#shits getting real

So I don’t really remember why I was thinking about this but it’s flooding back and I’m going to forget it in an hour so I have to write it now.

——

My major advisor (not my thesis advisor) in undergrad was a fellow named Michael Orrison. He spends his time thinking about representation theory and algebraic statistics. It’s pretty cool stuff. 

During my four years in college, I’ve took three courses from him. One was Discrete, a sort of intro-to-proofs course, and I am relatively confident in saying that it was my favorite course I will ever take in my life*. One was Algebra I, which was… challenging.

[ * although, I have to admit, 9th grade history does come pretty close. ]

The last was a special topics course about harmonic analysis on finite groups, which is a stone’s throw from his research. In that class I learned three things. I learned that there is a difference between being good at presentations and being good at lectures. I learned why combinatorialists care about representation theory. And I also learned this:

At some point in the last third of the course, he takes a break from lecturing to get all starry-eyed. His #passion has been out in full force during this lecture. He’s reached a conclusion, and he turns to the class and tells us about his journey into this field. I couldn’t recount it; I don’t remember any of it. I do remember that he conceptualized the work in his discipline as a story, a story that he and his colleagues were privileged to be allowed to read.

In passing, in transition to a more important thing, he said “I’ve been thinking about this story now for 20 years, and…”. And somehow, at that moment, the incredible enormity of that statement resonated with me.

I think of myself as a pretty committed individual. I have projects that my parents started in grade school under my name and I still now actually run them. I played piano from kindergarden to graduation. I spent long enough drawing cartoons in a forum that they let me moderate it. I’m writing a blog where I’m trying to write 1000 posts about math 1000 days (it’s pretty cool you should check it out). And yet—

20 years.

I was not quite 21 years old at the time. 20 years isn’t a length of time that I have been “doing” anything. 20 years is a length of time that I have been “existing”. The idea of doingsomething for 20 years, is, still, mind-numbing. Literally. My brain shuts down as it tries to imagine.

How old are you? 

What fraction of your life is 20 years?

(Someone will read this who wasn’t alive 20 years ago. Someone will read this whose parents didn’t know each other 20 years ago.)

Orrison has been thinking about that story since I was pooping in diapers. Every single moment of embarrassment or irritation, every time I ran away from home, every stupid game I got obsessed with, every argument with a friend, my whole damn creative life (and longer) was spent thinking about this story.

And it occurs to me: the fact that I find this inspiring (instead of, you know: deeply, existentially terrifying) is one of the best indications I’ve ever had that I would be in the math game for the long haul.

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//Twenty-Eight//Twenty-Nine//Thirty//Thirty-One//Thirty-Two//Thirty-Three // Thirty-Four (here) 

Chapter Thirty-Four
The Last Hour

The soft tinkle of a piano filled the room. It reached every corner, softening the harsh silence and giving life to the otherwise still night. The clock on the wall displayed the early morning hour, but Sakura didn’t pay it any mind as her fingers tumbled across the keys.

Kakashi hadn’t answered any of her phone calls since their argument the previous night. It seemed sleep was no longer her friend either for it seemed disinterested in keeping her company as well. Instead, Sakura occupied herself with the familiar instrument, the music in her head distracting from the thoughts that chased sleep away to begin with.

The notes under her fingers seemed to stretch on for hours. She lost track of time, nearly lost track of the day, and perhaps would have sat there for years had the floorboards behind her not creaked.

Itachi closed the distance between them and her eyes fluttered shut when he swept her hair away from her neck and pressed his face to the place where her shoulder met her neck. He inhaled softly before placing the barest of kisses to her skin. Her breath faltered but her fingers did not.

“Come to bed,” he murmured against her skin.

“I can’t sleep.”

She felt him chuckle faintly. “Perhaps because you are not in bed.”

A smile crossed her face, but her fingers never lost their tempo even as he pressed more lingering kisses to the column of her neck.

