SAKURA HARUNO
Sakura's brain was already running too fast when Sensei shoved her into the closet.
Her anger bubbled up first. Who did he think he was, just shoving her into a closet like some—some prop?! But then, his eyes… those black, magnetic orbs stopped her cold. He leaned in close.
"Be a good girl and stay put." He whispered, and she listened, "Watch the proof I promised."
The anger bled out. Not all of it, but enough. She nodded.
He was her sensei, after all. That alone should have been enough. If she followed instructions, if she proved she could listen, she'd secure her place.
He wasn't dismissing her; he was instructing her. If he said stay, she would stay. She wasn't an undisciplined brat like Ino, who would probably screech and blow the cover. Sakura was better than that. She was a professional.
Even now, Ino's annoying voice still grated at the back of her mind, already counting Sakura out. I'd be better. More useful. As if it were that simple. As if Sakura hadn't already earned this. She clenched her jaw. She wasn't losing her spot to Ino-pig. Not now. Not ever.
Stupid Ino wouldn't have lasted five seconds doing what Sakura just did. Ino would've pulled away, would've argued, would've complained. But Sakura hadn't. Sakura had endured.
So of course, she'd stay in the closet. This was easy compared to that.
The closet was dark, smelling vaguely of cedar and stale hotel air. Empty hangers dangled from the rod above her head, clinking softly as she shifted her weight. The door was cracked just enough to see into the room.
Her mouth felt weird. Wrong. Like, even though it was empty now, it still felt... full.
Sakura ran her tongue along her teeth over the roof of her mouth, tasting the metallic tang of her own saliva and the lingering, unmistakable taste of skin. Of him.
Her face burned in the dark.
She kept thinking about what just happened, trying to make sense of it, but every time she tried to organize her thoughts, they just... tangled up worse. What the hell had just happened? It was unconventional, sure. Definitely not something they taught at the Academy. Definitely not something she'd ever mention to anyone—especially not Ino.
But then again, Academy manuals were written for generic genin fodder, not for the elite students. And it was….. effective, wasn't it? Sensei knew what he was doing. He was a prodigy jounin who'd defeated a Mizukage. He saw potential in her when no one else did.
So maybe it was unconventional. Maybe she had her misgivings about him putting his fingers in her mouth, about how intimate and embarrassing it had been, about — oh God, the mess! The mess she'd made! Saliva everywhere, tears streaming down her face like some kind of pathetic civilian.
She felt her ears burning with shame. B-but it was necessary. Yes, It was! Just like he'd said, discomfort was a shinobi's best friend. Comfort made shinobi complacent.
Sakura didn't want to be complacent.
And that moment before the knock... when he leaned in...
Sakura shook her head violently in the dark, her long hair brushing against the hanging coats. No. She'd gotten it wrong. That was just adrenaline. He was checking her pupils or her breathing. Sensei was a professional; he wouldn't just kiss his student in a hotel room. That would be inappropriate. And Sakura Haruno was nothing if not mature and appropriate.
Yes. She must have gotten the moment wrong.
Except the explanation didn't settle anything. The thought wouldn't stay put. The confusing feelings were growing even more confusing, tangling up with the lingering warmth in her stomach and the way her mouth still felt like it was waiting for something.
She didn't have time to sort it out.
A voice filtered through the wooden louvers of the closet door, muffled at first, then clearer as footsteps approached.
Sakura's breath hitched in her throat. Mom?
What was Mom doing here? The confusion lasted only a split second before the pieces clicked together. Of course. This was the proof Sensei had been talking about. The proof that he hadn't coerced her mom, that Mom was happy and willing, and that it helped her somehow.
Sakura felt annoyed. At Sensei for not just dropping the stupid promise when she'd already forgiven him. At herself for being stuffed in a closet like a child. And at her mom for showing up now and interrupting—
She stopped that thought before it finished.
Sakura shifted, peering through the slats of the closet door.
Her mother stepped into the room. Mebuki Haruno, usually dressed in severe, practical clothes with a scowl etched permanently onto her face, looked... different.
