Title: Not Just A Wife
Day Six – Prompt: Watch The Queen Conquer
Summary: He never doubted her strength.
Note: Not sure how I feel about this but it happened I guess. I tried posting this earlier but I got distracted by NCT 127... Also, posted on fanfiction.
Ten years had passed since Sasuke went on his mission. Finding cracks in different dimensions always lead to either more cracks or battling the evil. He was a father now and his number one role was to protect is his family. Spending years away from Konoha broke his heart but he knew Sakura understood and prayed that their Sarada would too.
The first week back was rough. Some villagers were still on edge about him, some understood and his contributions to the war; but surrounded by his friends, nothing else mattered. Sasuke had a slight uneasy readjustment to his permanent stay in Konoha. Whenever he came to visit, which was every three years or whenever he could, he only stayed the night or two. It had made Sakura sad, Sasuke too, making their goodbyes emotional. Though, as the first years passed, instead of a goodbye, it was a see you next time.
Early mornings consist Sakura waking up at the crack of dawn, preparing breakfast and waking up Sarada. As Sasuke sits at the table, Sakura seemed to be in her own little world with their daughter. They knew he was there but it had become a ritual. He'd over hear stories about Boruto, Sarada's dreams of being Hokage, and more.
After Sarada leaves to meet her teammates, it was just Sasuke and Sakura. She washes the dishes, he helps puts them away but most of the time, his help wasn't needed. Once the dishes finish, they'd cuddle on the couch or run for some errands.
Sasuke loved going on errands with Sakura. It was either that or being dragged out to Ichiraku to watch Naruto, the Hokage, scarf down ten bowls of ramen. He definitely preferred spending his time with Sakura and plus, he got to pick out the best tomatoes.
Today was rather a beautiful morning. Sarada had left last night for a mission, leaving the two older Uchihas to make love. After, they spent the rest of the day hanging with the remaining Konoha Twelve. The afternoon consisted of drinking and reminiscing about the past. While everyone got into discussions, Sasuke's attention was stolen away from his wife.
Her green eyes still shines bright as the first day he met her. They were only eight and Sasuke didn't care for girls but he noticed. Sakura didn't have to give a certain look; it's the way her eyes and soft face spoke to him. One of the many reasons why he fell in love with her.
When evening came, everyone had left for home or work. Sasuke and Sakura continued their own date, walking happily across Konoha. However their date night was cut short. A nurse ran towards them, asking for Sakura's assistance. There had been an attack and a shinobi had been badly injured. Sakura gave an apologetic look as she began taking off, unnoticed that Sasuke was right behind.
As soon as Sakura got through the doors, she could see what had happened. With a quick change into scrubs, she went to work. The injured had a 60% of living if she didn't work fast enough. His organs were slowly shutting off and the mysterious bleeding had to be fixed fast.
It had been under a year since Sakura was back at the hospital. When Sasuke came back and Sarada had grown up, she devoted her time to them. She loved her work and everyone at the hospital but when it came to family, they came first.
After a quick examination and main source of the problem, the adrenaline finally kicked in. She wasn't stubborn but she was going to do whatever it takes to save his life. Without reading his file, Sakura knew he had parents and teammates worrying.
If Sakura could save an army in the Fourth War, she will save this one.
It took hours but she had finally finished. There was a tired smile on her face as she exited the operating room. The boy's mother came running into Sakura's arms and thanking her over and over. There was nothing but happy tears in the hallway. As a nurse directs them away, Sakura sees Sasuke standing behind them.
As he could close, Sasuke could smell blood and sweat on her but he didn't care. He hugged her anyway. "Uchiha Sakura saved another life," he kissed her forehead. "I'm so proud of you."
Sakura blushed at him. As she wraps her tired arms around is waist, she smiles. "Thank you."
Title: [Watch the Queen Conquer]
Summary: Some thugs bite off more than they can chew when they nab Uchiha Sakura.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in the Naruto-verse are mine, but I love them too much to stop playing with them.
Rating: M
Words: 2886
Completed: 7/1/2016
Warning(s): Extended torture scene--basically a giant gorefest.
Author’s Note: There were so many fantastic options for this prompt. Not super high on the angst factor, but it’s there. ALSO, this was a team-write by my brother (who doesn’t have a tumblr) and I, but I think our writing styles merge pretty well. See what you think.
“You were supposed to capture the Uchiha, not the Uchiha bitch! Now we’ve lost the element of surprise!”
The harsh voice slammed Sakura into awareness, and she had to fight back a groan. Her head felt fuzzy and continued to throb now that she was awake. What the hell had happened? Keeping her eyes closed, she silently took stock of her situation.
