Chapter Text
Kisame had called Itachi a fool more than once, but never to his face. The Uchiha had many strengths: tactical brilliance, devastating jutsu, an unreadable mask of composure. But when it came to his little brother, Itachi Uchiha was an absolute idiot.
"I should observe the chunin exams," Itachi had said in that flat tone he used when his mind was already made up. "To assess his progress."
"You should stay hidden," Kisame had countered. "The moment something goes wrong, you'll blow our cover wider than one of Deidara's explosions."
Itachi's silence had been telling.
So here Kisame was, disguised as a Kusa genin with a henge that made his skin crawl, watching the brats stumble through the Forest of Death like wounded prey. It should have been boring. It should have been beneath him. But Itachi had asked, in his own wordless way, and foolish though it was, Kisame understood loyalty. Even if said sibling was an pesky Uchiha brat who probably didn't deserve it.
He'd been tracking Team Seven for two hours, making sure nothing too deadly found them before they found the scroll they needed, when the pink-haired girl suddenly stopped walking.
"We're being followed," she said quietly.
Kisame went still. The Uchiha brat hadn't noticed. The Uzumaki kid was still chattering about eating ramen. But the girl—the one who'd been dismissed as dead weight in the academy reports he'd skimmed—had somehow sensed him.
"Sakura, there's nobody—" the Uchiha started.
"No." Her voice was sharper now. She turned slowly, scanning the trees. For just a moment, her eyes passed over his position. Bright green, focused eyes that seemed to see more than they should. "Someone's watching us. Someone dangerous."
Her teammates stopped then, hands moving toward weapons. Kisame watched with new interest as the girl, Sakura, positioned herself slightly in front of the Uchiha boy. Protecting him. Brave little thing, even if the instinct was wasted on that particular teammate.
"We should move," she said. "Now. Don't engage, just move."
"But—"
"Now, Naruto. It could be someone like Orochimaru."
There was steel in her voice, a survival instinct that had kicked into high gear. She was scared—he could smell the adrenaline from here—but she was thinking. Assessing. Making the smart call that would keep her team alive.
Kisame found himself... intrigued.
He followed them for another hour, careful to stay just at the edge of her awareness. Every so often, she'd glance back, those green eyes searching the shadows. She never relaxed. Never let her guard down. Even when they found another team to fight, she kept one eye on the forest behind them.
Smart girl.
When they finally found their scroll and headed toward the tower, Kisame let them go. His job was done. The Uchiha brat was alive and unharmed, if completely oblivious to the fact that his older brother had sent a S-rank shinobi to babysit him.
As he dropped his henge and headed back toward the village outskirts, Kisame found himself thinking about sharp green eyes and good instincts.
The little genin had noticed him when her teammates hadn't.
Interesting.
Two years later, Kisame saw her again.
He and Itachi had come to Konoha on Akatsuki business. Real business this time, not Itachi's ridiculous brotherly hovering. They'd infiltrated the village to gather intelligence on the Kyuubi jinchuriki. Kisame had been looking forward to a potential fight.
What he hadn't expected was to find the pink-haired girl standing in their path.
She'd grown. Not much in height, but in presence. Her hair was longer, her stance more confident. She wore a medical corps uniform now, but her hands were clenched into fists that spoke of power beyond healing.
"You," she said. Her eyes were sharper than he remembered. Knowing. "I know you."
Itachi had already activated his Sharingan, but Kisame raised a hand. "Wait."
"You know this child?" Itachi asked flatly.
"We've met. Sort of." Kisame studied her with open curiosity. "You've gotten stronger, little medic."
"And you've dropped the henge." Sakura's eyes flickered between them, calculating odds, escape routes. Still smart. "Akatsuki. You're here for Naruto."
"Sharp as ever," Kisame said, and meant it.
"You're not taking him."
It should have been funny. One lone girl facing down two S-rank criminals without backup. But she didn't look scared. Wary, yes. Calculating, absolutely. But not scared.
"We could kill you before you screamed," Kisame pointed out conversationally.
"You could try." Her fists glowed green, then pink, then something deeper—chakra so concentrated it made the air shimmer. "But I'm not the girl from the Forest of Death anymore. And I will slow you down long enough for backup to arrive."
She would, Kisame realized. She wouldn't win—couldn't win—but she'd make enough noise, cause enough damage, that their mission would be compromised. And she knew it. This was a calculated sacrifice play.
Brave and smart.
"Kisame," Itachi said warningly.
