#theres only one black man - the rest of your companions are white - and hes the ONLY ONE out of the ENTIRE PARTY thats just ignored?

[viperbooty]

its a really big bummer to see the mass success of bg3, to see how many artists and players alike have enjoyed this game and yet, somehow, almost every time, wyll is magically not mentioned or drawn, featured in a video, hes not adored or hated

so far the fandom just generally acts like hes not even there. and it makes me sad to see the single black companion get this level of people ignoring him, his arc, his personality, even just people disliking or hating him

instead the only thing that caught any wind was how quickly a mod came out to make wyll white. how fucking sad.

[voidselfshipp]

The Sound Of Kindness

You know when you read a fanfic with great idea but the reader insert is always scared and its frustrated.

Well heres the opposite with me and death meeting based off that fic.

Tw:implications of child abuse

Ok to rb

Ozi has told her Many times,do not bother the dead.

Jerico was a Smart goddess, half human now, but that side of hers couldnt Keep still.

She Walked Into the old manor, the moonlight dripped from the dusty blinds.

Theres something here.

She could feel it,the Mark on her hand shined softly,reminescent of the morning sun.

She kept on waking, the energy was coming from the basement, she was a goddess, one swift move and she Will transform into a big white dragon.

She felt fear before,before she discovered her past life,but her powers gave her bravery,and knowing that the beating of her heart could impulse defeated batallions back to the fight.

Her heartbeat ran like wild horses marching into battle,the anticipation of a misadventure pumped her up, her hands,now claws, softly caressed the handrail as she went down the old stairs.

The door closes, and she jumps.

--Okay....,that was weird--she should have told her aunt at least.

Though ozi wouldnt be fine with it.

Something moved, swiftly.

--I know youre here--she said.

And he knew that.

Death, now in his reaper form hid in the shadows, the ammount of power that poured from that small human, scared Him a little.

He saw her face soften,and her ears perk up,those green eyes met his, and he felt a warm feeling in his empty ribcage.

--Hey there you are--she Walked softly to him, and he wasnt expecting the dragon like wings that came from her back,as she flied right infront of his face.

--....not.....scared??--its all he could muster in that form.

--Ive dealt with scarier things...--she then giggled.

She was tainted with the smell of death too,but not from hers, a fellow reaper...or the goddess of death.

--im jerico--she said.

Thats when his pupils caught the Mark on her right hand.

His long neck spiraled around her back,where he saw her exposed skin,and the bright sun Mark there shining brightly.

--terran.....?--he said again, turning back to meet her face.

-- hir-- she said in clear terran-- homyd geviizalaz-- he tilted his head--Yes,im terran,youre quite observant arent you

--what....are...you?--his raspy voice almost dry,Like its not been used in a while.

--Its a very long story....nor human,nor goddess,nor demigoddess,what I am,not even I know, and if you dont mind me asking, what are you?

--....horseman...

--nice to meet you--jerico said smiling--guess you wouldnt mind me asking your name

The horseman sighed, and looked away, theres no way shed be scared of his name-- d...dea....death

He looked at her, she kept her smile, and nodded, her wings flapped lazily,enough to have her float, she was getting tired.

Death Scooped her around his hands and held her close,she was strangely warm.

Warmer than any human.

Then he felt her heartbeat, it sounded like hymn with no words, but yet he could understand what the song said.

He might have said it was cheesy, but the sudden warmth made him stay quiet, the song seemed personal.

A song of love, loss, grief, and a hymn to pride, discovery, and Curiosity.

His face nuzzled against her chest, where he could hear the hymn better.

--....sing?

--sing what?

The nose of his bone poked her chest.

She seemed puzzled,then it dawned on her-- you can hear it too?

He nodded softly.

--why would you want to hear it?

--know......about...you...

She tilted her head,her hands softly placed themselves on his skull, and caressed it, he caved in and his knees Buckeld, kneeling on the ground slouched.

Whoever death is...or was...it seems like its been a while since he had felt this warmth, this closeness and this tenderness,and jerico came to the relaziation when he felt him grunt with a broken voice.

She cleared her throat,and opened her mouth.