Eventually Itachi pulled away with a sigh. Without a word, he lowered himself onto the bench beside her until his leg was pressed against hers, his hand resting against her lower back. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here.”

“I meant in your head.” When Sakura pursed her lips, Itachi reached up to brush her hair over her shoulder. “Is this about Hashirama? I heard he was assassinated.”

She kept her expression neutral as she glanced at him, briefly taking in the sweats and white wife beater he had slipped on. She liked the way it emphasized the muscles of his chest.

“No,” she said. “I may have known Hashirama most of my life but he was nothing but a mobster. In the end, he got what he deserved.”

If her cool tone surprised Itachi, he said nothing. He simply watched her fingers skim across the keys as she tried not to recall the moment she had pulled the trigger and embedded a round of metal between Hashirama’s eyes. The taint of smoke and blood lingered in her nose.

“Then where are you?” Itachi murmured again. 

Sakura blinked. She played another few measures of her song before finally saying, “Newark.”

“Newark?” he repeated curiously. “What’s there?”

“Madara. He’s regained traction.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed. “But Kisame said the shipment was going to Brooklyn.”

Sakura shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps it was, but word somehow got out that I took control of that warehouse so they’ve had to relocate.”

“You don’t think…” Itachi began slowly. “Kisame wouldn’t have said anything.”

The flat look she shot him said she believed otherwise. “Kisame is loyal to you, Itachi, and you alone.” Then her expression cleared. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. It is what it is.”

Itachi still didn’t look happy about her distrust of Kisame, but he said nothing as he thought, his fingers unconsciously caressing the small of her back through the thin material of her shirt.  Or rather it was his shirt, wasn’t it. She had pulled it on after showering, leaving the rest of her clothes forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor.

“Are you able to intercept Madara?” Itachi asked.

She opened her mouth only to close it once more. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she watched her fingers dance lightly over the keys, the notes filling the silence.

Her silence confused him. “What is it?” he asked.

But Itachi was smart. And it quickly dawned on him.

“You need the CIA to hit the port in Newark.”

“I don’t have the manpower to do it myself,” Sakura said, her tone coming out a little sharper than she intended.

It was a fact she had known for a while now, but it still left her feeling vulnerable. This was the one variable in her plan. She had everything else planned to a ‘T’. The risks, the consequences, the possible outcomes. All except this. She needed the CIA’s help. And that all weighed on Itachi’s next decision.

Sakura glanced at him, but he was no longer looking at her. His eyes were downcast, staring without seeing at her hands, though they had paused upon the black and white keys. His own fingers had fallen still against her back. She could see the thoughts running through his head, could see him weighing the options. He had made the offer before, but she knew it was still difficult for him. She would need to sway him a little more.

“Kisame said the shipment will be here tomorrow night,” Sakura murmured, carefully breaking the silence. “It’s Akatsuki’s largest one ever. Madara will be there. He has to be. It might be the CIA’s last opportunity to capture him before he takes control of the Underground.”

The lie burned her tongue as it came out of her mouth. Like acid, making her feel hot and cold as her heart shriveled up in her chest until it was nothing but dirty ash. She was fully aware how she was a terrible person, but this was on a new level entirely. Pushing Itachi to take down Akatsuki, knowing full well that Madara was long out of the country.

She sat with bated breath until Itachi finally nodded, “I’ll do what I can.” Then his eyes found hers, searching. “But that means you can’t be there.”

“I know,” Sakura said, releasing her tight breath. She relaxed further under his touch as his fingers resumed their gentle caress. “I’m going to try and draw Izuna to Brooklyn, in the meantime. It’ll be easier to bring Akatsuki down if we separate them.”

Itachi’s face pinched with a frown. “Izuna will try to kill you.”

Sakura simply shrugged. “Which is exactly what he’s been trying to do for months. It’s time he and I finished our little game.”

The fingers on her back suddenly dug into her skin. “This is not a game, Sakura.”

