Sakura hated working on Saturdays.

The majority of the customers were rude snot nosed brats who always—always asked about her hair, her stupid boss routinely left her probably to go partying and tree branch collecting (don't ask), and worst of all—it was freaking Saturday. She could be relaxing at home with a nice sexy medical textbook, studying about fun things like hematopoietic stem cells and cutting people open, but instead she was sweating balls behind a rickety cash register. Sakura heaved a sticky breath as the humidity made a valiant effort to asphyxiate her.

The sound of a plastic packet crinkling and being set down on the counter in front of her with a small thud caught her attention. Sakura blinked, staring at the empty space in front of her in confusion.

Someone cleared their throat, drawing her attention towards a large pair of brown eyes peering at her from above the counter.

"Why is there a five year old in the store?" Sakura asked herself incredulously.

A small huff of indignation was heard before the kid's face rose slightly higher over the counter, so that his nose was now visible.

"I'm eight," he glared, although it was hard to take him seriously as it looked more like a pout, and also considering the fact that he could barely keep eye contact with her on his tip toes.

"Uh, sure," Sakura glanced down at the crumpled bag of skittles resting on the counter in front of her. It looked strangely weathered at the edge, as if someone had tried and failed to rip it open. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the fidgeting kid in front of her. Or at least what she could see of him now that he was no longer on his toes, subsequently reduced to a tuft of hair and eyes that avoided contact.

Sakura rolled her eyes, before sighing and scanning the bag anyway. "That'll be $3.50, please," she drawled.

There was a bit of shuffling as the boy rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a piece of lint, chewed gum in a Kleenex (ew), and finally the exact change with a victorious fist pump.

Sakura really didn't want to touch the gum-tissue infested money (her ingrained sanitary habits as a medical student screamed in mortification at the prospect) but the kid was still waiting expectantly so she swiped them off the counter into her hand with only the slightest grimace.

The kid grinned—his front teeth missing—before grabbing the packet of candy and scurrying out the door. The bell chimed on his way out, and Sakura slumped back into her horrible posture.

Her eyes slid over to the lukewarm cup of coffee resting on her desk. The cup had been a gift from Naruto during Christmas last year (only Naruto would get her a cup that read something as corny as 'Never fear, the doctor is here!') but she cherished it all the same. Especially now, since her best friend had gotten promoted to head director of Konoha Corps and barely even had time to see her anymore.

The monotone hum of cars driving past her gas station and the shitty radio channel had been her only constant company for the past four hours in the sweltering heat. Sakura sighed and pulled out her phone, swiping up when she saw the notification lighting up her Lock Screen. A picture of her ex greeted her fleetingly and Sakura's grip tightened—she would change that—before the screen changed and displayed a series of Ino's texts.

Ino: hey fivehead
Ino: u still coming tnt?
Ino: u better fucking come or I'll burn all ur textbooks

Sakura smirked. The get together organized tonight meant to celebrate Choji's promotion in Konoha Corps was mostly just a ploy for Ino to spend some time with Shikamaru. Of course she wanted Sakura there, she didn't want it to be awkward showing up alone.

Me: damn that's kinda harsh
Me: although if u rlly want to impress that big sexy brain of his I recommend ch 14

Ino's thought bubble appeared, but Sakura didn't get the chance to read it when two sudden ground shaking bangs sounded outside.

She screamed, dropping her phone in shock.

It hit the desk and clattered somewhere unreachable on the floor.

Her brain raced to catch up to what was going on.

Distantly she heard the sounds of tires screeching and men yelling in panic.

Gunshots. There was a shooting going on right outside the corner store.

Ducking under the counter, Sakura grabbed the pistol stashed in the drawer, her fingers fumbling uselessly with the safety as her heart stuttered in her ears. She heard the fast whirl of a machine gun emptying its bullets and the resounding clinks as they ricocheted off a car.

Why did Yamato have to leave the store today of all days? Sakura despaired. She was probably going to die because her boss thought it was a good day to find a new plant to add to their already overwhelming display.

A loud crash sounded above her and Sakura let out a muffled scream as another bullet shattered the window by her desk. The glass shards rained down on her, cutting through the exposed skin on her arms and legs.

She needed to get out of here. She was going to die if she didn't. (Now.)

Sakura took a shuddering breath, willing herself to move. Slowly, she crawled to the end of her desk—flinching at every gunshot—and peeked over the edge to scan for safe passages of escape. The broken glass cut deep into her hands and knees, but she barely felt it with enough adrenaline pumping through her to run a marathon.

Something small and red caught the corner of her eye and Sakura startled, swerving her gaze back to the familiar object.

There! Her phone was lying just barely out of reach. Sakura reached for it, but her hand suddenly faltered. If she were to crawl out of her hiding space, she'd be completely exposed to whatever was going on outside.