"I know, I know." Kisame took a step back, hands raised in mock surrender. "We're leaving. Consider this your lucky day, little medic."
"My name is Sakura," she said sharply. "Haruno Sakura. You should remember it."
As they retreated into the shadows, Kisame found himself grinning behind his collar. Oh, he'd remember. The little pink-haired genin had become something far more interesting.
Behind him, Itachi said quietly, "You should have let me end her."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Itachi was silent for a long moment. "You're becoming sentimental."
Maybe. Kisame couldn't help glancing back one more time at the girl who'd stood her ground against impossible odds, just to buy her teammate time.
The little medic had claws now.
The third time, she found him.
Kisame had been injured in a fight with the Hachibi jinchuriki. Not badly, but enough that he needed time to recover before returning to the base. He'd holed up in an abandoned outpost near the border of Fire Country, planning to lay low for a day or two.
He hadn't expected her to walk through the door.
"You're bleeding on my medical supplies," Sakura said flatly, arms crossed over her chest.
Kisame blinked. The girl—woman now, he corrected himself—stood in the doorway wearing a travelling cloak and an expression of profound annoyance. She'd grown into herself in the year since their last meeting. Stronger. More dangerous. And apparently tracking him like he was the prey now.
"Your supplies?" he asked.
"I use this place as a supply cache when I'm on long-range missions." She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, either very brave or very stupid. "You're sitting on six months' worth of soldier pills and antidotes."
"Ah." Kisame shifted slightly, noting the way she tracked the movement. Still wary. Still smart. "Sorry."
"No you're not." She moved closer. He caught the scent of antiseptic and something floral. "Let me see the wound."
"I'm fine."
"You're leaking blood all over my floor. Let me see it, or get out."
There was that steel again, the absolute confidence that she could enforce her will despite the fact that he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and could kill her six different ways without standing up.
Against his better judgment, Kisame found himself pulling aside his cloak to reveal the gash across his ribs. "Happy?"
Sakura's expression shifted immediately into professional assessment. She knelt beside him, hands already glowing green. "Puncture wound, possible internal bleeding. What hit you?"
"Bijuu-enhanced sword strike."
"Of course it was." Her chakra flowed over the wound, warm and surprisingly gentle. "You Akatsuki have a death wish."
"Says the woman healing one."
"I'm a medic. It's literally my job." Her lips quirked slightly. "Even if you are a wanted criminal who keeps trying to kidnap my best friend."
Kisame watched her work, fascinated despite himself. Her control was exceptional with its surgical precision that knitted torn muscle and sealed damaged blood vessels with barely a whisper of wasted energy. This wasn't the scared genin from the Forest of Death or even the determined chunin who'd faced him down in Konoha.
This was a master medic in her element.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked after a moment.
Sakura didn't look up. "Because watching you bleed out in my supply cache would be inconvenient. I'd have to clean it up."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the one you're getting." She sat back, the glow fading from her hands. "There. Try not to fight any more jinchuriki for at least a week."
Kisame flexed experimentally. The pain was gone, the wound sealed perfectly. "You're wasted in Konoha."
"I'm exactly where I want to be." Sakura stood, brushing off her knees. "Now get out. If you tell anyone about this cache, I'll hunt you down and remove your ability to heal at all. Permanently."
She meant it. Kisame could see it in the set of her jaw, the cold promise in those green eyes.
Absolutely fascinating.
As he gathered his things and headed for the door, he paused. "Why do I feel like you're the one hunting me now, little medic?"
Sakura's smile was sharp and knowing. "Because I am. I've been tracking your movements for six months. This wasn't a coincidence; you always come through this route after jobs in Lightning Country. I knew you'd end up here eventually."
Kisame stared at her. "You set a trap."
"I established a pattern. You walked into it." She tilted her head. "See you in a few months, Kisame. Try not to get yourself killed before then."
As he left, Kisame found himself grinning behind his collar. The little medic wasn't circling him anymore.
She'd started hunting him instead.
And damn if that wasn't the most interesting thing to happen to him in years.
Their fourth meeting was his fault.
Kisame could have taken any number of routes back to base after the mission in Rice Country. He could have avoided Fire Country entirely. Instead, he found himself drifting toward that border outpost, telling himself he just needed to check if his wound had healed properly.
It was a lie, and he knew it.
Sakura was there, reorganizing her supply cache with meticulous care. She didn't even look surprised when he appeared in the doorway.
"Back already?" she asked mildly. "I didn't expect you for another two months."
"The last job finished early."
"Mm." She set down a box of bandages and finally turned to face him. "And you just happened to be passing through?"
