Chapter Text
[. . .]
"But baby don't abuse me."
[. . .]
Chapter 1
Hug Me.
[. . .]
17-year-old Haruno Sakura wakes up in a pile of bodies.
The immediate metallic scent of rot burns her nose and the accompanied, squelching sounds of shoes on organs she's familiar with grate her ears. The disturbances cause a bedeviling sense of eerie prognostication, smothering her intuition with danger. She shivers, then gags when the rancid taste of the dead swathes her mouth. She follows through with her prompt lungful despite the vile protest of it, seeking to relieve herself of the suffocating air that she's sure is endeavoring to swallow her whole.
Get out, her mind pleads. Get out.
She feels wet and dirty, and it's so unbearable that she forcibly opens her eyes to a brief darkness that looks like a mix of vomit green, red, and off-brown, desperate to get the fuck out of wherever she is.
She squints through what looks like guts and torn limbs, repulsed, but her vision doesn't clear any further than that. There's an awful scorching on her arms, and her chakra output feels dreadfully dry. Her seal is nearly empty.
Her arms reach to get out of wherever she is anyway.
Aching, she pushes against the weights and her body's pain, bones creaking as she unravels free of the corpse entrapment with a hissing grunt. The darkness reveals itself as a shadowed, rusted ceiling barely touching light, worn but soft in its glow. Like dawn. So much so that the splatters of carmine are nearly unseen.
She blinks blearily and lifts her body out. The door to what appears to be a warehouse is open, lathering the peeks of the sun on her body.
Her mind blanks.
She shouldn't be in a warehouse. The Fourth Shinobi World War has been the priority since its start at the Five Kage Summit. She should be in the fields, right now.
Not... here.
There's not much else. She might've not thought twice about where she is if it isn't for the fact that there aren't any healing camps stationed outside of here. That and the carcasses—she initially counted those as casualties of war, ones she almost felt a tragic regret to for failing to save them like the rest out of her control, but now not so much. None of the bodies have Shinobi armor. No conjoined nation headbands either.
This isn't her doing.
So then who?
She expects Naruto among the carnage. Perhaps even her sensei. But they're not here. In fact, she identifies none of these people.
(She hates that she feels relieved there isn't any Uchiha Clan symbol between them.)
Her hair sticks to her neck, bloody. The wind can't unstick the strands. Yet, she's the coldest she's ever felt.
She has no idea where she is. There are odd contraptions outside, too, none that she recognizes.
Her head spins and the liquid red running through her veins feels like it's being stabbed constantly with poisonous needles. Her toes touch the mush of human meat and she shakily stomps down the small pile, clenching her fists and wrinkling her nose. Disgusting, disgusting, Sakura recites anxiously, turning away from the grotesque positions some of them died in.
Bent at an angle, broken spinal cord wrapped in guts and pointed to the air. Decapitated heads, some attached to bone, some jammed into another. A long, dragging trail of processed food, feces, and much else spilled out of the torn ligaments of the lines of guts across the ground.
She's even unfortunate enough to see a lone eyeball watching her between a knee and groin.
But. She supposes none of that is what captures her appalled attention.
That spot is given to an intact, bloody body standing eerily still just behind her, with the head of an orange mechanical saw and legs clothed in torn shorts that have teeth, nails, and fingers clinging to the threads.
Sakura turns around tersely, narrowing her eyes on the whirring machine that looks more man than anything else. It steps forward menacingly with a careless toss of whatever body part got stuck on the blades moving in its arms, and Sakura swallows down bile, raising her fists. She doesn't know where she is. There's a horrifying unknown prowling slowly toward her, and she's in a critical state of chakra with no ally around to provide backup. Sakura isn't weak enough to think she can't handle her own, but it's a tough spot to tell if it's a worthy threat or not. It certainly looks it, with all the sharp teeth that make a mouth awaiting murder.
But that could be a tactic to intimidate her.
As far as she's aware, the bodies could be civilians. A Kunoichi of her caliber won't have a problem facing a monster that she'll have nightmares about at a later time if said monster is behind this mess.