As if hearing her thoughts, a bullet hit her favorite coffee mug, making it explode right above her head. Sakura pressed her back against the desk, sucking in harsh breaths. The brown substance dripped slowly from the counter onto the floor.

A piece of the cup was imbedded in the wall, crudely shattered to display the words Never fear.

Sakura wanted to cry. Instead, she clutched the small pistol close to her chest and inwardly recited the list of central and peripheral nervous system functions.

The nervous system uses electrical impulses and neurotransmitters to communicate with body cells.

Thud.

This allows for fast-acting, but short lived effects.

Bang!

The central nervous system is composed of the brain and spinal cord.

Crash.

While the peripheral nervous system includes the cranial, spinal and peripheral nerves.

Sakura squeezed her eyes open. The fight had gone quiet for a minute now, but she didn't dare peek over the cashier's counter.

Creaakkkk.

Sakura's heart dropped as she heard the door open. The welcome bell chimed cheerily.

Heavy footsteps padded into the small store, disturbingly close to where she was hidden. Wet, garbled coughs echoed through the silent room.

"Tenzo?" A raspy, masculine voice called out.

Tenzo? Was there someone else in the room with them? Sakura clutched her pistol closer to her chest and tried to calm her racing heart.

When he got no response, the mystery (potentially armed, definitely dangerous) man shuffled over to what Sakura guessed was the supply closet, where the first aid kit was located.

He's been here before, Sakura realized with no small amount of dread.

Okay.

Okay.

All she had to do was stay quiet, wait for this guy to get what he needed and leave, and then get her phone so she could call the cops. She could do that. It was—

Ding!

Sakura's eyes widened, and her body went cold. Her text message notification cut through the silence like a knife through butter, shrouding the atmosphere in a suffocating tension.

Fuck, fuck. You couldn't have waited like fifteen more minutes, Ino-pig! She thought frantically.

The shuffling paused, and Sakura's breath hitched. Then, to her horror, heavy footsteps started slowly approaching in her direction. Shitshitshit. He couldn't be allowed to see her, she would have to catch him by surprise if she even stood a chance.

Step.

Sakura's fingers tightened on the trigger.

Step.

Her heart pounded against her ribs.

Step.

The muscles in her legs tensed in preparation.

Step.

As soon as Sakura spied the blood crusted shoe step past the corner of the counter, she burst from her hiding spot, hands on autopilot as she shot at the silver blur in front of her.

The bullet pierced through the man's side and he grunted in pain, before swerving and lunging at her, knocking the weapon from her hands.

Sakura shrieked as she was pinned harshly to the wall, finding herself staring into a pair of narrowed, mismatched eyes.

"Who are you?" Her assailant growled. His voice was low and deadly.

When Sakura thrashed in panic, he pushed himself more firmly against her, effectively hindering her movement.

"I won't ask again," he warned, this time sliding a long knife out of a hostler on his hip and placing it against her jugular. "Where's Tenzo? Who do you work for?"

Sakura's breath stuttered, afraid to breathe too harshly and accidentally cut an artery. "M-my name is S-Sakura," she whispered, eyes fixed on the blade that could very easily end her life.

It pressed harder against her skin, drawing a line of blood. Sakura squeezed her eyes closed.

"I-I work for this guy named Yamato as a cashier. He owns this store. U-um, I don't know who this Tenzo person is I think you've got the wrong person."

She risked a glance at the unnamed man, finding a glimmer of realization dawn in his eyes, before the emotion was once again hidden behind his mask. Literally and figuratively. The man wore a black fabric mask that covered most of his face, and a matching bandana that pushed back his unruly silver bangs. He kind of looked like a young, angry Santa Claus, if Santa Claus ever decided he wanted to (change careers and become a terrorist) kill people instead. Sakura never thought she would see someone with a hair color weirder than hers, but silver hair definitely took the cake.

The blade was suddenly removed from her neck, and swiftly placed back into the sheath on his hip with a resounding slink. He abruptly let go of her wrists, stepping back and kicking the gun into a corner so she couldn't reach it. Sakura let out a breath of relief that she didn't know she'd been holding.

"So here's what's going to happen," the man started, looking at her pointedly.

Sakura glanced at him warily.

"You're not going to tell anyone this happened," he continued. "You're not going to call the police, because I will find you and you won't like what happens after that. Anddd—" he dragged out that syllable, gesturing with his fingers as if he were listing a grocery list and not threatening her with certain death. "If you try anything on me I have some friends that could hunt you down in their sleep."

"Got it?" He finished cheerily, but his tone had a sharp edge to it. He would kill her if she didn't agree. Well, if this could even count as a choice. It really wasn't.

Sakura's mouth felt dryer than the Sahara desert in mid July. Judging from the amount of gun and knife holsters on his person, he was probably a gang member or a trained assassin. She made the educated decision that being stabbed to death really wasn't at the top of her bucket list. She nodded warily.

"Great!" The man clapped his hands together, and then promptly passed out.