Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Playing the Game	By : erincthomas Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Kakashi/Sakura Views: 2679 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, the characterisation would be a lot more consistent. No more Kakashi doing the good guy pose, please. No profit made from this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
WARNINGS: Violent deaths, squicky sex(ish), borderline noncon, mature themes.

For the sakes of Dee and Joseph, I will assure ahead of time that there is absolutely NO necrophilia -- in this chapter, at least! Ha.

On a personal level, this chapter was highly enjoyable to write. It was one of those plot points I just couldn't wait to get to. I hope you like reading it just as much I liked creating it.

Kitagawa Mirei stooped to pet the shaggy brown puppy. The man leading it eyed her form appreciatively, but the woman either didn't notice or didn't care. She smiled up at him, russet eyes sparkling, and asked the dog's name.

Mirei had stopped like so for every dog she had seen that day and had even dallied in front of a pet store window upwards of fifteen minutes. Dogs were her weakness.

As the man moved on, a dirty child ran out of a nearby alley. One grubby little hand grabbed Mirei's skirt, catching her by surprise.

"Please help me, lady! Please!" the child wailed pitifully.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Not me – Suki! You have to help her!"

"Who's Suki?"

"M-my d-d-doggy," the child spluttered through exaggerated sobs. "A crate fell on her and her leg went all funny."

"It's okay," soothed Mirei. "I'll help you. Where is Suki?"

The child grabbed her hand and led her into the alley. She stopped abruptly by the large dumpster, lifting a shaking finger to point into the shadows. "Y-you look. She's just there. You can help her, right?"

"I'll try," Mirei assured. "There's a veterinarian not far from here. We can take her there."

"B-but I don't have any money!" cried the child with renewed fervour, weeping once more.

"I have money." The woman squeezed the child's shoulder comfortingly and then moved past. "Where is she? I don't see her."

Sakura dropped the henge, returning to her normal size. Grabbing the sides of her target's head, she twisted, hard. Mirei's neck snapped cleanly, body slumping into Sakura's arms without a sound.

The woman's face was serene, no shock apparent. She died without knowing anything was amiss. Her gentle brown eyes drilled into Sakura's soul, beseeching. Ignoring their pleas, Sakura began systematically stripping the woman.

Mirei wore a high-quality summery dress that Sakura imagined would have looked quite innocent on a clothing rack. It could have been mistaken for a young girl's dress, even. On a woman's body, though it still looked deceptively childlike, it emphasised all the right things to subtly draw a man's attention.

While Kitagawa Mirei may have been a sweet, ingenuous person who loved dogs and was kind to children, she also knew she was cute – in fact, she capitalised on it.

Sakura stared at the woman's undergarments, internally debating. There was an oversight on her part; she didn't really own sexy bras and panties like Mirei was wearing, but she didn't want to wear someone else's, either – and couldn't, when it came to the bra and Mirei's much more ample chest. In the end, she left her own panties on and went without a bra, tucking her chest bindings into her pack with the rest of her shinobi clothing.

Though it fit, the dress looked decidedly less womanly on Sakura, who did not possess Mirei's height or curves. Still, it would have to do.

Sakura lifted Mirei's body effortlessly and placed her in the tall dumpster. Standing on tiptoe, she peered inside, though she knew she shouldn't. The corpse was sprawled awkwardly over the garbage, but the long blonde hair fanned out perfectly, as if it had been placed that way deliberately. With her head facing away, Mirei looked disturbingly like Ino.

Shaking her head to clear it of stray thoughts, Sakura dropped back down to her heels and activated her radio. "Third alley on the right past Jirou's Pet Emporium. Secondary target's body is in the dumpster. No witnesses."

"Roger," replied her team leader. "I'll dispose of the body while you achieve the mission objective."

"I'm leaving my pack behind the dumpster. Please don't forget to grab it." Mimura Hamaki wasn't the worst mission captain she'd ever had, but he wasn't overly considerate of subordinates. Last mission she'd had with him, he'd forced her to leave behind a stash of weapons for what she still believed to be no legitimate reason. Things like belongings were below his notice, being one of those grizzled old men still mentally stuck in the high stakes of the Third Shinobi World War.

"Do your job, Haruno, and I'll do mine," Mimura admonished in his gravelly voice. The soft sizzle of static signalled the end of the connection.