--all I remember--she sang-- its the screams of justice, all I saw, was someone in need of help.

What I was....who I am, didnt seem to matter,as my heart, pumped with desire.

I extended my hand to the human, who had finally gotten justice for her husband.

Then a yelp, a cry of help, and thats when I felt.

The human just smiled--death seemed to calm down and wrap his wings around her--as I heed her...so did she to me...

And soon enough a human id be....--

Deaths face lifted up as she heard her gulp,and tears formed on the corner of her eyes--oh how wrong I was--her voice rised up--when I thought it was all about love, oh how wrong I was, to forget that pain could be inflicted upon Man.

How Greed and narcissim could ruin such thing,as the Bond of a mother and her offspring...

But now I am here,resting in peace, with more knowledge and love that I have ever got before...--at the end her voice cracked as tears rolled down her eyes.

He wiped her tears away with a Giant hand,and pressed her against his chest.

Jerico sniffled, and gripped his cloack.

--Sorry....

She shook her head--dont be...I just get emotional when I sing it

Death Rose her up back to meet his face.

--Lets get out of here okay?,my allergies are kicking in --She chuckled and so does he.

And in a quick dash they were on old library.

The reaper left his companion on one of the tall bookshelves, where she sat

The first morning Rays filtered through the Windows.

Death looked at them and sighed--its....almost time

--hm?

He pointed at the sunrays and then at himself, making a hand gesture of something shrinking-- I....normal again

--ah i see --She jumped off the bookshelves and landed on the floor with no harm done-- maybe we can get out of here, and get you something for that throat,would you like that?

The reaper chuckled and nodded.

Then a shriek ripped from his throat,as his wings enveloped him, and shrank Back to his size.

He was still taller than her, messy and dirty black locks fell astray on the Mask covering his face.

The pale skin,seemed rough to the touch, death dragged himself to her, and hugged her as tight as he could.

Jerico smiled--Morning to you too

He grunted a chuckle, and both Walked out of the old manor.

The streets were empty,and the morning sun made jeri look even more beautiful, her eyes reflected the light and made them seem like two emeralds,he felt his cheeks Run hot.

His hand softly ghosted over her Lower back.

She shivered and looked at him, the chuckled and pulled him closer to her.

--If you need affection dont be afraid to ask, I have much to give--her heart not only poured power,but kindness too.

They finally arrived at jericos house,or more so her aunts.

He felt that energy again,the aura of someone as powerfull, that could only belong to someone such as the goddess of death herself.

She gave him some tea with honey,always keeping a hand on his shoulder.

He then collapsed on the sofá, his whole body ached from the transformation.

She layed ontop of him, the blinds were barely letting the sun come in.

Death cupped her cheeks, and she sleepily smiled to him ,he took off his mask and his chapped lips pressed against hers--thank...you

She kissed him again and he felt her smile against his lips--Dont mention it

[thekracken]

okay but 

where is my fic with the nate and eliot background stories? i mean they’re buddies in the pilot. reluctant (on nates end) buddies. on the kfmonkey blog they say nate “caught hardison, never caught parker. technically worked parallel to eliot several times, chased him a few” and then in the pilot we have the whole pool table scene? 

“listen, i’m sorry about your kid” “you dont know anything about that” “everybody knows. a guy like you goes off the street, a lot of people notice” okay this tells us a few things. eliot knew about nates personal life before they meet up-- he had to have known to be comfortable enough to offer his condolences, unprompted and years later. 

so wheres the fics where eliot and nate are NOT working together they’re just. holed up together. and theres a lot of grumbling and sassing and “i will arrest you” and “before or after i knock you unconscious” but then, they’ve settled down into companionable silence. it’s late, they’re both waiting for the dead of night to make their move and nates watch beeps, three soft little beeps and eliot glances at his own watch to check the time before he looks over at nate. “what was that” and nates reply is quick, “nothing.” eliot stays silent and nate continues after a pause, “it’s my sons birthday” “you have a son?” eliot asks, and nate hears the unspoken, why arent you home? “he’s three. four now,” nate says into the dark “there’ll be plenty of birthdays for me to be at when he’ll actually remember them” 

or the time when nate’s on eliot’s tail and he’s so close to catching him red-handed, but when nate bursts into the hotel room where, according to all his sources, eliot should’ve been in, all his finds is a neatly made bed and a toy fire engine, resting on the sheets with a post-it note that says ‘for your boy’ on it. eliot never finds out if nate took it home or left it there, but that doesnt stop him the next time he’s walking past a toy store and sees a black and white soccer ball sitting in the window. he thinks of japan 2002, and he thinks of losing nate in a crowd of ecstatic brazil fans.. he grins to his reflection in the glass and buys it, leaving it behind for nate’s son with a cheeky message. 