The intensity behind his voice gave her pause. She was quiet as she scanned the wall above the piano where a single picture hung. It was the first time she had ever noticed it, she realized. It was an old, weathered sheet of music. Though the song was one she didn’t recognize.

“No, it’s not a game,” Sakura repeated. “But it needs to end nevertheless.”

Itachi held his frown for a moment longer before he let it go with a sigh. Silently, he faced forward, his shoulder pressing into hers. With her own hands resting on her bare thighs, his fingers ghosted over the keys of the piano. Gingerly, he played a few notes. They were off-tempo and the pressure not quite right, but Sakura would recognize them anywhere. It was her song.

Her entire being down to her very soul froze. Her gaze dropped to his hands as she stared intensely, as if expecting him to play more. However, he wasn’t a musician and his hand fell away. Her eyes sought his face sharply, only Itachi wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning at the keys. As if frustrated he didn’t know more.

That look of surprise was still on her face when he finally picked his head up and met her gaze. It was then that she realized it had been no accident. He had learned part of her song.

She wondered how long he had sat here in the living room behind his piano and tried to recreate the music. Tried to recall from mere memory the notes he had heard her play time and time again.

Something swelled within her. Powerful and all-encompassing until she thought her chest might explode. Sakura’s body moved before her mind did.

In one second, she was sitting there, staring wide-eyed at Itachi and in the next, she was in his lap, her mouth pressed tightly against his. With their position, she towered over him and she raked her hands through his hair, forcing his head back as she angled his mouth to hers.

She kissed him hungrily. Kissed him like she was dying. Because in that moment, that’s what it felt like. There was so much emotion in her chest, she felt full, bursting. Like she was coming apart at the seams. And she didn’t know what to do with all of it, so she channeled it into that single kiss. Saying without words everything she didn’t know how to voice.

Itachi hesitated for one split second. Then he was kissing her too.

His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt and dug into her bare hips. He pulled her flush against him, her bare sex rubbing against the thin material of his sweats where she could already feel his member stirring. White hot arousal shot straight into her core and Sakura was grateful she had been too lazy to find her panties earlier.

Her hands fell to his shoulders as he tangled one hand into her hair and urged her head back. A low moan escaped her as Itachi pressed a row of kisses from her jaw, down her throat until he reached the collar of her stolen shirt, her voice echoing towards the ceiling. He pulled the neckline away, licking and sucking at the skin there too until he grew tired of the offending material.

Pulling back, Itachi grabbed the hem of her shirt before he jerked it over her head, leaving her deliciously naked in his lap. His mouth descended upon her breasts, drawing little sounds of pleasure from her as he suckled a nipple into a tight bud before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

Wetness was already pooling between her legs, dampening his sweats and tainting the air between them with sex. Her hands fell to his stomach, feeling the muscle flex there as he ground his hips up against hers. She tilted her head back further, a breathy moan leaving her as he switched to her other breast.

But it wasn’t enough. That emotion was consuming her, spreading through her veins like fire until she could barely think.

Grabbing the hem of his white beater, Sakura ripped his shirt over his head before she grabbed the back of his neck and jerked his mouth back to hers. Her hands raked through his hair, glad that he had left it down. She liked it more like this. She liked the way the silky strands carded through her fingers, liked how it framed his face. Liked how much easier it was to grip. She forced his head to the side to suck the underside of his jaw as she ground herself down into his lap.

“Slow down,” Itachi whispered hotly in her ear.

She didn’t. “I can’t.”

Itachi’s arms slipped away from their encircling embrace so his hands could grasp her wrists. He pulled her hands away before he leaned back to look at her. Really look at her. She wasn’t sure she liked how thoroughly he searched her face.

“Sakura-”

“I need you,” she said before he could finish.

As if he understood she meant more than physically, Itachi’s mouth froze, whatever he was about to say falling forgotten. His expression softened before he released his grip on her wrists. One arm snaked around her waist, his easy strength pulling her bare chest flush against his before he cupped her face and kissed her again, this time gently.