"Hard ass," she muttered, slipping on the girly slippers she'd bought just for this occasion, not trusting that Mirei's feet would be the same size. Altering her hair and face with a mild genjutsu to make the transformation complete, Sakura practised walking and speaking as Mirei.

The target had never met the girl, so it really shouldn't be a problem, but better to be safe – especially after what Mimura-taichou had said a couple of days ago as they were travelling.

"You've been on this sort of mission before, haven't you?" he'd asked bluntly. "I swear, if they sent me another virgin, I'll—"

"I have," Sakura answered quickly, voice clipped.

"Good. I've never really seen you act, but I trust you're able?"

"Of course."

"It's just that this mission requires a more demure, feminine type, and you're, well...." He looked her over critically, mouth set in a hard line.

"And I'm not feminine?" she'd bitten out, struggling to keep her features neutral.

"Now, Haruno. I'm not trying to give offence. Just look at the way you're walking, more aggressive than some men I've worked with—"

"Do I have to seduce you too to show I know how it's done?"

"Please don't. You get so worked up over things, Haruno."

Please don't. As if he hadn't made it clear before that he thought no one would want her. "If you didn't think I was attractive enough – capable enough – to pull this off, you should have requested a team change from Hokage-sama before this, Mimura-taichou. It's rather too late now." She'd fought to keep the bitterness out of her voice but probably hadn't succeeded.

Mimura had stayed silent for awhile and she'd tried not to let herself stew, telling herself that was just how he was, assuming the worst of subordinates until proven otherwise. Eventually, though, he'd spoken.

"Haruno, I don't think you're incapable. You don't always like to take orders and you balk at the strangest things, sometimes, but overall, your mission conduct has been acceptable the few times we've worked together. I merely doubted your experience in this area."

Instead of saying she was capable he'd said she was not incapable. He'd said she was only acceptable, and yet she knew this was a big concession on his part, tantamount to a declaration that Haruno Sakura was fit to be the next Hokage.

"Thank you, Mimura-taichou," she'd returned, a smile gracing her face. Truth be told, she had been feeling nervous and he'd reassured her. While she had done a mission like this before – once – she knew that if he'd known how that had turned out he really would have requested a team change.

In the dank alley, Sakura straightened. Recalling Mimura-taichou's confidence in her, she steeled herself for what came next. Her faith in herself may have been shaken lately, but she could do this. She would do this and she would do it right.

Up until this point, Sakura had successfully maintained her emotional distance. She'd felt only mild disgust as his lavish private car drove her past countless homeless people, many of them children like the one she'd imitated. He'd brought her to an "informal picnic" that was actually a bunch of big-wigs hobnobbing and showing off for one another. She was not the only woman there coupled with a much older, obviously rich man. Perversely, she'd been glad that she'd divested Mirei of her clothing. Not knowing where she was going, she never would have dressed appropriately.

Her role was simple enough and she had played it well – until now. After turning the lights off for long enough to get undressed and slip under the covers of his large and opulent bed, he'd switched on a lamp and turned to her eagerly. He was ashamed of his own body, it seemed, but he intended to enjoy hers.

Well, he had paid for it, she mused with an internal sneer. It was pathetic, really. As the mayor of the financially-booming city of Nenzo, he would find no shortage of willing women should he seek them out. She could see the underlying insecurity in his eyes, though. What other sort of man would allow himself to be bought out by a gang to the detriment of his own people?

"Mirei-chan," he called, not bothering to hide the tenting of the covers or the lasciviousness in his gaze. "What are you waiting for?"

"Patience, Karasuma-sama. I think waiting makes things more fun. Don't you?" Sakura giggled. Teasingly, she inched up the hem of her dress, exposing her thighs but no more, and paused, looking at him expectantly.

"Perhaps," he acknowledged appreciatively. "Go on."

With exaggerated slowness, she pulled the dress over her head – the dress he'd complimented, the same dress she had pulled off a corpse earlier that day. As she did so, she carefully placed a genjutsu that would conceal her scarred stomach even to touch, brushing off the annoyance at even bothering; though the jutsu was difficult to maintain, it was necessary for her cover. Back into character now, she sashayed across the room to him, leisurely climbing over his covered body with a lustful smirk that felt foreign on her face.