and what about when nate loses his son. and the art criminal underground sits up and takes notice. eliot, at first, assumes it was an accident. just. a horrible accident. but then details start to emerge. the ford boy was sick, they say. some say it was cancer, some say it was a birth defect. a bad lung, a bad heart. some hear he had meningitis as a baby and it all spiraled from there. but theres one thing he learns, his death wasnt an accident and it was preventable, if only someone could afford the bill. eliot wishes he’d known. wishes nate had told him his boy was sick. eliot has all this fucking money... he wouldve given it away. donated it anonymously, wouldve bought the kid another day if hed known.  almost like they were paying respects, no one moved IYS merchandise until after the funeral. payments were halted, plans were paused, giving nate imagined reprieve, because despite the man, a lot of criminals were fond of him. but, debts need paid and work began as usual once the boy was in the ground.  but nate didnt come back. he didnt come back and didnt come back.  and the bad criminals took notice. then the Bad(tm) criminals took notice.  and eliot has enough debts to cover, he has enough issues of his own to deal with. but he overhears a plan and maybe his stomach clenches in angerfeardisgust because the man just lost his son, lost his wife.... eliot thinks of all the times nate let him go. thinks of all the times they worked side by side and raced to get intel or merchandise. thinks of the one time they stumbled upon each other and eliot was bleeding sluggishly from a wound he couldnt reach to suture and nate sewed him up before leaving in the night. 

eliot has enough on his plate. and it will be another two years before he even sees nathan ford again, let alone decides to work with him, but when he’s mercilessly beating the goons looking for nates address he makes his point perfectly clear. anyone looking for nate ford will be answering to him

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 19

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

Chapter Nineteen The blank edges of a map

Itachi wasn’t there when Sakura arrived. He hadn’t replied to her text two days ago, but she wasn’t too concerned. He had never disappointed her before.

She waited for him just inside the mouth of the alley, between the club and an old restaurant that had closed down some time ago. She was but a shadow, dressed in all black from her boots to her jeans and leather jacket as she leaned against the wall that separated her from the club. The music reverberated against her spine.

She didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later, Sakura heard the faint tap of footsteps down the opposite end of the alley. “You look nice,” Itachi said. “Is it my birthday?”

Sakura bit back her smirk as she looked up at him. He was dressed well in a pair of dark jeans and a dark blue button up shirt. He had rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. A mix of formal and casual wear. Good. She needed him to look his best tonight.

Pushing off the wall, Sakura stepped towards him, giving him a careful onceover. She straightened his collar a little and brushed his bangs out of his face before she smiled in return. “Feels like it’s my birthday.”

Itachi’s smile briefly widened before he peered out into the street where party-goers were all funneling towards the small entrance of the large building. “What are we doing here?”

“I need to have a talk with an old friend,” she told him, following his gaze. “You might know her. Here, she’s known as Sekhmet.”

“The Goddess of Power.”

Sakura nodded, somewhat surprised he recognized the name. “If there’s any movement of anything in or out of Egypt, she knows.”

“And you want to know more about that port in New York,” Itachi concluded. When she nodded, his brow furrowed. “So why do you need me here?”

“I can’t go in alone,” she told him. When Itachi shot her a questioning look, she sighed, “I…may have killed her brother.”

In an instant, all playfulness dropped from his expression. He shot her an incredulous look, as if still trying to figure out if she was completely or only mostly out of her mind. Not that she could entirely blame him. This was almost the dumbest thing she had ever done.

“It’s complicated,” Sakura said when Itachi continued looking at her like he was waiting for an explanation.