Kisame said nothing. What could he say? That he'd been thinking about sharp green eyes and sharper instincts? That he'd found himself wondering what she was doing, whether she'd been on any dangerous missions, whether she still watched the shadows for threats her teammates couldn't see?
That somewhere between their first meeting and now, she'd become more interesting than any hunt?
"You're staring," Sakura observed.
"You're worth staring at."
The words surprised them both. Sakura's eyes widened fractionally before her expression shifted into something complicated, wariness mixed with curiosity mixed with something that might have been pleasure.
"That's dangerous territory," she said quietly.
"I'm aware."
"I'm Konoha. You're Akatsuki. We're enemies."
"Also aware."
"And yet you keep showing up." She moved closer, studying his face with the same intensity she'd used to assess his wound. "Why?"
Kisame should have had an answer. He should have deflected or lied or made some joke about just liking her medical skills. Instead, he found himself saying, "You noticed me when no one else did. In that forest, you knew I was dangerous before your genin teammates had a clue. And you've kept noticing me ever since."
"So this is about ego?"
"No." He caught her wrist gently when she reached up to check his healed wound—not restraining, just holding. Her pulse jumped under his fingers. "This is about the fact that you're the first person in a long time who's looked at me and continued to search for me."
Sakura's breath hitched. "I'm still seeing a criminal."
"But not just a criminal."
She should have pulled away. Should have called him out on the insanity of whatever this was becoming. Instead, she let her fingers rest against his chest, right over his heart.
"It's racing," she said softly. "Your heart. Every time I get close, it races wildly."
Of course, she would notice that.
"You're the medic," Kisame managed. "What's your professional diagnosis?"
Sakura's smile was small and dangerous and absolutely devastating. "That you're in trouble, Kisame. The kind that doesn't heal."
"And what about you?" He covered her hand with his, holding it against his pounding heart. "Your pulse isn't exactly steady either."
"Then we're both in trouble." She didn't pull away. "This is insane."
"Completely."
"It can't work."
"Probably not."
"And yet..." She looked up at him. Kisame saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. The same recognition that something had shifted, that somewhere between hunter and hunted, enemy and enemy, they'd become something else entirely.
"And yet," he agreed quietly.
They stood there in that abandoned outpost, two people on opposite sides of a war, with a connection that made no sense and probably never would.
When Kisame finally left that night, it was with the knowledge that he was no longer the one doing the circling.
The little medic had caught him without him even noticing.
And the truly terrifying part? He didn't want to escape.
The rain fell in sheets across the Water Country coastline, turning the world grey and formless. Kisame liked the rain. It reminded him of home, of the weight of water and the comfort of being unseen. He'd been coming to this particular stretch of beach for three months now, always under the guise of reconnaissance missions that were growing increasingly unnecessary.
He told himself he was being strategic. Establishing patterns, maintaining intelligence networks, keeping tabs on Konoha's movements.
All lies, and he knew it.
Sakura appeared from the treeline right on schedule, her chakra signature as familiar to him now as his own. She'd learned to mask it better over the past year—another skill she'd sharpened in their strange dance—but she always let it flare just slightly when she was close. A signal that she was here, that she'd found him again.
"You're predictable," she said by way of greeting, settling onto the rock beside him without hesitation. When had she stopped being cautious around him? When had he stopped being a threat and become... this?
"You're one to talk. Same travel route every time."
"That's intentional." She bumped her shoulder against his arm—an easy, familiar gesture that shouldn't have made his chest tighten. "If I wanted to be unpredictable, you'd never find me."
"Confident."
"Truthful." Sakura pulled out a container of dango from her pack and offered him one. Another new development—she'd started bringing food to their meetings, as if they were friends instead of enemies playing at something neither of them had named yet. "I've been working with ANBU tracking units. I could disappear if I wanted to."
Kisame accepted the dango, letting their fingers brush. "But you don't want to."
"No," she admitted quietly. There was something vulnerable in her voice that made his heart skip. "I don't. Even though I should. Even though this is—"
"Insane?"
"I was going to say complicated."
"That too." He watched her profile: the determined set of her jaw, the way she worried, biting her bottom lip when she was thinking too hard. She'd cut her hair shorter recently, a practical shoulder-length style that somehow made her look both younger and older at once. "Your team doesn't know you're here."
It wasn't a question. Sakura had gotten better at sneaking away, at crafting believable excuses for her absences. He'd watched her grow from a medic into something more. ANBU-trained, Tsunade's apprentice, a woman who could shatter mountains and piece together broken bodies with equal skill.