She had stretched his patience too thin, it seemed. With an almost violent jerk, he took her into his arms and kissed her roughly, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

Sakura froze as his hands roamed her body, remembering another man's hands and how that time had ended.

Karasuma broke apart from her. "Mirei," he said warningly.

She flushed. "Sorry, Karasuma-sama. You startled me, that's all."

"Mabuchi," he corrected. "Call me Mabuchi."

"Mabuchi-sama," she repeated, affecting a grin. "Let's get started."

Straddling him at the waist, she leaned over, taking his mouth with hers. Sakura tangled her fingers in his hair, directing him towards her breasts. He obliged, and the minute she felt his tongue trailing in between their valley, she felt herself relax a bit. It was only a matter of time now.

She encouraged him to continue suckling her breasts, faking enthusiastic reactions. Eventually, he began moving his attention further down and as his lips reached her stomach, the muscles underneath clenched in fear, though she hoped he took it for arousal. She immediately focused her chakra into the genjutsu covering her scar. Had she miscalculated? Was he going to—? Could she possibly allow him to continue further down, to put his mouth—? The thought made her nauseous.

He was slowing, though. With one last sloppy kiss to her navel, he fell back onto the pillow.

"Is something wrong, Mabuchi-sama?" He was sweating. Excellent. She forced her eyes to widen. "M-Mabuchi-sama?"

He clawed at his chest, panting openly. "You bitch!" he gasped, making a swipe at her. She let his fist connect with her face, knocking her off the bed. Her cheek had split; she could feel the blood trickling down her face. She concentrated on maintaining the genjutsu on her appearance. "What did you do?"

She scrambled backwards until she hit the wall.

"What did you do?" he said again, voice weakening by the minute.

"I don't know what you mean! What's wrong?" she wailed.

Eyes livid, he tried to get up and come after her, but instead winced and lay back down. "Get ... maid. Call doctor," he mumbled. It was clear he was swiftly losing consciousness.

This was confirmation enough, Sakura decided, standing up. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Traitor," he spat, comprehension dawning in his face.

"Yes," she said simply, staring at him clinically, evaluating his symptoms.

"I always did like blondes," he whispered haltingly, in laborious breath. "There are worse ways to go."

She didn't bother to correct him. The genjutsu was still up and it would stay up until it was safe to drop it, so for now, she was a blonde. Looking around the room to assess her situation, she spotted the rumpled dress lying on the floor. Shaking it out, she put it back on. Part of her had the urge to never touch it again – to rip it to shreds – but she ignored that, for now. She crossed to the window and opened it wide for Mimura-taichou. Hopefully, he'd be here soon.

It was a quiet night and the slight breeze felt good on her skin. She stood just behind the curtain and let the fresh air drift over..... Her moment of escapism was broken by a loud moan from Karasuma. Scowling, she slammed open the top draw of his nearby mahogany dresser. Finding some expensive-looking cloth handkerchiefs, she tied a couple around his head in a makeshift gag, muffling the groans that reminded her of his unfortunate presence.

"Much better." Looking around, she spotted the lavish armchair in the corner of Karasuma's Western-style bedroom. She had laid Mirei's purse there upon entering. She picked it up now, thumbing through it for something to keep herself occupied. "Perfect," she muttered, finding a nail file.

Now all that was left was to wait.

When Mimura-taichou entered through the window, Sakura didn't even look up from inspecting her left hand. The nails were perfectly smooth and even.

"Took you long enough," she said.

"Is he dead?" asked Mimura, staring at the man on the bed.

"Not quite. I'd give it another ten minutes or so. Not long."

"Did you poison him?"

"What does it look like?"

"You stupid girl," he growled, suddenly turning to her angrily. "This was to be undetectable!"

She huffed in annoyance. "I read the mission scroll too, Taichou. It is undetectable."

"He's a high-ranking political official. They'll do an autopsy. You idiot women can never simply follow orders –"

"The autopsy will reveal that he died of cardiac arrest. His staff knows he was with a prostitute, and he's getting on, you know. They'll put it together easily enough. Too much for his old heart, they'll say. The girl ran off, scared to be blamed."