She was wearing a sundress, floral, light, and cut so low Sakura could see... way more than she'd ever seen her mom show. Her face was painted with makeup, her lips a bright, eager red, blush that highlighted her cheekbones, and mascara that made her eyes look bigger and brighter. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders instead of being pulled back in its usual severe bun.
But it was Mom's face that made Sakura stop thinking entirely.
Mom looked…. radiant. She looked happy.
Sakura blinked, her grip on the closet door frame tightening. She had expected her mother to look stressed, or maybe guilty. But Mom's eyes lit up when they landed on sensei, and it wasn't the tight, irritable smile Sakura was used to seeing at home. It was genuine. Warm. Her whole face lit up in a way Sakura hadn't seen in years—maybe ever. She looked ten years younger.
Sakura smiled too, genuine and unbidden.
A complicated knot of emotions twisted in Sakura's chest. On one hand, she'd forgiven Sensei. He'd explained how Mom needed this, needed some kind of outlet because Dad was just... Dad. Sweet, but not exactly helpful. If this made Mom happy, then who was Sakura to judge? It was a mature perspective to take. The burden of this secret was just part of growing up, part of being a shinobi who understood the gray areas of life.
Dad….. he would understand too. Of course he would. He was always like that, always encouraging Mom to do what made her feel good. But he loves Mom too, and it would crush him. So, Sakura would protect him by keeping quiet.
That was the responsible thing to do. Usefulness required sacrifice.
But on the other hand...
"Eishin-kun!" Mom practically threw herself at the young Jōnin, wrapping her arms around his neck with a desperate fondness. "I missed you. I thought the mission was going to take another week!"
She pressed her face into his chest, her hands sliding up his back, and giggled.
Sakura started feeling bad for watching. This was private, wasn't it? Sensei had shown her the proof already—Mom was clearly happy—so maybe he'd end it now and let Sakura out of the stupid closet.
But he didn't.
Mom pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hands still roaming over his shoulders, his chest, his arms. She was acting like—like she was Sakura's age, giggling and hanging off him, and it made Sakura's stomach twist.
It was normal to feel repulsed, right? No daughter should have to watch her mother act like that. Even if Sakura had already seen more than she ever wanted to.
She'd never seen Mom act this way before. And Sensei was, what, barely older than Sakura herself? It was wrong. Wasn't it? Sakura had forgiven them both. She'd accepted it. But still, watching Mom cling to him, watching her press herself against him like she was trying to melt into him—it made Sakura's face go hot.
Sensei returned the hug. He stepped into the embrace, his strong arms wrapping around Mom's waist, pulling her flush against him. Mom, who always loomed so large and loud in Sakura's life, annoying and critical, suddenly looked tiny. Small enough that Sensei could just... hold her.
Sakura couldn't look away from how small Mom looked, how... contained. But then…..
Their hands started wandering, and oh God, Sakura did NOT want to see where this was going.
Sensei looked so... in control. Mom, who always seemed so large in Sakura's life, looked small in his arms. His hands moved over Mom's back like—like he'd done this before. A lot. Sakura's cheeks burned. She followed the movement of his big hand, fingers splaying wide across her back.
Sakura's own hand shot to her neck, covering the spot where he had held her just minutes ago.
She could still feel it, the phantom warmth and the reassuring pressure of his palm. The way he had massaged the tension out of her while she... while she took his fingers. Her mouth felt cold now. Empty in a way that felt wrong.
A strange, hot feeling pooled in her stomach, heavy and insistent.
Don't be weird, Sakura, she scolded herself, seeing the way her mother melted against her sensei. Mom is just... being Mom, in an odd, never-before-seen way, but still Mom. And Sensei is proving a point.
She tried to look away, to give them privacy now that the point had been proven. Mom was happy. The coercion theory was debunked. Mission accomplished.
But she couldn't tear her eyes away.
After a while, Mom pulled back slightly, looking up at Sensei with a grin that Sakura had never seen on her mother. It wasn't a mother's smile. It was that look. A look Sakura had seen once, walking past the red-light district with Ino. It had made Ino laugh, and Sakura blush and hurry past.
Sakura's stomach turned.
They whispered something to each other Sakura couldn't hear. Mom put her hand on Sensei's chest, then slid it slowly down to his waist.
