned that she’ll turn against you.”

“Of course, I’m always prepared for that,” she told him. “But we have different objectives. Tenten wants her territory back so she can regain her control of the Underground in New York. I want Akatsuki out so I can continue to sell and move product. Our goals don’t conflict with each other. Rather, when Akatsuki is run out, they will run parallel.”

Kakashi made a noncommittal noise just as Sakura’s phone pinged. She eyed him, wondering what doubts he still had but didn’t ask as she pulled up her new message.

“We can talk more later,” she said, after finally looking down at her phone. “Hashirama wants to meet.”

“When?”

“Now.”

xx

The address Hashirama texted Sakura was to a restaurant overlooking the East River. It was on the fifth story of a tall building along the water’s edge and took up the entire floor. With its wooden ceiling and exposed, rustic lightbulbs, it was obviously an establishment that catered to those looking to spend money on a meaningful meal.

On a Thursday night, Sakura had expected every table to be full with a wait at the door and standing room only at the bar. What she found instead were two bodyguards perched on either side of the entrance just outside the elevator. They were dressed in pressed suits and stood like gargoyles. Not even acknowledging her as she passed.

Inside were two more guards. They stood only a few yards from the table Hashirama occupied. Close enough to do their jobs if needed, but far enough away to provide some privacy. Every other table in the room was empty. No guests or waitstaff stood in sight. There wasn’t even a bartender cleaning glasses or mixing cocktails behind the counter. Only a soft piano played over the speakers to keep the atmosphere comfortable.

The men in suits eyed Sakura as she entered the room but didn’t stop her when she approached Hashirama. He didn’t acknowledge her, his attention focused on the newspaper in hand, nor did he complain when she dropped herself down into the plush seat across the table. As if he had been expecting it. She eyed his half-eaten plate of steak and the glass of amber beside his hand. It didn’t look touched but the square of ice floating in the center was barely melted. This couldn’t be his first one.

“Hashirama,” she greeted, not bothering to let him finish his article.

He didn’t look in her direction but he shook out his paper, making the wilting edge stand up straight again. “I believe the last time we spoke, I made it undeniably clear you were to keep your relationship with Tobirama strictly professional.”

Sakura could only blink, a little blindsided. “What are you talking about?”

He turned the page in his paper. “I hear you’ve been to visit Tobirama in his suite.”

“And you automatically assumed I was banging him?” she asked, her voice turning flat.

This time he lowered his newspaper, if only to look at her.

Her urge to scoff was subdued by her own amusement. “I haven’t fucked your little brother in months, Hashirama. You shouldn’t believe everything Izuna tells you.” Then she paused purposefully, as if something suddenly occurred to her. “Unless, of course, you’re jealous.”

That was enough to make Hashirama’s expression shift. It was minute, subtle. Only a small pull in the corners of his mouth as if he was annoyed by her attempt to get under his skin. “You should know by now that your antagonizations do not work on me.”

“Then why are you so interested in who Tobirama fucks?” she asked, biting back the humor that was threatening to cross her lips. “Or perhaps you’re not interested in his sex life at all. Perhaps it’s mine you’re more curious about.”

“It may have been twenty years ago that I pulled you out of that orphanage, but you are still act as if you are a child,” Hashirama said, his tone obviously disapproving.

“Then get to the point. Why did you summon me?”

Hashirama took his time to answer. He held her gaze unwaveringly as he folded his newspaper up and set it aside, his eyes never leaving hers as he crossed one leg over the other and settled back into his chair.

“Because my faith in you is beginning to fail,” he said. His tone was light and even but there was an undertone that made the hair on the back of Sakura’s neck stand up. “I am not an unintelligent man, Sakura. I am not so blind as to not know you have an ulterior motive. So, tell me what you are really doing here in New York.”

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Sakura’s attention and she glanced over to find one of Hashirama’s men had pulled a gun and was pointing it directly at her.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” she asked. When he simply stared, she bristled in defense. “Are you fucking serious, Hashirama? You’re going to turn my own guns against me? Don’t you dare begin accusing me of being disloyal when you have been actively searching for any excuse to shoot me. Did you forget that I was the one who supplied you with those weapons?”

Hashirama said nothing. Merely canted his head as if she had told him some insignificant thing.

Her eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps I should remind you that you’re not the only one here who’s armed.”

A red dot appeared on Hashirama’s chest at that moment. He looked down as it traveled up his center, over the buttons of his three-piece suit to settle directly over his heart.

“This glass may be reinforced, but even bullet-resistant windows can’t stop a .308 round from a M40A5 sniper rifle,” she warned.

Hashirama raised his gaze to meet hers. Even with her imminent threat, he continued to sit, poised like a king as something dark and unforgiving lingering behind his eyes. “You’ve learned well,” he complimented with a tone that sounded nothing like a compliment. “But I notice that you have failed to answer my request: what brings you to New York?”

The longer Sakura held his gaze, the more she began to realize Hashirama wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t the first time he had asked her this very question, but this time, he wouldn’t let her talk her way out of an answer. He had her cornered. A literal gun to her head.

Sakura sat utterly still. The blood in her veins simmered with anger, but it slowly began to cool as he continued to watch her. Perhaps there were more age lines and wrinkles beside his eyes but they were the same ones that had smiled at her when she was a child. The ones that held only warmth when he played with her and grew soft when he comforted her after a nightmare.

“I had to come back,” she eventually said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only family I have left.”

That gave Hashirama pause. As if something occurred to him that he had never considered before. “Tsunade has abandoned you.”

Sakura couldn’t find the words to answer and so she simply nodded, unable to meet his gaze. She hated how she felt like that poor, lonely, little girl in that cold, Russian orphanage. Unloved. Unwanted.

Hashirama didn’t say a single word, but he raised a hand and the guard pointing his weapon at Sakura lowered it. A second later, without prompt, the red dot of Kakashi’s scope vanished.

As if nothing had occurred, Hashirama picked up his brandy and sipped from it. Sakura didn’t quite know where to take the conversation next and so she sat quietly, waiting for him to continue. She was relieved when he didn’t make her wait long.

“I am hoping that you are working on resolving the issue in the East that has kept your supplies so limited,” Hashirama said casually, as if they hadn’t just drawn arms against one another.

She nodded. “I am.”

“Good. We will need to be ready to move again soon. The last I heard, Madara’s sources say that Akatsuki is recovering from the raids in Egypt.”

“Is that so?” she said nonchalantly.

Hashirama inclined his head slightly as he set his drink back down. “What do your sources say?”

There was something about his tone then that gave Sakura pause. She didn’t know what it was that caught her notice, but in that moment, she knew Hashirama was testing her. Testing her loyalties. Which meant only one thing: Hashirama knew Madara was lying. He knew Madara was betraying him.

She didn’t know how he knew and, in that instant, it didn’t matter. Because right now, Hashirama’s only concern was her next move. He was offering her an olive branch. The chance to pick a side.

She chose her next words carefully. For they would pave the road for their relationship moving forward.

“My sources say that Akatsuki is mobile. They’re on the move,” Sakura told him.

A small smile appeared in the corner of Hashirama’s mouth, but it disappeared behind his glass as he raised it to his lips again. She had passed his test. She was back in his good graces.

Exactly where she needed to be.

to be continued…