"It will reveal the poison you –"

"This poison is slow-acting so that every trace is metabolised before the time of death. I developed it myself with Tsunade-sama. Poisons are my speciality, so until you outrank me medically, I'll thank you to keep your uneducated opinions to yourself." She could see him grinding his jaw at her impertinence. "Sir," she added as an afterthought, still bristling from the "idiot women" remark. If women were so bad at following orders, why didn't they send transformed men on seduction missions? As if men could pull off half the things women were expected to.

After a moment of tense silence, Mimura said, "It's too easy to explain away. They'll say that he passed away quietly in his bed. That's no scandal. We're supposed to slander his name."

"What do you want me to do, string him up by his—"

Mimura winced. "No. We'll just have to stage the rest of the operation more delicately. It involves more risk, since we'll have to rely on paparazzi, but if luck is on our side, things will work out favourably. Can you make him look a bit more ... embarrassing?"

"Embarrassing how?" she asked dumbly, right before her mind caught up.

"If it was your father, what would be the worst way you could find him?"

"If it was my father, I don't think I'd care, to be honest," she sneered. "But I have an idea anyway." She hitched up the skirt of her dress once more and ignored Mimura-taichou's startled choke. She shimmied out of her underwear, picking them up as they hit the floor.

Mimura, though watching curiously, said nothing as she hooked the panties around Karasuma's ankles.

"Lift him up a little?" Sakura asked. Mimura obliged, and she shoved the underwear up the nearly-dead man's legs with some difficulty. By the end of the journey, the fabric was stretched and a little frayed but in position nonetheless. Cursing herself again for failing to bring more appropriate undergarments, Sakura noted that though the underwear was quite plain, it was still clearly a woman's pair of panties.

Next, Sakura fetched Mirei's purse and pulled out the cosmetics she had seen earlier. Mirei's skin was – had been – flawless, so not much enhancement was necessary, but she did have some eye and lip makeup, which suited Sakura's purposes perfectly.

Sakura painted Karasuma's lips with a conveniently dark red colour then lined his eyes heavily with kohl. The eye shadow, in various shades of tawny gold, complemented the burnished oranges and springy yellows of Mirei's dress. Choosing a bright metallic hue, Sakura carefully covered each eyelid and the surrounding area right up to his eyebrow.

"Will this do?"

Mimura-taichou grunted in response, which Sakura assumed meant "yes". She took Karasuma's pulse in several places and put her ear to his naked chest to listen for any latent breath sounds. There were none.

"He's dead. What next?"

"Now we create a scandal." Mimura-taichou lighted on the windowsill and looked back at her. "Leave nothing behind and follow me."

Throwing the makeup back in the purse, Sakura removed her shoes from it. Luckily, Mirei had had a big enough purse to put them in, though Karasuma's maid had stared at Sakura oddly as she had done so. Otherwise, she would have had to leave the shoes behind and the less traces of her left, the better.

Sakura followed the escape route vetted days ago during their long surveillance. She gasped as she felt the breeze acutely, never having anticipated scaling any buildings panty-less. Nevertheless, she landed squarely in the neighbour's yard, knowing they were on vacation for the summer.

Mimura-taichou briefed her on the last leg of the mission, which was simple enough, then disappeared right after he informed her that he'd meet her a mile outside the city gates.

Sakura made her way to the headquarters of the tabloid rag he'd told her of. She hadn't really believed Mimura-taichou when he'd said it would be open this time of night, but it was. She rang the buzzer as the sign on the door instructed.

"Go away, Toru," said a tired-looking voice through the intercom.

"E-excuse me," Sakura began timidly. "I have information. I – I think you'd be interested."

"Really?" the voice said, suddenly more awake. "What on?"

"Karasuma Mabuchi. He's dead."

"He's what? I'll be right down. Don't go anywhere, madam – please!"

Less than a minute later, a man with wildly excited eyes and rumpled clothing swung open the main doors.

"My name is Nishida Yoshinaru. Oh, my, you do look a little battered up. Are you okay?" he asked, and Sakura's hand flew self-consciously to her cut cheek. "I'm sorry for the confusion earlier," he was gushing as he led her into an office space. "My friend Toru likes to bother me when I'm working nights, you see, but he never has any useful leads – dead, you say? Are you sure?"