Sakura melted into his embrace, allowing them one moment of nothing but emotion. Their heartbeats fell into sync, their lungs inhaling and exhaling as one as he kissed her thoroughly, his lips so, so soft against hers.

Then Itachi was moving again. Sakura couldn’t contain her cry even if she tried when his fingers finally slipped between her legs. He spread the wetness there, most of it likely his own essence from their earlier round, before he teased her with gentle fingertips. When his fingers finally slipped inside, Sakura couldn’t help her throaty moan as she ground herself against his palm. And he let her.

“Come on, Sakura,” Itachi murmured, his voice thick with lust. “That’s a good girl.”

She sucked in a heavy breath, only for her lungs to dispel it again. She could feel her orgasm building, but it was just beyond her reach. She needed something bigger, something thicker to calm the raging fire of her arousal.

“Please, Itachi.”

She didn’t wait for him to give it to her. Pushing herself onto her knees, Sakura pulled the string of his sweatpants and yanked the material down until his manhood sprung free. She pumped him a few times before she forced his hand away and lined the head of his member with her center. Then she slid down until he was buried fully inside her.

They moaned simultaneously, enjoying the feel of the other, before Sakura began to move. She raised her hips slowly before she sank back down. With the narrow bench beneath them, it took her a minute to find her rhythm, but then she was moving.

The room filled with the sound of lust. The slap of skin-on-skin, the groan of the wooden bench below them, the panting of her breath and the low moans that escaped Itachi’s throat. He wrapped a secure arm around her waist as she leaned back, her hand finding purchase on the piano behind her. It let out a horrible mash of notes as her hand fell on the keys, but she gave it no notice. All that mattered was the man beneath and inside her.

Itachi found rhythm with her and he helped her take her pleasure until she tightened around him, crying his name. The arm around her middle kept her from falling back and he let her rest against him for a minute before he picked her up and set her against the plush rug in the middle of the room.

There Itachi’s pace was hard and deep, but there was a tenderness in which he held and kissed her. That emotion swelled within Sakura again and she arched under him as his pelvic bone ground against her sensitive bundle of nerves until she was coming apart again.

Itachi finished soon after before he laid beside her. Only once their heartbeats had slowed again did he wrap his arm around her waist and curl into her back. “Now will you come to bed?” he asked against her shoulder blade.

When she finally rolled onto her back, he braced himself up on one elbow. A smile played on her lips. “Are we going to be sleeping or doing something else?”

“You want another round?” he asked incredulously.

She laughed at the expression on his face, but wasn’t given the chance to answer when her phone suddenly rang on the counter across the room. They both glanced in its direction and waited for it to fall silent before their gazes found one another again.

Sakura opened her mouth, ready to answer his question when her phone went off for a second time. A frown crossed her lips. “I should probably get that.”

Itachi said nothing, but the arm around her waist fell away as she pushed herself to her feet. Quickly Sakura crossed the living room to catch the call before it went to voicemail.

“What is it?” she nearly demanded.

On the other end, Ino’s voice was grim. “We have a problem.”

Sakura listened intently, the furrow between her brows becoming deeper and deeper until she finally hung up. It took her a long moment to turn around, but when she did, she found Itachi standing on the other side of the kitchen watching her. He had pulled his sweatpants back on and gathered the rest of their clothes.

He read her expression immediately. “What happened?”

When she spoke, her voice was grim. “The ship that’s carrying Akatsuki’s cargo just entered the Lower Bay. It’ll be in port within the next few hours.”

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Sakura was in motion. She turned and hurried upstairs where she picked her clothes off the floor. She slipped her underwear over her hips before she pulled her sports bra on. Itachi entered the room as she stepped into her jeans.

“Sakura, wait.”

“I can’t,” she said without pausing. “The shipment is here. We have to move. Now.”

