Afraid of the Dark (KakaSaku)

Incessant Motion

The day had come, faster than Sakura had expected. Kakashi had spent the entire previous day going over the intricate details of the plan with her, drilling each step into her mind. Her stomach twisted as she recalled one crucial detail: he wouldn't be there. His voice echoed in her mind, cold and distant: "You're on your own. I can't be around."

Sakura had tried to mentally prepare herself, but the enormity of what she was about to do weighed heavily on her. She found herself reaching for her drink again, seeking comfort in its warmth.

Standing at the door, Kakashi gripped her shoulders firmly, his eyes scanning her for any sign of hesitation. Her mini skirt rode up her thighs with each nervous step, but that was the least of her concerns. "Remember, you have to make it real," he reminded her, his voice low and steady.

Sakura's heart pounded wildly in her chest, her breathing shaky. She couldn't speak, the gravity of the moment rendering her mute. Her lips trembled as panic gnawed at her insides.

Kakashi's eyes softened for a brief second, worry etched across his features, though his own panic simmered just beneath the surface. "What are you going to do when you get there? Walk me through it, again," he demanded, more for his own reassurance than hers.

Sakura nodded, searching for the rehearsed words in her head. "You and I had a bad fight... and I just want to have a good time," she recited, her voice small but determined.

Kakashi nodded, approval in his eyes, but there was something else there too—guilt. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry for this," he murmured as he stepped back. Before she could react, his hand lashed out, striking her hard across the face.

Sakura gasped, a sharp cry escaping her lips as pain bloomed around her eye. She felt the sting and swelling almost immediately, her skin burning where his hand had connected. She looked up at him, eyes wide, catching the hurt that flickered in his expression. The guilt was plain on his face, but there was nothing more to be said. They both knew this had to be done.

With trembling hands, Sakura grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the table near the door. She gave him one last nod, steeling herself, and stepped out of the house. Her brisk pace carried her toward Nagato's nightclub, the weight of the mission heavy on her shoulders.

She took long pulls from the bottle, both for courage and to sell the role—a heartbroken, battered woman looking for comfort in the arms of another. When she reached the club, the bouncer recognized her immediately and waved her inside, just like before.

The music inside was deafening, the bass vibrating through her body as she walked down the dim hallway. This time, she didn't bother knocking. Her hand closed around the door knob, and she stepped inside without hesitation.

The room froze the moment she entered. Guns were drawn on her in an instant, but Sakura didn't flinch. She raised the bottle to her lips, tears glistening in her eyes. Her heart hammered, but she kept her expression unreadable.

Nagato's gaze fell on her, a sickening grin spreading across his face as he waved for his men to lower their weapons. "Well, well, if it isn't the little cherry blossom, coming back for more," he said, his voice dripping with twisted amusement.

Sakura took a deep breath, the air burning her lungs as she struggled to maintain control. Nagato closed the distance between them, his fingers brushing her hair away from her face. His eyes darkened when he noticed the swelling around her eye, and he clicked his tongue in mock pity.

"What happened? Did you disobey?" he asked, his lips curling into a smirk that made Sakura's stomach churn. She turned her head away, her gaze dropping to the floor as if ashamed.