And she's damn sure it is.
When she holds her ground and doesn't move, the creature stops. It straightens. "You're different," It mumbles, but it's hard to tell. Its pitch is somewhat high with a low baritone, a bit unnerving. Lithe, yet confused in tone.
Sakura licks her chapped lips. Iron coats her tongue. "...Who are you?"
The creature doesn't answer. Instead, it remains motionless, and the whirring blades embedded in its skin cease their function.
A thick silence enters the room.
She doesn't falter her stance. An enemy aims to confuse more often than not. Her glare furthers as she tries to find an opening, in case of an attack. She expects one. There isn't a chance it won't start one. The question is: is it dangerous enough to incapacitate her?
"Hug me."
Sakura pauses her one hundred and five ministrations of plans to take it down.
What?
It doesn't move.
"Please," It adds with a voice more human than machine, and it looks like it'll bend over and collapse any minute now. It sways, and Sakura furrows her brows in both confusion and concern.
What should she do?
Hug it?
That's stupid of you, Inner comments.
Sakura isn't foolish enough to dismiss her. She's much too frazzled. This could be a Genjutsu trying to sway her into death's embrace. A very elaborate, mind-consuming Genjutsu that uses the figurative male torso to entice her into hugging the machine creature thing. Kaguya is spreading a fool's gamble, if true. Just because she's a teenage girl, it won't mean she'll fall for the trick of a shirtless guy covered in blood. Sakura honestly doesn't care.
And yet.
This is just too bizarre. Perhaps Kaguya is using a much more sinister method.
Sakura isn't prone to Genjutsu much anymore. But she still got caught in one, nonetheless.
That has to be it. But her mind must be more erratic than she thought because—well. Most of what she's seen are things she's never put together before. It doesn't make sense. It just doesn't make sense.
The creature guy thing is still waiting on her response. It looks like it shut itself down. The glow coming off the sides of its head has dimmed.
It makes a sad picture.
Sakura hesitantly lowers her arms.
She feels a bit guilty, suddenly.
It hasn't done any wrong to her. But she doesn't know if it's a good person or not. Or. Machine. Thing?
She doesn't know. The pile beneath her could be innocent people.
Sakura finds herself climbing the hill of corpses anyway. It's disgusting, and she doesn't want to be near the pile of them anymore, but the Machine guy looks terribly sad. And maybe Sakura is being compelled to do something—she doesn't know. But she feels bad for it. Not. Not pity, because that's insulting. Sakura's done with pity. Maybe the creature guy doesn't know what it's doing and he didn't attack her but he also didn't answer her question and—
Sakura is so, so confused.
But she has always held a bleeding heart for those she doesn't understand.
(Like Sasuke. Like Naruto.
She had grown.)
"Don't kill me," She mumbles like it'll listen or something. That's hilarious, probably. She's losing it.
She's in denial, that's what. And she's just too tired to fight. If she indulges this character, she might avoid one altogether.
So she inches closer and maneuvers around so that her skin isn't caught on the blades, encircling her arms on the warm, warm body in an awkward embrace. Her bones ache, her head hurts, and the smell of death is consuming.
She half expects to be torn in half.
What she doesn't expect is for the machine guy to relax and sag further into her touch, metal head bumping against her forehead and resting there.
Sakura doesn't dare move. Not even when she feels something somewhat solid and gel-like dripping on her shoulders, through the tangles of her hair, and down the burning skin of her arms. The sensation is strange and she prays it's not drool. Perhaps hugging this person thing was a bad idea...
When she finally feels human arms squeezing her waist and chest, she inches away with a hitched breath to spare a glance at her unintentional companion.
What stares down at her isn't a metal orange machine head.
It's a boy.
Sakura stares.
His eyes look hazy. Unfocused. And yet he is looking at her, properly, with no signs of a concussion or animalistic urge. She would've known with her discreet chakra diagnosis. The only thing weird about him is his heart, shaped odd and connected to the protruding cord she follows with her eyes.
Fingers dig into her back, but not painfully.