He huffed a humorless laugh through his nose. “And what makes you think you can walk in there without her killing you?”

Looking away from the crowd, she turned to face him fully. “You.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed. “Me?” he repeated.

She nodded, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Temari only mostly hates me so I’ll at least be able to get one, maybe two words in before she goes for her gun. And she loves pretty boys.”

“So, I’m here to flirt with her,” he said, his voice flat.

“Don’t worry. She won’t do anything to you. Maybe.” When Itachi continued to just stare, she brushed a piece of invisible lint off his shirt with a small smile. “Just play along. You’re CIA. I figured you would be good as this by now.”

Itachi looked like he had more to say but she didn’t give him the chance as she finally moved forward to blend into the crowd. She didn’t have to look back to know he was following, feeling his hand wrap around the inside of her elbow so they didn’t get separated.

At the door, Sakura smiled at the bouncers and whispered the right words to get in. They eyed her skeptically but didn’t question her. Merely unhooked the red rope to let her and Itachi pass.  

Inside, the club was pounding. Literally. Heavy beats rattled her bones and made the floor quake beneath her feet. Bright, flashing lights flickered overhead, enticing those standing on the sidelines to join the party.

Normally, Sakura would have loved to get lost in the deep bass and the semi-darkness where no one knew her name. Now, it only made it harder to concentrate, harder to think.

With Itachi still on her arm, Sakura weaved through the throng of girls in short dresses. Many clung to guys with wandering eyes who didn’t even know their names. She stopped just outside the main dancefloor to gaze purposefully about the club.

Beside her, Itachi’s hand tightened on her arm. She glanced at him and followed his gaze to a group of men that were eyeing her. She ignored them.

“Don’t worry about them,” she told him. “These are just civilians.” Then she nodded towards a door upstairs in a tucked away corner of the room. “Up there is who we have to worry about.”

Over the pounding music, Itachi didn’t bother trying to reply. He merely followed her up the narrow, nearly invisible stairs in the back and down the hall where four large bouncers were guarding the door. They all wore black t-shirts, their biceps nearly bursting the stitching in the arms and their tattoos out on display for all to see.

The closest one barely took one look at her before turning to Itachi. “You and your lady friend are going the wrong way. Party is downstairs.”

Unfazed, Itachi jerked his chin towards the mass of bodies swaying on the dancefloor. “That’s not the type of party we’re looking for. Our tastes are for something a little more private. Perhaps Sekhmet has enough room for two more. Two more with money to spare.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at that name. He eyed the pair of them again and seemed to think before he looked back at his companions and nodded once. His silent permission that they were granted access.

Sakura briefly glanced at Itachi as they slipped through the door. He returned her stare with a faint smirk. He was better at this than she thought.

The guard closed the door behind them as they slipped into a hall, muting the loud music below. She and Itachi followed it until they reached a shimmering, silk curtain. Beyond it led to a large room. There was a dozen or so people in the room, the clinking of their crystal glasses and murmured conversation floating up into the high ceiling. More silk hung from above in shades of the richest purples and deepest reds. The rest of the space was accentuated in sparkling golds, the colors all blending together to give a warmth to the otherwise colorless room.

Towards the middle of the room, four pillars of marble stamped a wide square onto the white tiles. Just inside that, the floor sunk down where a chaise lounge sofa sat. That was where Temari lounged.

She sat like a queen of the ages with her blonde hair tied back, exposing her long neck and accentuating the gold, stringed head piece along her forehead and atop the crown of her head. Her eyeliner was winged and sharp, drawing attention to her almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed in long flowing, harem pants and a shirt of the smoothest silk, her feet bare and decorated with intricate henna.

On either side of her, Temari kept company with a pair of young boys. Likely barely twenty. Not that that was surprising. Sakura remembered the blonde always went for the younger ones.

Temari looked up when Itachi entered. She eyed him curiously, giving him a long onceover as a playful smile formed on her lips. It fell the instant she spotted Sakura a pace behind him.

Like a candle dying in the wind, all warmth drained from Temari’s features. She didn’t spare another word to the boys beside her as she rose from her throne of plush pillows. Her face was hard as she approached, her expression carved from stone. “You have some nerve showing up here.”

