Chapter Text
Sakura had heard tell of a most skilled poison maker. Some said the poisons were so complex that they couldn’t be cured before the target perished. She had taken it as a personal challenge to concoct antidotes for these elaborate poisons. Not at the expense of someone’s life, although her pride had tempted her, but it was enough in knowing that she could do what most could not; which was make a successful antidote at all.
Tsunade was pleased in only the way a teacher can be when they expect exceptional work from their pupil. Sakura grumbled in quiet corners for days after finishing her latest accomplishment, a particularly tricky blend of different chemicals which altered the original compounds so greatly that Sakura feared she wouldn’t be able to win this time around.
Because, yes, she was playing her own little game. A game with two players but only one participant. Sakura sighed.
Since the war was over, this was what she did to keep herself occupied. It was a good way to keep the mind busy and pretend that so many people died, even people she had grown up with. So day in and day out, she sat at her lab bench in the hospital. It wasn’t like she was wasting her time, per se, because the truce with Suna might not hold. With Gaara as Kazekage, though, she seriously doubted there would be bad blood between the two villages in her lifetime.
But to be fair, that poison maker had no business making new poisons. Why was he so busy at his work bench, she wondered, and idly tried to imagine her unwitting competitor. Pale, probably, with how much time he spent toiling away at his mixtures. Tall, likely, since the young men she knew were all reasonably taller than her. Careful fingers, for cutting and measuring ingredients. A steady hand.
The more Sakura thought, the more it sounded like she was daydreaming. Ugh. Gods help her, she needed a change of scenery.
“Sakura,” Tsunade boomed, throwing open the door to the humble laboratory. “You need a change of scenery.”
Sakura was momentarily paralyzed with fear, hoping that Tsunade hadn’t been reading her thoughts this whole time because talk about embarrassing. But then her mentor mentioned something Sakura had completely spaced on: the top medic from Suna would be arriving today. Which meant Sakura would be playing entertainer to the medic’s entourage until her meeting with Tsunade was finished. She briefly eyed the bottle of hydrochloric acid across the room, but decided the death would be too painful and Tsunade wouldn’t let her die anyway.
Resigned to her fate, Sakura tidied up her workbench and with one last longing look, turned the light off behind her. She supposed that there was nothing for her to do in there anyway, what with the latest poison cracked under her mighty brain. She smiled to herself, fluffing some pillows on the sofa in the receiving room of the Hokage tower, and wondered how long it would take the poisons master to mix up something new.
She was mid-daydream – in which the poison master in question was praising her cleverness in a way Tsunade would not – when they arrived. The medic was an elderly woman who appeared to be far, far, past her prime, but pinned Sakura down with her gaze in an instant. The old woman was discerning, all right, and Sakura suppressed a shudder. She refused to be afraid of the elderly.
The medic’s escort was comprised of one young man. She was surprised that the guard had not been heavier, but she supposed it was peaceful now. Supposedly. She didn’t need his heavy sigh after the women departed to tell her he was already bored – it was written all over his face.
“Sasori, was it?” Sakura asked, trying her best to be cordial and polite and all of the things she was not very good at, frankly. The young man glanced sideways at her, sitting on an adjacent chair, but said nothing. Sakura cleared her throat. “What is it that you do? Do you assist Lady Chiyo in the hospital?”
After a beat of silence Sakura almost gave up on getting an answer.
“I dream up different ways to kill people in the most agonizing manner possible. I dwell on which powder is odorless and tasteless to induce the most internal hemorrhaging before the victim knows their body is collapsing from the inside out. And I enjoy my work,” he sneered.
“Oh,” Sakura said brightly without missing a beat. “You’re a poison maker?”
The young man seemed momentarily stunned. No doubt this wasn’t the usual response to his clear scare tactic. Sakura had seen what poisons like this could do first hand, there was no way his graphic descriptions would gross her out at this point.
“I’m a poison master,” Sasori sniffed, disdainful in the way she had clearly hurt his pride.
“Of course you are,” Sakura replied. Because of course he was. And of course he was here, in her presence, and he didn’t even know about her secret little game she had been playing with him when he was a shadowy figure in her mind. She wasn’t sure if she liked the dispelling of the illusion, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sasori had now turned his full attention to her now. His eyes narrowed mistrustfully, arms crossed loosely across his torso.
“I don’t think someone who is so serious about their craft would be anything less than a master, don’t you think?” Sakura asked, trying not to give away that she knew more about his work than probably anyone else. “I, myself, work in the hospital. I was a medic in the war.” Both of which were technically not lies, just not the entire truth.
“A ninja medic?” he scoffed. “How old are you? Fourteen?”
Sakura felt her patience wearing thin, but she vowed to keep it together.
“Nineteen, actually.” She swore to the gods if this was a setup for a joke about how small her boobs were, she was gonna—
“Ah, well, your face is still very youthful despite your hardships. I have seen the war age people ten years.” Sasori was no longer looking at her, but something far away in his mind’s eye.
Sakura studied him briefly as he was lost in his own thoughts. She knew he was of the same age as herself, or close to it, but he was a prodigy of Suna. His face did not show the wear of the war either, but there was something in his eyes that was probably not there before it either.
“Life and death,” he said abruptly. “Those are the two things that are certain for ninja.” He looked at her seriously for the first time. “Just as I craft poisons to induce death, someone in this hospital insists on preparing antidotes to restore life.”
Sakura thought the jig was up, he knew, and now he was going to confront her about it. Before she could panic and spill the beans, though, he spoke again.
“Do you know who this medic is? Who keeps making these blasted things?” He asked, pulling out a vial she had bottled herself last week. She blinked in surprise. Was it cool that he was carrying around her antidote or nah, she shouldn’t read too much into it?
“Employee information is confidential, as I’m sure you can imagine. Legal stuff.” She parried. “But I could take you to the lab where all the magic happens? Maybe they’ll be there?” She added. Also not technically a lie, if she were to accompany him. He nodded.
“Yes, please, I’d be interested in a tour of the facilities here.”
It was all Sakura could do to keep in her laughter.