"P-positive!" Sakura said, covering her face with a sob. "Well, I'm pretty sure. He was – we were – I'm a – and he clutched at his chest and it was awful and he stopped breathing and I just ran –"

He patted her back awkwardly, reaching behind the front desk to hand her some tissues. "There, there. It wasn't your fault. Now why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Don't you get it, Nishida-san? I'm a nobody. This will go on my head. We all know who owns Karasuma. They'll kill me."

The kindly man refused to meet her eyes. "I don't think they'll go as far as all that," he said reassuringly but couldn't hide the note of uncertainty lacing his voice.

"I have to get out of here. Run away. I'll tell you exactly where to find him so only you get the real story – and the pictures will be worth it, trust me – but I won't do it for free. I need enough money to leave the city before they trace him to me."

This part hadn't been Mimura-taichou's idea but Sakura thought it was less suspicious. Unless she was getting something out of it, why would she out herself? Plus, Sakura would most likely get to keep the money for herself.

The man named a figure – too low, probably, but she wasn't going to push it. Sakura accepted.

"You can wait here, and after we get the pictures, you can be on your way –"

"No! It will be too late by then. I need the money now."

"Listen, lady, I believe you, but if we were that trusting, we would be scammed left and right –"

"I can prove it," Sakura said, struck with sudden inspiration. She reached into Mirei's purse and pulled out the handkerchiefs used to gag Karasuma. "They have his initials on them. And his saliva. He likes to use them when we–" She blushed. "That is to say, in bed, he likes to--"

"I'm going to take your word for it," he said, inspecting the cloth carefully. "I'll catch flak for this later, but if I get this story, no one will question it." Suddenly, he looked straight into her eyes. "I'm only doing this because they will kill you, if you're right. I hope Karasuma is dead. Maybe our next leader will be different. For a rich city, too many people starve here."

"Me too," she whispered. If all went well, the next leader would be different. Konohagakure's overall mission was to take down the gang from the inside out and overhaul the whole city. Assassinating the figurehead politician was only one part of a larger operation.

"Now tell me what happened," he said, and she spun her tale.

Mimura-taichou was waiting for her in the designated place. "All went well, I trust?" he grunted in his usual gruff manor.

"They should be breaking down his door any minute now, cameras in hand." To be honest with herself, she was glad Mimura-taichou had planned out that eventuality. Its necessity hadn't even occurred to her.

"Good. Now let's get moving."

"I'm tired and I'm hardly dressed for travel," Sakura protested. She was more weary than she'd thought possible, after such a physically undemanding day. Mentally, though, she was drained.

"Change, then," Mimura said simply, setting her pack in front her. At least he hadn't left it behind the dumpster. "We need to cover as much distance as possible before the papers hit the newsstands."

Without a word, she gathered her ninja clothing. Mimura turned his back to her for privacy and she trusted him not to peek, which wasn't something she'd say for all men. After slipping out of the dress, she bound her breasts with the ease of practise. Frowning, she noted the nastily puckered scar tissue on her stomach and the matching wound on her back. It shouldn't be visible yet, but there it was. Clearly, she hadn't perfected Tsunade-shishou's tactile genjutsu. Shrugging the thought away for another time, she quickly finished dressing.

"You can turn around now," she said, and he did, watching her curiously as she folded the dress and placed it in her pack carefully.

"You're keeping it? Most kunoichi don't, I've found."

"It's worth a good bit of money," Sakura replied flatly. "When we get back home, I'll sell it." Mirei may have been a prostitute but her services were by no means cheap; clients like Karasuma expected, and paid for, quality. Finally, Sakura dropped the henge on her face with a feeling of great relief and passed a quick healing hand over her face.

"Ready?" Mimura asked as she stood. She nodded and they took off with all the speed afforded to them by their shinobi heritage.

They travelled in silence for hours, fatigue growing steadily. By the time the sun began to peek over the horizon, the pace had slowed considerably.

It was either speak or fall asleep where she stood, Sakura decided.

"I don't see the necessity of Kitagawa Mirei's death," she blurted out, then blanched. Lately, it seemed that as energy deserted her, so did common sense and propriety.

"They'd have found her and killed her anyway, probably only after extracting information from her that would lead them straight to Konoha."

