Chapter Text
mindless chatter edges around her ears, a dazed hum beneath the weight of fatigue that coils around her bones. sakura can't hear it. not really. everything is noise lately, an itchy static.
fourteen-hour shifts, tsunade-sama barking orders, charts stacked to the ceiling. patients groaning, dying, recovering—a blur of a sterilized cycle.
and shizune-senpai just had to go on maternity leave.
"welcome. what can we get you today?"
the voice drags her back. she blinks, focus wavering before latching onto the barista. her jaded eyes meet the redhead's mirroring gaze.
"black coffee. double shot espresso, please."
she types it in, already knowing what her order is. she looks up at her, one brow raised. the kind of look like, "you again?"
sakura musters up an awkward, stiff smile out of habit. this is her sixth day in a row, ordering the same drink. she's starting to hate the sight of the place.
she hates coffee.
she hates the smell, reminding her of these days. she hates the thick bitter coat it leaves on her tongue. she even hates the people who drink it. the overly caffeinated optimism, the false productivity in every cup.
her eyes roam the bustling café and she grimaced.
she slumps into a plastic seat staring absently at the ceiling, muscles aching, and mind aching. overhead, a flickering fluorescent bulb buzzes sporadically like it, too, is on the verge of collapse.
her career is soaring. tsunade-sama finally trusts her with real authority. her salary's enough to afford overly priced mid coffee. she has respect and status.
and yet she wakes up everyday with a yawning emptiness that no amount of accolades can touch.
there's something feral in her chest that no one sees. a hunger that's quiet but monstrous that gnaws at her no matter how much she feeds it. the ache never lessens, it just shifts. it relocates and infects her dreams.
she's always been driven, obsessively so. it's what kept her alive in a world that would've chewed her up otherwise. she's always pushed forward, one thing after the next.
but when she's alone and the noise fades, the stillness creeps in and she's left with the echo of her own longing.
always lingering, lurking right beneath the surface.
that part of her, the hopeless romantic, refuses to die. no matter how hard she beats it down with exhaustion, no matter how many empty nights she fills with paperwork and bitter drinks, it claws its way back, again and again.
she wants love like a wound wants stitching and she loathes herself for it. she's soft in a world of steel. she dreams of something tender when all she knows is sharp edges. she wishes she could tear the need out by the root.
she thinks of tsunade, strong, stoic, legendary, and how love had completely undone her. how it left her with scars deeper than war ever could, fractured by love's betrayal.
her thoughts drift uninvited to shisui.
"come on, just one date, saku-chan!~" he'd grin, voice teasing and playful, but she knows him all too well.
his fingers draped lazily over her shoulder and she brushed him off. "sorry, shisui. i'm busy."
"you're always busy," he murmured, leaning in a little too close. "y'know it's healthy to relieve stress off the body."
her muscles tense at the proximity, but she simply rolls her eyes. "yes, it is. so leave me alone. you're giving me a migraine."
he clutched his chest with a dramatic grasp. "and they say i'm the heartbreaker."
shisui is perfect on paper. he's sinfully handsome and charming, everything a girl could want.
but he's not the one.
she wants to be adored, not flirted with. she wants to be the center of his world, not a late-night afterthought. she wants devotion.
"haruno-san."
the monotone voice cuts through the fog like a slap.
sakura blinks back into the moment and grabs the coffee, muttering a tired, automatic thanks and shuffles out the door.
the drink burns her tongue.
it tastes like ash, bitter and charred. it's disgusting, but she swallows it anyway. it's not meant for enjoyment, it's just what her survival looks like, just to get through the next few hours.
she rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm, exhaustion weighing her down. her legs feel like jello and her head is in a throbbing haze. she's not even sure if she'll make it to the hospital without collapsing on the curb.
her phone rings, the sound shrill and out of place in the quiet despair of morning. she glances at the screen.
"sakura-chan! what're ya up to?"
"heading to work."
"huh?! but today's your day off!"
"got called in to help tsunade-sama organize some more paperwork."
"WHAT! tell that old BAG 'day off' means day off! you should be in bed catching up on you're beauty sleep! at this rate you'll turn into a shriveled old hag like her!"
sakura rolls her eyes, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "it's just a few hours, naruto. i'll survive."
there's a long pause on the line.
"you're working too much, y'know." his voice low. then more like himself. "you're killing me sakura-chan! we haven't hung out in years. you're practically a ghost now."
she lets the smile linger, even if it didn't reach her eyes. "i saw you three days ago."
"a millennia, woman. i've been dying in isolation, eating my ramen all alone like a widower."
she bites back a yawn, amused despite herself. "things should calm down soon. we got some sunshine interns coming in."
"ugh, finally. maybe now you'll be able to breathe like a normal person. anyway, lemme know when you get off. bastard and i are gonna go watch kakashi-sensei fight tonight. you think you'll make it?"
her step falters.
right. the fight.
she'd forgotten and the worst part is she does want to go. kakashi hardly ever steps back into the ring anymore, but the thought of getting redressed and leaving the house again after another shift, it's just too much. her bed is already whispering to her, promising warmth and peace.
"...maybe," she murmurs.
"maybe? this is the fight of the century sakura-chan!"
she slows to a stop outside the hospital, her gaze catching the medic symbols etched into the glass. they blur under the weight of her stare. "i'll let you know later," she says quietly. "i gotta go."