He tossed the shirt – his shirt – the one she had worn onto the unmade bed as she found her own shirt and jerked it down over her head. She made to grab her keys and her wallet from the nightstand when Itachi grabbed her by the elbow and stopped her.

“Sakura.”

But that was all he said. Everything else was clearly written on his face. The tension in her form fell away. She gave him a small, sad smile. “Our time is up, Itachi.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

I don’t want to lose you.

He didn’t say the words, but she heard them clear enough. Because neither of them knew what the future held. They were both headed to battle. Casualties were not only possible, but expected. There were no guarantees that either of them would survive.

But Sakura had been in this war long enough that she had to see it through to the end. She just hoped she wouldn’t drag Itachi down with her.

“I’ll be okay,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel. “And you will be too. We can do this.”

Itachi’s response was a slight frown before he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Automatically her hands came to rest on his chest, her palms smoothing over his collarbone until her fingers curled over his shoulders.

Then she pulled away, her eyes searching his.

Itachi met her gaze evenly. “I’ll will make the call,” he promised her.

She nodded, willing the sliver of guilt in her chest to subside before she grabbed her things and made her way out of the room. As she grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t resist glancing at the piano one last time, her memory repeating over and over those shaky, uneven notes he had played for her. In that instant, she knew she would never get that sound out of her head.

Then Sakura forced herself to turn away. She had a battle to prepare for.

xx

Less than twenty minutes later, Sakura was back in her apartment. In the back of her closet, she pulled up a floorboard. Inside, there were half a dozen different guns with over three hundred rounds of ammunition. Quickly, she went through the process of loading her weapons and double checking that they were functioning properly.

Tossing them on her bed, she retrieved a fresh change of clothes from her dresser. She pulled on a black tank top and a new pair of jeans, ones that had a waistline big enough for her to tuck her guns into. She holstered a gun on either side of her hips and a third at the small of her back before she strapped a backup onto both ankles and jammed her feet into her boots.

After piling her hair into a high ponytail, she slipped on her leather jacket and peeked in the mirror. She gave herself a quick onceover, ensuring her weapons were within easy reach but well-hidden. Her reflection smiled proudly. A warrior disguised as a queen.

Turning away, Sakura grabbed her phone from her bed before she left her apartment and headed downstairs to her car. In the elevator, she texted Ino, asking for Kisame’s whereabouts and the status of everyone else. She needed to know where Tenten and Tobirama were. They only had so much time before the Akatsuki members would be summoned to the warehouse. Sakura needed them all taken out. Now.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Sakura stepped out. Only to still when she rounded the corner.

Kakashi was leaning against the trunk of her car, his arms and ankles crossed. He was dressed as usual in dark jeans and a black leather jacket. She resisted the urge to laugh at their similar attire, the memory of their last conversation still so fresh and raw.

The only reason she felt comfortable approaching him now was because the mask he occasionally wore over his mouth and nose was pulled down around his neck. If he was looking for another fight, he would have left his face covered. It made him so much harder to read.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura forced herself forward. He looked up upon the sounds of her footsteps but didn’t speak. She stopped a good five feet away from him. Kakashi noticed.

She swallowed thickly. “What’re you doing here?”

He shot her a look like she had just asked the dumbest question in the world. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she said with a small shrug. She tried to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness and hurt crept into her voice.

It was enough to make Kakashi’s expression soften and he lowered his crossed arms. “Did you really think I would abandon you just like that?”

Sakura opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because the answer was yes, she did think she had been abandoned. And she was ashamed she had thought so low of Kakashi. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he was here now. After everything, why he still held such loyalties to her. And she asked.

“Why are you still here?” she murmured, unable to keep the waiver out of her voice. “After everything I’ve done, why do you keep coming back?”

There was a flicker of a smile across his lips. “I told you I always have your back, Sakura.”

“But why?”

He seemed to consider her for a moment, as if he suddenly understood she really didn’t know the answer. He let out a soft sigh.