"Are you a real girl?"
Past his odd blonde hair and glittering brown eyes that nearly look red—two characteristics that drew her attention immediately—are sharp teeth. And really, really, bad breath.
"Um..." She examines him, unsure and slightly irritated. What does he even mean by that? Isn't he going to eat her? Or. Maybe not. He won't eat her. He doesn't look like he will. But that's bad. Maybe? She can't tell with this guy. But his heart rate is a little too slow to that of a regular human... Whatever happened to the metal gear? Oh, Sage. Is she hallucinating now? "Yes," She answers the machine guy anyway, baffled. Or should she call him the delicate-face guy? He has quite the feminine features, a bit. The long, orange-beige eyelashes give him away.
He doesn't reply. He pulls her in fully in lieu of one, slamming her face into his pectorals. His sigh of contentment tickles against the top of her head, making it itch.
Sakura's eyebrow ticks.
"Oh my god, I'm touching a girl... I'm touching a girl for real..." A brief uncomfortable silence passes, and just when Sakura is about to break the hug and ask him what the fuck he means, he starts speaking again. "You smell good. Like. Not sewage..." He then takes a deep sniff of her hair.
Okay. That's enough.
"Excuse me," She tries for cordial, though it comes out through gritted teeth. Her face feels hot with embarrassment because she's damn sure she doesn't smell good, and she doesn't need some guy who reeks of deteriorating flesh to come in and try to save her some grace. She's been fighting for days without a shower. He can't be serious. "Please let go."
As if he's been electrocuted, he springs out of her proximity with a squeak. His face is a splotchy red when it finally addresses her. "Uh..."
Sakura scowls. "Is that all you wanted?"
The guy blinks up at her stupidly. "...Huh?"
"The hug," She gestures between them, "Is that... Is that all you wanted...?" She bites the inside of her cheek.
The boy stands on unsure feet, wobbling slightly. Exhausted, probably. "Uh. You want... more?" He sounds disbelieving.
Sakura never said that. "I meant," She closes her eyes and breathes in, trying to calm the nerves that are catching up to her after going so long being complacent, "I meant if a hug would let me know where I am...? And who you are?" Sage. She's doing such a shit job right now. Priority number one is to assess her surroundings. Not to talk with a boy who sniffed her hair. Tsunade-shishou will be so disappointed in her.
A pang of dread punctures her weeping heart.
That's if she can figure out where she is... And if...
Actually.
She's in a Genjutsu.
She mentally gives a slap to her forehead.
Before the boy can process her question, she brings her hands together in the symbol to dispel genjutsu. "Kai!"
Nothing happens.
Her heart drops to her stomach.
She gathers the bit of chakra she has left. "Kai!" She repeats, and nothing happens.
Her hands shake.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit. That was the last of it.
"Whoa!"
Sakura's caught just as her vision swims.
"Shit," Sakura groans, limp. Her brows scrunch at the throbbing pain forming in her temple and the fuzzy feeling of her entire body. "Bad idea..."
"You make zero sense," The boy mumbles, bringing her in closer. Sakura doesn't have the energy to demand from him why he's being all touchy-feely. "But you look sick. Like... bad..." His face is impossibly close to hers now, and Sakura blinks, thoughts swimming. "Is your name pretty girl? Mine's Denji."
Where is she, again?
"Hm? Denis?" She slurs, because there are a lot of pretty colors all of a sudden. Wow. Is this what Kakashi-sensei is used to? No wonder he likes falling to chakra exhaustion a lot!
"Nah. It's Denji. Den. Ji. Like that."
Sakura hums, because okay. He's staring at her funny. Why is he staring at her funny? She wishes Sasuke stared at her like that. All. Nice-like. Wow.
Sage, she's exhausted.
"You ah," She closes her eyes, feeling her heart slow its pace. Not good, haha! "Sakwa. Me, Saku...raaaa. Help. Healer," She tries to touch her chest to declare herself as the topic of subject, but her hand doesn't move like she wants it to.
She doesn't hear what he says.
Everything goes black.