"What if they didn't find her? What if we brought her back to Konoha or something? She could have started over –"

"Prostitution is illegal in Konoha, if you hadn't forgotten," Mimura said coldly.

Sakura flushed. "I didn't mean it like that. She could have done something else. Worked with Hana-san, maybe. She – she loved dogs."

"Konoha can't afford to leave loose ends like her. She was a worthless person in society, Haruno, and her death was inevitable."

"She's worthless because she puts a price on her body? Am I worthless too, then?" Sakura snapped before she could stop herself.

"You're a kunoichi, not a whore."

"On missions like this, I can hardly tell the difference." Face souring, she went on, "Can you really tell me that this mission isn't about money, in the end?"

"We're freeing Nenzo from the influence of –"

"No, we're freeing Konoha from high trade tariffs. If not, why not just eliminate the whole gang and be done with it? Why all the trouble to avoid revealing ninja involvement?" Mimura didn't answer. "It's because we have to tread carefully, since it's in Earth country and out of our jurisdiction. But this city exports important products to Konoha and our allies, so it's still our business, right?"

"And if Konoha was in a war and Taki or Kusa ran out of supplies, what do you suppose would happen?"

Sakura was silent. The tabloid journalist's words rose unbidden in her mind. "For a rich city, too many people starve here."

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "I still think her death was avoidable but I should not have spoken. I was out of line."

Mimura-taichou didn't acknowledge her apology. An hour later, he stopped them and offered to take the first watch.

By the time they finally reached Konoha, Sakura and Mimura looked exactly as they felt: as if they'd spent days of bad weather in the brush. It had rained heavily for most of the journey, but the last day had been graced with just enough annoyingly bright sunshine to cook their mud covering into a close approximation of brick.

They dragged themselves up to the Hokage's office for debriefing, after which Sakura planned to find the nearest bath house and sit in it for at least two days. Outside Tsunade-shishou's door – Danzou's door, for now, she corrected herself – she was surprised to see Kakashi's familiarly slouched figure, face in one of his books. He likes the green one the best, she mused.

He looked up as they approached. "Whoa, is that Sakura-chan? You seem to have sprouted a helmet since the last time I saw you." He paused, a considering look on the visible part of his face. "It's rather fetching, actually."

"Not as fetching as your dead body," she grumbled as she passed, not failing to catch that Kakashi's smile was more forced than usual. It wasn't altogether surprising, she supposed. The voice in her mind that was almost always brutally honest reminded her, As far as he knows, you killed his teammate. Not that he'd asked or anything, of course. Clearing the air was not a specialty of his, that's for sure. She wondered if he hadn't been avoiding her; just before she'd left on this mission, he had curtly informed her he'd removed his own stitches by way of a note on her front door. Belatedly, she wished she could take back her poorly chosen words.

Kakashi didn't seem to be dwelling over them, though. He and Mimura-taichou caught each other's eye and nodded respectfully. She guessed they knew each other, which made sense, now that she thought about it. They were both official heroes from the same war.

With a sigh, she pushed opened the doors. She used to look forward to debriefings. Now she hated them. They felt like tests she had no chance of passing.

She couldn't tell if she was imagining the look of disappointment in Danzou's eyes when they reported the mission success. She thought for a minute he'd argue – his standards of success being far more exacting than Tsunade's ever were – but instead, he produced a newspaper. The front page headline read "Karasuma Mabuchi: Died Engaging in Dangerous Sex Acts with Prostitute". This was a respected journal based out of Nenzo, not the tabloid she'd sold the information to. It seemed that their mission really was a success, down to every letter. She couldn't stop the smile from creeping across her face as Mimura dryly recounted the details, momentarily forgetting her worries that he'd tell Danzou how inappropriately rude she'd been to her captain or that she'd utilised unauthorised poison.

She was reminded rather abruptly, though, when Danzou asked Mimura point blank why he'd allowed the use of poison when secrecy was paramount.

She froze, waiting for his answer. He would tell the truth, of course, and say that he hadn't.

"I chose to trust Tsunade-sama's apprentice with her medical knowledge," Mimura said instead, shocking her. "She assured me that it was undetectable. I left that leg of the mission up to her, and just as she promised, the poison was suitable."