Sakura and Itachi stopped a pace from where the floor dropped down. “Temari, I-“

That was all Sakura got out before Temari’s fist connected with her face. The crack of her knuckles echoed throughout the room. Sakura grimaced but made no move to defend herself or retaliate. She had expected worse. Beside her, Itachi tensed but remained still as the rest of the room fell silent.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand,” Temari demanded.

Trying to hide how much her jaw ached, Sakura looked up at the blonde. It didn’t escape her notice the guards in the corners of the room had reached into the inside pockets of their tailored suits. Hands likely around concealed weapons.

“You and I both know I did everyone a favor by killing Gaara,” Sakura said unapologetically. “He was a terrorist. In every sense of the word.”

When Temari’s eyes narrowed, Sakura took a step forward before she could cock her fist again, closing the space between them until she could whisper just loud enough for Temari to hear. “Don’t forget that I was the one who stopped him from strangling you that night.”

The blonde didn’t immediately move, the both of them remembering that cold, winter night. Her wheezing, hollow gasps while Sakura pleaded with Gaara to release his only sister.

This time when Sakura met Temari’s gaze, the anger and hate was replaced with something painful, something she was unable to describe. “He was my brother,” Temari murmured so quietly Sakura nearly missed the hurt in her voice.

Sakura swallowed thickly, trying to push down the sudden knot of sympathy that had balled in her chest. “I know.”

The next time Temari blinked her vulnerability was gone and in its place was her usual, cool frostiness. “So, what are you doing here? It’s not like you to apologize for anything so you must want something from me.”

With the thick tension broken, the soft conversation on the outskirts of the room resumed. Sakura tried to hide her smile at Temari’s perception, tried to hide how much her jaw ached. If there was one thing she learned from Gaara, it was how to throw a punch.

“We need some information,” Itachi stepped forward, speaking for the first time.

Temari pulled her gaze from Sakura to study him. She said nothing for a long moment before she extended her hand to him. And just as Sakura had hoped, Itachi accepted it.

“Information on what exactly?” Temari asked.

She led him towards the lounge chair she had been resting on when they arrived, wordlessly waving the pair of boys away. They made themselves scarce without a word. With them gone, Temari made herself comfortable upon the cushions, ensuring Itachi seated himself close by.

“Shipments out of Cairo and into the States,” Itachi said, turning to face Temari completely. “Specifically, into New York City.”

It didn’t escape Sakura’s notice Temari had purposely left no room for her to join. She resisted the urge to sigh at her antics as she stopped beside them. Still standing.

Temari arched her brow at Itachi. “Shipments of what?”

“Guns, drugs, the usual,” he listed.

When the blonde hummed thoughtfully, Sakura added, “It looks like Akatsuki, but a reliable source doesn’t think so.”

Temari peered up at her, the gold in her hair sparkling. “I’ve heard of the port. A shipment left here a few weeks ago to head into New York. I had assumed it was you so I didn’t look at it too hard,” she said. Then her gaze returned to Itachi. “If you want more information, I can look into it and let you know what I find.”

Itachi smiled. “We would appreciate it.”

Temari returned his smile for one of her own before it fell with a glance at Sakura. “You know I require payment first.”

“If you can find out who is using the port in New York, I’ll pay you one hundred million pounds,” Sakura told her.

The blonde arched her brow in surprise at the high price, the question obvious on the tip of her tongue. In never came. Instead, she pretended to think. Her gaze studying Sakura before turning back to Itachi. The start of a cunning smile on her lips. “One hundred million pounds. And I get to keep pretty boy.”

Itachi turned to look at Sakura at that. She couldn’t help but smile as she read the look in his eyes. “Pretty boy is mine,” she said, redirecting her attention to Temari. “Take the money or leave it.”

The older woman eyed Itachi for a moment longer before she sighed. “Fine,” she waved him away. “Wire the money to me by tomorrow or there’s no deal.”

With their business concluded, Sakura left with Itachi in tow, much to the pout of Temari. They headed back out the way they came, weaving their way through the party-goers still dancing and drinking downstairs.