“Do you remember when we were in Syria? How you saved me and tried to save my men?” he asked.

Sakura’s brows furrowed as her mind filtered through her memory. It had been after their initial meeting, after she had freed him from Gaara’s captivity and after he had found her the night she had put two bullets through Gaara’s head. Sakura had thought she and Kakashi had gone their separate ways. Only to unintentionally reunite in Syria.

That part of the world had been in the midst of a war with the United States. There was so much gunfire and so many bombs. Civilians and soldiers alike were dying left and right. The land was horribly scarred and the people that survived were even more so.

Sakura had been there buying arms from both sides. It wasn’t her war and she didn’t care where the weapons came from as long as she refilled her stores. At least until she had accidentally run into Kakashi. Literally.

She’d had two automatic weapons strapped to her back when she had taken shelter in an abandoned building as gunfire rained down on the city. Inside, Kakashi and his team had been doing the same and they would have shot her head off had Kakashi not ordered them to stand down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” they had asked each other at the very same time.

Kakashi had been mum on the word, but Sakura had heard the rumors about a group of terrorists on the United States’ watchlist nearby. Only they were just that. A rumor. To lure American soldiers in.

Sakura had weighed her decision carefully to help Kakashi and his team. She had already helped him once and he had her. They didn’t owe each other anything. But there was nothing to gain from a group of dead soldiers. And the United States military weren’t answering their calls for help.

It was all a blur. Only Sakura and Kakashi had made it out alive without being gunned down. Sakura herself was amazed she had gotten away unscathed. Kakashi had been less fortunate with a bullet to the stomach. She had dropped him at the closest hospital, fully expecting him to die. She never expected to see the American Marine again. Nevertheless for him to show up on her door less than a year later.

Sakura hadn’t been entirely sure why he had sought her out. She figured it was something to do with her saving his life and he would leave as soon as he saw what it was she really did. Only he had stuck around. Time and time again.

Kakashi never spoke of the teammates he had lost that day and she didn’t ask. She knew it had fucked him up. It surprised her now that he had even brought it up. Though if she were being honest, she could see the parallels of then and what lay before them now.

“I didn’t think I was going to survive that day,” Kakashi continued quietly. “My own country abandoned my team and left us to die in that desert. Did leave them to die in the desert. They thought we were a lost cause. But not you. I should be dead. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. So even if I do die, if it means I help or save you, I would do it. No questions asked.”

Even after everything she had been through, his sincerity touched her to her core. Her chin tremble and tears pooled in her eyes faster than she could blink them back. She could count on one hand and have fingers left over the number of times they had hugged, but neither of them held back now as Sakura stepped into the circle of his embrace.

Kakashi held her tightly against his chest, his arms wrapping tighter each time her shoulders trembled. He was all strength and support and unwavering loyalty. Exactly what she needed at that moment. She made a mental note to remember this moment forever.

Then Sakura wiped at her face and stepped away.

“I’m going after Kisame,” she told him. Because she knew that Kakashi deserved her full honesty. He deserved to know she was going after a federal agent.

Unperturbed, Kakashi nodded once. “Are you going to kill him?”

“That depends,” she said darkly.

“On?”

“If he’s betrayed Itachi or not.”

Kakashi didn’t immediately replied. His gaze looked her over, as if he was seeing every way Itachi had ever touched her. Physical and otherwise.

To her surprise, Kakashi didn’t question her. He simply patted the side of his jacket where she was sure he had a full-loaded weapon hidden. “And I am going with you. If you’re going after a Mossad Operative, you’ll need to scrub the room. You can’t leave a trace behind.”

It amazed her at how much she needed to hear those words. To know that she wouldn’t be going in alone against Kisame. The man was like a shark. He had been circling her for some time, just waiting to go in for the kill.

Sakura released a silent breath before she gave him a small smile.

Kakashi returned it before he straightened his spine. The soldier in him coming out full force.

“Now put your game face on. We’re going to war.”

tbc…