Somehow, impossibly, she'd chosen to spend her rare free time sitting on a rainy beach with a criminal.
"Naruto would lose his mind," she said with a slight smile. "He talks about finding you guys and bringing you to justice. If he knew I was..." She trailed off, the smile fading. "What am I doing, Kisame?"
"Meeting with an Akatsuki member who's probably compromised every security protocol you have."
"Be serious."
He turned to face her fully. "I am being serious. You've told me things about Konoha's defenses, about mission schedules, about personnel movements. Not directly, but I can read between the lines. If I wanted to, I could use that information to hurt your village."
Sakura met his eyes steadily. "But you won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you would have already." She shifted closer, close enough that he could feel her warmth even through the rain. "You've had dozens of opportunities. You know when I'm away, which means you know when my team is vulnerable. You know where I store supplies, which routes I travel. If you wanted to use me, you would have by now."
"Maybe I'm just patient."
"Maybe." Her hand found his, fingers threading together like it was natural. When had that become natural? "Or maybe you're as trapped in this as I am."
Trapped. Yes, that was exactly what this felt like. Like he'd stepped into a snare without noticing, and by the time he'd realized what was happening, he was already caught. The little medic who'd noticed him in that forest had grown into a woman who saw him—not the monster, not the weapon, but something more complicated.
Something human.
"What are we doing?" he asked quietly.
Sakura was silent for a long moment, watching the rain fall into the ocean. "I think..." she started, then stopped. Tried again. "I think I'm falling for someone I shouldn't. Someone dangerous and impossible and completely wrong for me."
Kisame's heart hammered against his ribs. "And?"
"And I don't know how to stop. Don't know if I want to stop." She squeezed his hand. "Tell me you feel it too. Tell me I'm not alone in this insanity."
He should lie and push her away for her own good. He should remind her that he was Akatsuki, he'd killed dozens of people just like her, that this could never work.
Instead he pulled her closer, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and felt her melt against his side like she belonged there.
"You're not alone," he said into her hair. "I'm in this with you. Whatever this is."
They sat like that until the rain stopped, two people from opposite sides of a war, stealing moments that could get them both killed.
When Sakura finally left, she kissed his cheek—quick and soft and devastating.
"Same time next month?" she asked.
"Wouldn't miss it."
As he watched her disappear into the trees, Kisame realized that somewhere along the way, she'd stopped being interesting and started being essential.
He was so fucked.
"You're compromised."
Kisame didn't look up from sharpening Samehada. Itachi stood in the doorway of their shared quarters, Sharingan deactivated but his expression more readable than usual. Which meant he was actually angry.
"I'm fine."
"You've been taking unnecessary detours. Missing check-ins. Your focus during missions has declined." Itachi stepped inside, closing the door behind him with deliberate care. "I've traced your movements. You keep returning to the same locations. The same... person."
Ah. So Itachi had finally put it together.
"Spying on your partner now?" Kisame asked mildly.
"Ensuring you're not putting our organization at risk." Itachi's voice was flat, but there was an edge to it. "The Haruno girl. You've been meeting with her."
"Occasionally."
"Regularly. Predictably. For months." Itachi moved closer, and Kisame could feel the weight of his stare. "End it. Whatever this is, it needs to stop."
"Why?" Kisame finally looked up, meeting his partner's eyes. "She's not a threat to Akatsuki."
"She's Konoha ANBU-trained. She's Tsunade's apprentice. She's close to the Kyuubi jinchuriki." Itachi's voice went quieter, more dangerous. "And she's on Sasuke's team. She could be using you to get close to me, to find information about my brother."
The accusation hung in the air between them.
Then Kisame started laughing.
"What's funny?" Itachi demanded.
"You." Kisame set down his sword, still chuckling. "Itachi, the world doesn't revolve around your little brother."
The temperature in the room dropped. Itachi's expression didn't change, but something in his posture went rigid. "Explain."
"Sakura isn't using me to get to you. She's not asking about Sasuke. She's not gathering intelligence." Kisame stood, crossing his arms. "She's just... there. And I'm there. Neither of us can seem to stop."
"That's even worse." Itachi's frown deepened—the most emotion Kisame had seen from him in years. "You're emotionally compromised. She's making you sloppy. Distracted. This will get you killed."
"Maybe."
"And you don't care?"
Kisame thought about green eyes and sharp smiles. About hands that could heal and destroy with equal skill. Someone who saw through his bullshit and called him on it, who sat with him in the rain like he wasn't a monster, who made his heart race just by existing.