The fresh air outside was a welcomed relief from the sticky heat of the crowded club. Although heavy. Like rain was threatening to fall.

Sakura inhaled deeply, wincing when her jaw ached. She rubbed the sore spot briefly, her fingers pressing along the skin just enough to determine that she would in fact have a bruise. At least Temari had played nice. Mostly.

Itachi was already watching her when Sakura looked at him. She dropped her hand, realizing she was still massaging her abused face.

“I’m hungry,” Itachi said before she could speak. “We should get something to eat.”

And that was how Sakura found herself at some American diner on the corner. It was a few streets back from the more touristy areas and a little tucked away. At this hour, they were the only customers. The older crowd already retired to bed and the younger ones still drinking in the clubs.

They ordered nachos before the waitress collected their menus and disappeared into the back. Even alone, they didn’t speak. Itachi watched Sakura over his coffee mug. Her phone sat on the table between them. Face up but silent. Only the screen lighting up every so often to indicate she had a new message.

Each time, Itachi glanced at her. She didn't touch it. Instead her gaze lingered elsewhere. The streamers hanging from the ceiling of the restaurant as they spun slowly, the steam rising from his coffee mug, the fall of the rain outside as it dripped down the window. She stared at all these things with rapt attention. As if she saw some deeper meaning in the little things.

Itachi just watched her, her earlier words playing over in his head. ‘Pretty boy is mine.’ He knew she had meant it as a power play against Temari, but that single statement had stirred something deep in his chest.

It stirred again now as he observed her. Eyeing the way she ran the back of her fingers against her jaw. It had to ache from the force behind Temari’s blow, but Sakura didn’t show any signs of discomfort. She had acted like it hadn’t even hurt at the time.

It was some minutes before Sakura noticed his stare. She cocked her brow. The same look she always gave when she caught him staring.

“You haven't spoken since we left Temari's,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

She said nothing for a minute more as a frown settled over her features. She sank back against the back of the booth heavily. “Some dots are beginning to connect that worry me,” Sakura said quietly.

Itachi’s brow furrowed. “With Akatsuki?”

She nodded, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Our meeting with Kisame is making me think Akatsuki is growing faster than we think.”

“Because he didn’t know about the port in New York?” he asked. When she said nothing, Itachi frowned. “Are you certain that shipment was even Akatsuki’s and not another group? There’s more illegal product moving in and out of America than there has been in years. It’s possible someone else-”

“I saw the port myself,” Sakura interrupted, her tone not unkind but unyielding. “It’s Akatsuki. And the fact Kisame doesn’t know might mean he’s been compromised or Pein has another arms supplier.”

Itachi was quiet for a long moment as he considered her words, a deep frown etched into the corners of his mouth. It was a minute before he spoke again, “Let’s wait to see what Temari says before we jump to any conclusions.”

Over the table, Sakura met Itachi’s gaze. He seemed to be pleading with her, as if trying to convince her to give Kisame the benefit of the doubt. She supposed she didn’t have any proof of her claims yet. Only a churning in her stomach that made her uneasy.

Eventually she nodded. A small smile caressed the corner of Itachi’s mouth before it disappeared behind his coffee mug. Sakura studied him, finding that she liked watching him. Noticing the little things. Like the way his shoulders filled his shirt, how he held his coffee mug from the side and not the handle. How his expression changed minutely when he looked up again and caught her stare.

“What is it?” he asked.

She didn’t understand his question until she realized her smile had dwindled into a frown. “There’s something else,” she began slowly. “Do you remember the payments Shisui found? The ones Hashirama was providing Madara.”

“You found out what the payments are for.”

Sakura inclined her head. “Hashirama is paying Madara to watch me.”

Itachi stilled, his gaze briefly flickering out the window as if he expected to find some shadow staring back at them across the street. “You don’t think he knows about us?”

“No. If he did, he would have taken me out by now,” she told him, unfazed by the thought. “I think Hashirama is expecting me to turn against him though.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Probably because I came to work for him as a favor from my adopted mother. And she loathes him.”