"tell that old bag to kiss my ass!"
she ends the call, a smile on her lips. naruto always finds a way to make her happy, even though she feels like she's cracking.
all she wants right now is to collapse in the dark and forget she exists for a little while.
by the time she makes it to tsunade's office, the fluorescent lights have made her skull throb. the moment she sees her boss's desk, her breath catches.
it's not a desk, it's a disaster.
a haphazard mountain of papers teetering precariously in every direction, not a single inch of wood surface is visible. files, folders, envelopes, and receipts, it's chaos incarnate.
she stares, eyes wide. "what's all this?" her voice a mix of disbelief and dread.
tsunade leans back in her chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other lifting a half empty flask that catches the light with an oily glint. she takes a long swing.
"welcome to hell," she says dryly. "step right in."
sakura sinks into the chair across from her, limbs heavy and heart heavier. she scans the pile with exasperation as she picks up a hefty stack.
"nothing's organized. receipts, letters from the board, insurance bullshit, board meeting minutes— it's all here."
tsunade groans rubbing her forehead. "shizune couldn't have picked a better time to get knocked up and bail."
sakura doesn't flinch. she knows the sting in tsuande's words are just frustration.
the hospital's been understaffed for weeks, and shizune's maternity leave came at the worst time. still, sakura understands tsuande's irritated muttering all too well.
"i'm sorry to call you in," tsuande's mumbles. "you've been working nonstop. and by the look of thar godawful coffee and those bags under your eyes, you're probably operating on fumes."
sakura shrugs, sorting papers into piles. "it's fine, shishou."
tsunade grunts, and after another swig and another curse to genma's dick, she starts getting to work too.
the fall into a familiar rhythm, a quiet sorting, the occasional shuffle of papers, the sighs of two women past the point of burnout. the only sounds are clink of the flask, the scrape of files, and the low hum of hospital machinery through the thin walls.
the coffee sustains her for about two hours. after that, the crash hits hard.
it's dark when she finally steps out. the sun has long since slipped beneath the skyline and the city has taken on a half-lit look.
the desk had emerged from the sea of chaos and tsunade had waved her off to leave. she didn't hesitate.
now, standing at the hospital entrance, her eyes sting and her limbs buzz. her whole body feels like static.
she checks the time on her phone, three missed calls from naruto, one from sasuke.
she presses redial without thinking dragging her feet home.
"sakura-chan! did ya just get off?"
he's too loud. "mhm," she hums softly, words feeling too heavy in her mouth.
"yahoo! are you coming to the fight? i can swing by and pick you up!"
she stumbles down the sidewalk yawning, her legs numb. "i don't think i can," she mutters, barely above a whisper. "i'm going home to rot in my bed until tomorrow."
a beat of silence falls on the line.
"man... that sucks. are you safe walking home? you sound wiped."
she close her eyes for a moment, just long enough to imagine her bed. "i'm fine, naruto." she lies, voice detached. she feels likes she floating. "don't worry, naruto. kakashi-sensei will win."
"huh? we're talking about you!"
she hums vaguely in response, already drifting mentally. her eyes lift, gaze catching in a familiar storefront.
the coffee shop.
"text me when you get home so i know you made it, yeah? if you don't answer in an hour i'm gonna look for you and call the police and file a missing person report."
she should get another cup.
"goodnight, naruto."
"sakura-chan, wait-"
the door chimes softly as she steps inside. the shop feels barren compared to the morning rush she's used to.
she notices a new barista standing behind the counter and orders who usual cup of repugnant brew without even thinking.
her corner is empty and she sinks into it like muscle memory. the overhead light continues to flicker between dull and dim.
her mind drifts in and out, the weight of the day sinking into her bones. she stares at the table, steam curling up from her cup.
around her, the world continues. the soft clinks of cups, the low hums of conversations, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine— it all feels distant, like she's watching it unfold behind glass.
she takes a sip, the taste only further reminding her of everything she can't escape. but she drinks it anyway.
but then something shifts.
it's subtle at first, like a cold breeze brushing the nape of her neck. she glances up, and freezes.
across from her, a man sits, watching and staring. his presence was sharp and unsettling.
their eyes meet and he doesn't blink.
his gaze pins her in place, unflinching and clinical. she doesn't know if he was there this whole time, or if just now appeared, but he's real. she blinks once, twice— he's still there.
her body registers something before her mind can and a tightness constricts in her chest. she had the urge to move, but is too tired to even do that. so she watched him watch her.
the silence stretches until it warps.
and then he moves.
the scrape of his chair cuts through the muffled ambience like a knife. he shifts to her table and sits down without a word.
sakura rubs at her eyes, exhausted enough to question what's real. but when her mind focused, he was still there.
"uh... sorry?" she murmurs, voice hoarse. she doesn't know why she's apologizing.
and he doesn't respond. his gaze keeps steady on her, and then, he slowly reaches into his coat and sets a crisp business card down between them.
her brow furrows. she glances at it, then back to him.
the coffee shop reasserts itself, and the sound of machines humming and people talking pulls her out of his strange gravity.
"call me when you're well rested," he says.
his voice is low and smooth, much like his eerie aura.
"my name is sasori. i'd like us to meet again."
she blinks, struggling to string thoughts together. her mind kept skipping like a scratched disc. have they met before?
she drifts her gaze down to the card.
"give me your number," he adds. "you won't remember this conversation clearly. not in your state."
she hesitates. is this man asking her out? his phone is put into her hands, and without hesitation, her fingers move, typing out her number. he taps the screen and her phone buzzes quietly against the table.
"i'll call you later."
his eyes stay on her a moment longer, searching or maybe just observing. she can't tell.
she doesn't respond to him, rather, watches him as he stands and walks away, a smirk faint on his lips.
he leaves like a dream she doesn't fully understand. her fingers twitch against porcelain.
she needs more coffee.