"I care," he said quietly. "Just not enough to stop."
Itachi was silent for a long moment, studying him with an intensity that would have made most people crumble. Finally, he said, "She will betray you. Everyone does, eventually."
"Is that what you tell yourself about Sasuke?"
Itachi's jaw clenched. For the first time in their partnership, Kisame thought he might have actually upset the prodigy. Pushed too far. Found the one wound that never quite healed.
"That's different," Itachi said coldly.
"Is it? You're compromised by your brother. I'm compromised by a kunoichi who's somehow gotten under my skin. We're both fools, Itachi. The only difference is I'm honest about it."
"The difference," Itachi said with dangerous precision, "is that my attachment serves a purpose. Yours will only get you killed."
"Then let me die happy."
"Kisame—"
"No." Kisame picked up Samehada, feeling the sword's hungry approval. "I've followed your lead on everything else. The missions, the lies, the endless patience with your ridiculous Sasuke obsession. But this? This is mine. You don't get to tell me how to handle it."
Itachi stared at him for a long moment. Kisame could practically see him calculating odds, analyzing outcomes, trying to determine if this was worth escalating into a real conflict.
Finally, the Uchiha looked away. "If she becomes a liability to the organization, I will eliminate her myself."
"If she becomes a liability, I'll handle it."
"Will you?" Itachi's eyes found his again. There was something almost sad in them. "Or will you hesitate, and get us both killed?"
Kisame didn't have an answer for that.
After Itachi left, he sat in the darkness and thought about a pink-haired medic who'd caught his heart without him noticing. She made him feel alive in a way missions never had. He'd started measuring time by their meetings instead of by jobs completed.
Itachi was right. He was compromised.
But when he thought about Sakura's laugh, the way she leaned against him like she trusted him despite everything, about the warmth in her eyes when she looked at him... He found he didn't care.
The little medic had stolen his heart. Unlike every other prey he'd ever hunted, he had no interest in taking it back.
Two weeks after Itachi's confrontation, Kisame found himself in Wave Country, ostensibly tracking rumors about the Sanbi. In reality, he was standing outside a small inn where Sakura was staying during a diplomatic mission.
This was getting pathological.
He should leave, maintain distance like Itachi had advised. He should be the professional, emotionless weapon he'd always been.
Instead, he knocked on her window.
Sakura opened it immediately, unsurprised. "You're early."
"Finished my job way ahead of schedule."
"Liar." She was smiling as she pulled him inside. "You came looking for me."
There was no point denying it anymore. "Yes."
Something shifted in her expression—surprise, pleasure, and a heat that made his breath catch. "Kisame..."
"I know. It's stupid. It's dangerous. It's—"
She kissed him.
It wasn't like the soft peck on the cheek from before. This was real, fierce, full of all the want and frustration and impossible feelings they'd been dancing around for months. Her hands fisted in his cloak, pulling him closer. Kisame found himself responding with a hunger that should have terrified him.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Sakura rested her forehead against his chest.
"We can't keep pretending this is nothing," she whispered.
"No," he agreed, his hands finding her waist. "We really can't."
"So what is it? What are we doing?"
Kisame thought about Itachi's warnings, about loyalty and duty and all the reasons this was doomed. Then he thought about how right it felt to hold her, how natural it was to seek her out, how his heart had stopped feeling like a useless organ and started feeling like something vital every time she was near.
"We're falling," he said quietly. "Both of us. I don't think either of us knows how to stop."
Sakura looked up at him, her eyes bright with emotions he couldn't name. "My heart won't cool down. Every time I think I've got this under control, I see you again and I just... burn."
"I know the feeling."
"This is going to end badly." But she was already pulling him toward her again. "We're on opposite sides. Eventually, we'll have to choose."
"I know."
"I don't know what I'll do when that happens." Her voice cracked slightly. "Because I think about it hundreds of times—what I should do, what I'm supposed to do. Every time, the answer is still you."
Kisame's heart clenched. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away her tears he hadn't realized were falling. "Then we're both doomed. Because you're my answer too."
They kissed again, slower this time, with a desperation that spoke of borrowed time and impossible choices. When Sakura pulled him toward the bed, Kisame followed without hesitation. If he was going to fall, he'd rather do it with her than stand alone in the cold.
Later, as she slept curled naked against his side, Kisame stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out when exactly she'd tamed his lion heart.
The answer didn't matter.
She had him now, completely and utterly. He'd never felt more alive.