A putrid, rotting scent was the first thing she noticed. It filled her nostrils, so overpowering and thick that it was a struggle not to gag. Where was she? The last time she had been confronted with a smell like this was in Kabuto’s workshop, but she had single-handedly demolished every one of those atrocious labs that Sasuke’s intel led them to. Had she missed one? Had Kabuto gone dark-side again? As far as she knew, he was still locked up deep underground in Konoha’s prisons.
As for her physical condition, well, Sakura had endured worse.
The dry, cotton-mouth sensation she was experiencing was unpleasant, but not life-threatening. Combined with the weak, noodly state of her limbs, it also helped her narrow down the list of drugs that could have been used to subdue her. The ligatures securing her hands--which were underneath her back--and her ankles were a more pressing problem. For some reason, but probably the shackles she was in, Sakura was having a difficult time getting her chakra to gather in her hands or feet. Thankfully, she could still circulate it internally, and she took advantage of that fact to quickly rid herself of her remaining headache and purge any last remnants of drugs from her system.
“Shaddup, I’ve been stalking these two for months, and the bastard has never left an opening. This was the first chance I got,” responded a second man. His voice was high and raspy in contrast to the earlier baritone that had assaulted her ears. “Besides, you know he’s going to come straight for us now that we have her.”
Although Sakura was having trouble remembering how exactly she got into this situation, her captors’ conversation and her throbbing head made it fairly easy to figure out; someone must have knocked her out while she was gathering supplies. Bold of them--it wasn’t like she was a low-risk target.
Despite her title as a neo-Sannin and war hero, however, these two thugs hadn’t been after her. Sasuke was their main goal. What they wanted her husband for was unknown. Revenge and his kekkei genkei were always prime motivators, though.
She was just the bait.
Baritone man heaved a sigh, “Whatever. Let’s just make sure we have enough traps set to give us an edge. Uchiha’s gonna be fucking pissed when he gets here.”
“What? You mean we can’t play with her even a little?” The reedy voice whined.
That’s what she was to them? A toy to play with until the main event arrived? White hot-rage boiled to life in her gut, forcing her to clench her hands and teeth to avoid alerting her captors to the fact that she was awake.
It wasn’t that Sakura didn’t think her husband was strong. Practically the entire nation knew that both Sasuke and Naruto were unmatched in strength. Constantly being underestimated and undermined was infuriating, though. No, her chakra reserves weren’t endless, and she didn’t have a kekkei genkei. Still, Sakura was the closest thing Sasuke and Naruto had to peers. She could decimate mountains in one hit, create valleys with a single punch, and take a sword to the gut without flinching--that deserved some damn respect!
“Wellll,” Baritone drawled, bringing Sakura’s attention back to the matter at hand, “I suppose we could play just a little before the other guys get impatient.”
The bolt of electricity hit her so suddenly that she barely had a second to contemplate the coming attack, let alone brace herself for it, so she was powerless to stop the howl of pain that erupted from her throat.
“Well looky here,” the man with the higher voice said. As Sakura’s vision focused she realized it was coming from a man whose limbs were disproportionately longer than the rest of his body. Scars from poorly sealed wounds peaked out from underneath his clothes, and some of the lacerations were visibly infected. Was the smell coming from him?
“Looks like the little princess is awake,” he finished. When the man drew closer, Sakura noticed that more of the scars stretched across his face, giving him the appearance of a poorly cared for patchwork doll.
Rough hands grabbed her by the hair and yanked so that her body folded over itself as she was pulled towards her assailant. She still felt shaky and woozy, but Sakura wrapped her hands over one another so they formed one giant fist and pounded the pressure point on the inside of his elbow. Swearing furiously, the man released her hair and backed up. Usually she would follow that up with a kick to his knee, but with her ankles bound Sakura’s balance was rather compromised.
Before she could snatch a kunai from the pouch at Patchwork’s side, two meaty arms wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her side and hoisting her off the ground. Fuck, she was way outside her weight-class, and this time she didn’t have her chakra to even the playing field. Years of experience were the only thing that kept the panic from taking over, but Sakura would be lying if she said she didn’t feel the seed of desperation that was beginning to grow in her gut.
Hoping to hyperextend his knees, or at least hurt him enough to drop her, she swung her legs back in a fierce kick, but he spread his legs just wide enough that her attack sailed harmlessly past. Double fuck. That little seed of desperation grew as Sakura threw her head backwards into the face of her kidnapper. This time she made contact, felt the sticky touch of his blood that now mingled with her hair, but this man apparently had a higher pain tolerance than his partner. He didn’t drop her, or even curse, but he did tighten his hold on her like a boa-constrictor--squeezing the air from her lungs until she saw stars.