He hadn't lied, exactly, but.... She stared at him in wonder. At the beginning of the mission, she'd been wary of him, knowing that Danzou most likely chose him as mission leader because of his tendency to reveal conduct faults during debriefing that she hadn't even known she'd committed. She was sure that Danzou, bolstered from the recent controversy over Nakajima Mogusa, was looking for a reason to discredit her for good.

Mimura offered no more information, completely failing to mention any of her other mistakes. It was disconcerting and unusual. After a brief period of silence in which Danzou did a lot of glancing between the two of them, he motioned to one of the lackeys permanently stationed in the corner – Fu, she remembered -- who opened the door, ushering Kakashi inside.

"Well, Haruno," began Danzou, expression suspiciously neutral. "After your last mission's spectacular failure, I wasn't sure you were suited for field work after all. And it seems that you aren't suited for hospital work either," he added nastily. She scowled. "But everyone can luck into success every once in awhile. Let's see if you can keep it going. If not, you know there's still one place that will take you...."

"You know I refuse," she snapped, struggling to hold her tongue. She didn't know why Kakashi was there but she did know that Danzou had brought him in just in time to berate her and that it wasn't a coincidence. Sakura spotted Kakashi eyeing the newspaper article and caught his surprised glance. She blushed furiously but ignored him.

"But if there's no other option, the choice will no longer be yours," Danzou said.

"I'm off hospital duty because you said that I was needed more in the field, not because I've done anything wrong, if you'll recall. And the agreement was that I am still on call there on a case by case basis."

"I still fail to see the practicality in that—"

"You'll see the practicality when someone dies from something I can heal just because I'm not there to—"

"That's enough, Haruno," said Danzou, his voice as calm and even as ever. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop any further outbursts. "We have more important things to discuss." He turned to Mimura-taichou. "You are dismissed."

Mimura left without a word. She stared at his retreating back desperately, feeling a little abandoned.

"Haruno," Danzou barked, turning his attention back to her. She jumped. "You are aware, I believe, that Hatake Kakashi's ANBU squad is currently short one member."

"Yes, Hokage-sama," she muttered, frowning. She refused to meet Kakashi's eye.

"You are also familiar with our available medic-nin. Who would you consider promoting in Nakajima Mogusa's place?"

She thought about it. "Shizune-san would be ideal, but the hospital can't spare her," she said slowly.

"I was considering Hamada Hiroyuki."

Sakura's temper immediately flared up. "Hamada is unsuited for the position of field medic."

"And why is that?"

"In high pressure situations, he is prone to making fatal mistakes. I raised the same objections when you were considering him for promotion to ANBU medic. You overruled me." She glared at him unremittingly. And who's been proven correct? she wanted to add but didn't.

"I think I value him in the hospital too much, for now," Danzou said off-hand and she was forced to bite her tongue again. That idiot didn't deserve to step foot in a hospital. "Anyone else?"

"All other medics strong enough to serve in ANBU capacity from a shinobi standpoint are not skilled enough, medically speaking. None of the medics with the requisite skill are above chuunin level." It was tough to think that there was no one to fill Nakajima Mogusa's spot on Kakashi's squad. A hot wave of guilt overcame her. She wondered if this wasn't Danzou's intention in raising the subject.

"You see my dilemma, then. I have, therefore, devised a temporary solution. You, Haruno Sakura, already conveniently placed in the field and in possession of ANBU-level security clearance, will be placed on Hatake's platoon on a provisional basis."

Kakashi spoke for the first time. "She is, as you say, a chuunin. ANBU must be special jounin or higher."

Am I being promoted? she thought incredulously. Impossible.

"Believe it or not, I am aware of that fact, Hatake. It hasn't been done in awhile, but chuunin can fill temporary gaps in ANBU in times of need."

"So you're doing that? Including the codenames and secrecy?"

"I am," confirmed Danzou. "So, Haruno. You might want to think about dying your hair."

A/N: Oh, snap! Anddddd we're getting to the good bits now. Huzzah.

Please don't hesitate to let me know what you thought in detail; I'm writing this as a personal exercise but feedback is always appreciated. If you find a hole, poke it until it becomes bigger. If it's jarring, say so. If you liked it, letting me know what exactly you liked about it is more helpful than you might imagine. So far, most of my reviewers have been great about this, so thanks.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Playing the Game