Chapter 35
Sakura doesn’t see the demon boy—she has given up all civilities in that gods damned medical room—until she is released.
He looks the same; with bulbous green eyes lined in charcoal black, an excited smile on his face.
Sakura hates his smile. She wants to rip it off with her teeth, she wants to feel the way his skin caves to her kunai, to her fingernails, to feel the rush of his blood on the sand and to stand on the squidgy membrane of his intestines.
She wants to see him broken and heaving until he resembles a bloodied rag.
“Come.” He tilts his head regally. He still has that smile. “You are to visit the Old Witch.”
She snarls, baring her teeth. “Obaba is no witch.”
He laughs a cold, high sound that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.
“She is to father.”
And what else can she say to that?
The Kazekage always wins.
She still spits on the ground at his feet when she passes by him.