The next Sakura knew, she was being stretched out over your run-of-the-mill torture-table. Blood that soaked into the very essence of the wood. Restraints that were placed at all four corners. Stench of urine, sweat, and bile that only got stronger with every steps towards it. A rugged surface that she just knew would leave splinters in her skin without even having to touch it. And, of course, once these two assholes had her secured to the damn thing, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder to manage a prison break.
Still, in her borderline-unconscious state, there was little Sakura could do. The feeble thrashing she was capable of was more similar to a toddler’s tantrum than any moves an accomplished kunoichi should be dishing out. Not surprisingly, her struggling didn’t phase her kidnappers. Sakura was soon tied down: absolutely defenseless and desperately gasping for breath.
Color began to return to her vision, and with it came a sickening sense of dread. If she couldn’t think of a way out of this mess, she would just have to think of a way to survive until Sasuke arrived. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, but that could just be the combination of vomit and blood coating the back of her tongue.
“Aw, is our little princess counting on her big, strong prince to come and save her?” Patchwork taunted as if he could see inside Sakura’s head. The accusation stung, but she forced herself to stare ahead stoically as they circled like a pair of vultures. They didn’t know anything, Sakura had to remind herself, they were just looking for weaknesses.
“She’s a little old to be a princess, dontcha think?” Baritone said, idly twirling a kunai in a way that Sakura assumed was supposed to be threatening. “Just a dumb, pampered old Queen.”
This only made Patchwork smile more widely.
“Little Queenie,” he crooned, “So scared and useless without her King to back her up.”
He trailed one of his creepy, spider like fingers down her cheekbone, and Sakura couldn’t resist the urge to snap at him, successfully catching the offending appendage between her molars. With a crunch as sickening as it was satisfying, she pulled away--bringing the finger with her.
Her blood-stained victory was short lived though, as Patchwork’s scream of agony gave way to rage. The knuckles that crashed into her face forcibly removed her gruesome trophy. Blinking the static away, Sakura rolled her face forwards with a wolfish grin. The crimson tainting her once-white teeth only made the effect more intimidating.
“That’s ‘fucking little Queenie’ to you, asshole,” Sakura countered. Alternating lances of fire and ice spiked through her jawline, only exasperated by her sarcastic smile, but she didn’t care. They were going to beat her black and blue, she knew, but no one ever said she had to take it lying down.
There was the flash of silver in the dim dungeon light and then a sharp pinch on the ring-finger of her left hand that reverberated through her every nerve. Something was wrong, terribly terribly wrong, but Sakura’s brain was refusing to put the pieces together. A metallic, wet thunk drew her attention. Neither man stopped her from rolling her head to locate the cause of the sound.
On the ground, next to the dusty old jars with questionable contents, glittered the familiar combination of silver and diamond. It was her wedding ring, she realized dully, only now making sense of the intricate, twining patterns. But it was caught on something that dimmed the jewelry’s sparkle with red.
Her finger.
Sakura fought the urge to be sick before her brain kicked into high-gear.
Stem the bleeding! It screamed, giving her something to focus on besides the pain. An amputated finger wouldn’t cause her to bleed out, but Sakura wasn’t overly optimistic that that would be her only flesh wound. The more blood she could retain on the whole, the better.
“Now that’s what I call fast-acting justice,” Patchwork said, letting his finger drip freely onto the ground now. “And that’s all we’re lookin’ for here, innit?”
“With a small side of revenge,” Baritone agreed. His meaty fist targeted the soft flesh just below her ribcage, and Sakura sucked in a breath as it connected. “I’m too bitter ‘bout it all to pretend it’s just justice.”
“Well, in that case…”
The green flicker of light danced across Patchwork’s palm with a beauty almost capable of distracting from the malice in his eyes. As her stomach crawled with anxiety her body followed suit, attempting to distance herself from the arcane voltage as much as possible. He lowered his hands toward her thighs, and as the electricity inched closer her writhing diminished, a sense of hopelessness creeping in.
The pain was immeasurable. While it traveled down her skeletal system instantly, she could feel the path of power that it traced. Her taut back muscles tensed further, and her spine felt bent to the breaking point. Her limbs were engulfed in the blanket of energy, and she doubted she’d ever be able to move them again.