Without even hesitating, Mom bent over right there—hands on the bed, back arched, looking over her shoulder at Sensei like—
Oh God.
Sakura's brain short-circuited.
"Go on. See for yourself."
Sensei stepped forward, gripping the hem of the floral dress. Slowly, he flipped it up over Mom's back.
Mom wasn't wearing anything underneath.
Nothing.
Sakura's breath caught in her throat, her eyes going wide. What the hell—this wasn't—she wasn't supposed to see—
No daughter should ever see their mother like—
She made a stangled sound and bumped her head into something and nearly gave herself away.
Mom stiffened. "What was that?"
Sakura slapped both hands over her mouth, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Just the wind," Eishin said smoothly, his voice calm. "Or maybe the floorboards settling."
She wanted to scream. She wanted to burst out of the closet and shout at her mother to have some dignity, to pull her skirt down. It was disgusting. It was vile. No daughter should see her mother's... exposed private parts. It was practically staring right at the closet door.
And she was so, so close to doing that and more, but…
Stay put. Be a good girl.
Sakura bit her lip hard, forcing herself to breathe. She wouldn't disappoint him. She had just spent the last hour learning self-control, learning to suppress her reactions. If she stormed out now, she would be failing the lesson. She would prove she was just an emotional child who couldn't handle the realities of adult life.
She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away. She had seen enough.
End this, sensei. Please, just end this.
To Sakura's horror, it didn't seem like things were ending anytime soon.
She'd looked away, but she hadn't plugged her ears.
A wet, squelching sound reached her, followed by a breathy moan. Mom's voice, soft and wrong, saying something Sakura couldn't quite make out.
Sakura squeezed her eyes shut tighter. Please don't be what I think it is.
"Do you like my fingers, Mebuki?" Sensei's voice was smooth and loud enough that Sakura could hear it clearly. "I had prepared them just for you."
Prepared them? Sakura's eyes snapped open.
She didn't hear Mom's answer, but she…. She focused on Sensei, on his hand, on the fingers that were currently—
He was using those fingers.
The fingers he had just pulled out of her mouth. The fingers still wet from—from her. From what she'd done. What he'd made her do. The mess she'd made of herself. He hadn't washed them. He hadn't wiped them off. He had gone straight from her throat to... to that.
Rage, white-hot and blinding, surged through her.
It was insulting. It was gross. It was...
Sakura's fists clenched at her sides, shaking with the force of her anger. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to focus all her chakra into her fist and shatter the closet door and wipe that smirk off his face. How dare he? How dare he mix them up like that?
I prepared them.
He said it so loudly. So clearly.
He knew she was there. He knew she was listening. He knew exactly what implications those words carried.
Why would he do that? Why would he intentionally provoke her disgust, her anger? It seemed cruel. She never had—
Wait.
He said it so loud. Too loud. Like he wanted her to hear.
Why would he—unless—
Oh.
Oh.
This was still the test.
The words he had said earlier come back to mind.
A shinobi must set aside personal discomfort so decisions stay clear.
He was watching her right now, waiting for her to fail. Waiting for her to prove she wasn't cut out for this.
The oral training hadn't ended when Mom walked in. That was just phase one—physical control. This... this was phase two. Emotional control.
He was testing her. He was deliberately creating the most humiliating, provoking, confusing situation possible to see if she would fail.
He was testing her compartmentalization.
It was like a practical exam. Theory was the training with his fingers. Application was staying silent now. Pass/fail.
Ino would've freaked out by now. Probably would've burst out of the closet screaming. But Sakura was better than that. Smarter than that.
She was going to pass.
Sakura unclenched her fists. She forced her breathing to slow, mimicking the rhythm he had taught her minutes ago. In through the nose. Out through the nose.
He thinks I'll break, she thought, and she felt her lips curl into a smile in the darkness. He thinks he can make me fail.
Well, he's wrong.
He didn't know who he was dealing with. This was Sakura Haruno—top kunoichi of her Academy class, student of a legendary jounin. She didn't break. She didn't fail.
And she sure as hell wasn't going to lose to some test.
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