A look of confusion passed Itachi’s face as Sakura rested her chin on her palm. She could still recall the arguments they used to get into. At least she assumed they were. She could only hear Tsunade’s side of the conversation, but the hushed, angry whispers and abrupt ends led her to believe that things between her mother and Hashirama had slowly deteriorated over time.

“She never told me much about their relationship,” Sakura continued. “But I think Hashirama started shorting her on payments. I think that’s why Tsunade finally cut ties with him and left me in charge so she could move on.”

“So that’s where you got the name Tsunade from,” Itachi murmured. When Sakura shot him a puzzled look, he explained, “There’s not a lot known about you, even with Mossad and the CIA after you. We know that you were born in the States and raised in Israel, but other than that your file is pretty much full of guessed information. For a while, many of us believed you were multiple people. I guess we were half-right in that regard.”

Sakura drank from her water glass as she considered Itachi. Caught with the sudden urge to tell him more but not wanting to give too much away. She thought about her next words carefully. “I was born in the States, but I was moved to Russia before I turned one,” she told him. “I stayed there until I was six when Hashirama found me and brought me to his niece, Tsunade.”

“Your adopted mother,” Itachi said, connecting the dots. “So, she took you and raised you.”

“More like trained me,” Sakura corrected. “She was less nurturing and more interested in teaching me her trade. How to conceal a weapon, how to steal. How to lie.”

Itachi frowned, like he was pitying her. She half expected him to apologize for her poor childhood. To her relief, he didn’t, “You have the widest range of connections of any criminal I’ve ever tracked. You must have moved around a lot.”

Warmth flushed through Sakura at his compliment. She tried to push it away as she drank from her water glass. Instead recalling all the homes, all the cities they had jumped around. Never staying in one place for too long. Just long enough to establish contacts or create connections before moving on.

Itachi sipped his coffee as he considered what she had just told him. When he lowered it, he eyed her again. “Is Sakura even your real name?”

Sakura didn’t immediately reply. Not because she didn’t want to tell him, but because she didn’t know for certain herself. She had never known her birth name – or if she had even been given one. She knew they had called her something else in that cold orphanage, but that name had long since faded from her memory.

In the end, Sakura merely shrugged. “It’s the one I like.”

Their food arrived after that. They talked about insignificant things as they picked through the large pile of nachos for the perfect chip. She couldn’t help her smile when Itachi peeled off his jalapenos and nearly horded the little cups of sour cream and guacamole their waitress had provided. Sakura let him, not too picky with what she ate.

By the time they finished, the little diner was closing for the night. The waitress locked the door behind them and turned the outside light off, casting them into semi-darkness. She and Itachi paused under the front awning, observing the rain that fell just beyond.

It was a few blocks to her hotel. Sakura would undoubtedly be soaked by the time she got there. Perhaps she should have checked the weather before she left, but Temari had been her only thought when she had slipped out earlier that evening.

When Sakura turned back to Itachi, she saw he was already watching her. That same look in his eyes she recognized but still couldn’t quite place. She frowned. “Why do you look at me like that?”

He was quiet a moment. Then said, “Because I like the way you look at the world.”

“As a tool to be used?” she asked sarcastically, trying to distract from the way her heart was suddenly thumping in her chest.

Itachi merely shook his head, the start of a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. “As something to be looked at.”

Sakura held his gaze for a moment before she looked away, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She fidgeted with her jacket, pulling her collar tighter around her neck and drawing the zipper higher. When her face cooled, she looked back at Itachi only to find he was still smiling.

She frowned in defense. “Are you flirting with me, Agent Uchiha?”

“Would you be so opposed to it?” he asked in return.

For some reason that made her pause. For she could recall saying the very same thing to him those months ago. The only difference now was she got the feeling he wasn’t completely teasing.

She swallowed, suddenly unsure how to respond.

Itachi saved her from her own embarrassment by taking a single step back, a knowing look entering his gaze. “I’ll be in touch. Have a good night, Sakura,” he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue like it had a million times before.

Then he stepped out into the rain and walked away.

Sakura watched him without moving, feeling hot and cold all over. It wasn’t until he was disappeared around the corner that a glare fell over her features.

Damn, Uchiha. He certainly was better at this game than she thought.

to be continued…