And then the light was gone as immediately as quickly as it had appeared. But its effects lingered. Her skull was somehow both completely numb and alight with an angry buzz. This respite was cut short, only lasting long enough for the sadistic fuck above her to place his hands on her ribs.
There were no thoughts, no words, no plans for escape--only an all-consuming awareness of one thing: absolute torment. Almost instinctively, like a defense mechanism, Sakura’s healing chakra rose of inside her to combat the electric torture. Like a landslide meeting an avalanche the two collided within her. Yet somewhere between the two--between her insides being ripped apart, being broken and reformed within syncopated heartbeats each other--Sakura’s mind was able to find a tenuous foothold.
Thus the night passed on.
“Alright so you can make her squirm,” Baritone finally acknowledged with a bored lilt to his voice, “But I wanna hear her scream.” Was it strange to consider that merciful? To silently praise her captor for relieving the arcs of agony? All Sakura knew was that at the moment she could breathe, and even though her coarse breaths were marred by the scent of her singed flesh, they were sweetest she had ever had.
The hand free of his seemingly endless supply of kunai reached up as if Baritone was about to pat her abused face before he thought better of it. Instead he leaned forward, just out of reach, and trailed her bruised features with a skin-crawling expression--as if he was admiring their handiwork.
“Too bad we’re gonna scar that pretty face of yours,” he taunted, twirling the knife across his fingers once more in the hand farthest from her.
“Couldn’t be much worse than yours, ugly,” she spat through her newly split lip. At this point her talk was almost entirely bravado. Despite healing the internal damage Patchwork’s lightning attacks dealt her at every possible interval, she was a quivering mess. While it was true Sakura had been skewered through the stomach twice, enduring torture like this was on a whole other level.
She was quickly reaching her limit.
And suddenly Baritone was meters away from her; he was fast. Certainly not as fast as Naruto or Sasuke-- or herself, but fast nonetheless.
Kunai sprung from his every pocket and pouch. While his fists had done their deal of damage to her bones, they looked a fair bit deadlier wielding a brutal arsenal of edges and points. Expecting a barrage of blades, she was shocked by his skillful release of only one weapon from his blur of an arm. Most likely due to a lack of accuracy more than a desire for prolonging the fun, the effect was the same.
She had a long night ahead of her.
Blade after kunai after senbon pierced her flesh until Sakura both looked and felt like some sort of morbid pincushion. It was all she could do to remain conscious as Baritone targeted areas designed to cause the maximum amount of pain, while just skirting everywhere that actually carried the risk of killing her. Just as Sakura began to give up hope of ever making it out of this alive, her torturer slipped up.
The senbon that now pinned her wrist to the table sat dangerously close to the chakra shackle that both anchored her hand above her head and prevented her from utilizing her deadly strength. Only centimeters away, really. Baritone and Patchwork both remained oblivious--cackling as the stockier of the two picked his next shot--to Sakura’s newly determined face as she steeled herself for what she had to do.
Before she could psych herself out, or her captors could catch on, Sakura yanked down hard on her impaled wrist. Muscles, veins, and tendons were mended just as quickly as they tore around the tempered steel. Mercifully the trip from the weapon to her bindings was a quick one, and Sakura only had to grit her teeth for a few more seconds before the restraint on her hand came apart.
For the first time since she had woken up in this dungeon, blue chakra flared to life around her fist. Grinning grimly as her captors fell silent, Sakura yanked her wrist upwards through the senbon to freedom. This shook Patchwork and Baritone out of their stupor, and they lunged for her unrestrained hand desperately.
They were too late, though. They were too late to stop her from plucking the chakra-inhibiting manacle from her opposite hand like she was brushing off a particularly annoying cobweb. They were too late to stop Sakura from throwing both her fists back against the table, effectively shattering the thing to useless, splinter-like pieces. They were too late to block the barrage of kunais, senbons, and other blades that befell them, pulled from the very flesh in which they were buried.
They were too late to save themselves.
These cretins had kidnapped, tortured, and insulted her. She had been cast off as a pawn in the mission to exact a twisted form of justice upon her husband. Treated as an afterthought, a side note, a tiny chocolate chip on the towering sundae that was hurting the person Sakura loved most in the world.
No one forgot, as the last standing member of the Uchiha clan, that Sasuke was powerful. Not a soul dared challenge him outright without extensive thought and deliberation. What seemed to slip their mind, however, was that she ruled by his side as the matriarch.
“You took me in a quest to get to the King.” Sakura rolled her neck, delighting in both the refreshing pops in her spine and terrified looks on her captors’ faces. A feral grin split her face. “Now it’s time to watch the Queen conquer.”
