Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered gently through the tall windows of the Phantomhive manor, scattering golden light across the polished floors and velvet drapes. The mansion was already stirring with life—distant clattering from the kitchen, hurried footsteps of servants.
In one of the guest rooms, Sakura was curled beneath soft sheets, still deep in slumber. That peace shattered when a loud crash echoed from the hallway outside her door. Her brows furrowed as she blinked herself awake, groggy and disoriented. With a soft yawn, she pushed herself up and padded toward the door, still dressed in her nightgown.
The moment she stepped into the hallway, chaos unfolded. Finny, struggling with his usual lack of control, had accidentally tossed an enormous bookshelf much too far. The heavy piece of furniture came hurtling straight down the hall—straight toward Sakura.
“Miss Sakura, move!” Finny shouted, panic lacing his voice. Mey-Rin and Bard froze, horror etched on their faces as they realized what was about to happen.
But the next moment left them speechless.
Still half-asleep, Sakura caught the massive bookshelf as if it were nothing more than a falling curtain. Without even seeming to think about it, she shifted the weight with one arm and carefully set it down beside her door. Her pink hair tumbled over her shoulder as she turned her sleepy eyes toward the three servants, who were staring at her wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
Sakura blinked slowly, then mumbled, “...What are you doing... so loud...?”
Her voice trailed into a drowsy grumble as she rubbed one eye, utterly unfazed by what she had just done.
That broke Finny out of his shock. He scrambled over to her, face pale with worry.
“Are you alright, Miss Sakura? I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me! I could’ve hurt you—” He rattled off apologies, wringing his hands, nearly tripping over his own words.
The other servants were still gawking when Bard finally snapped out of his shock. He stomped over, clapping a hand on Finny’s shoulder and scolding, “Oi, what the hell were ya thinkin’, throwin’ things ‘round like that? You’ll get someone killed one day!”
Mey-Rin quickly followed, fussing over Sakura. Adjusting her glasses nervously, she bent down and asked, “Miss Sakura, you ain’t hurt, are you? Oh heavens, I can’t believe this happened right outside your door…” She checked the girl from head to toe, but Sakura only blinked sleepily at her, still rubbing her eyes.
Before anyone could say more, footsteps echoed down the hall. Sebastian appeared, immaculate as always, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the group huddled together.
“What,” he drawled, his voice low and calm, “is the meaning of this commotion?”
His gaze swept the hallway. When he spotted the misplaced bookshelf standing neatly beside Sakura’s door, his expression darkened almost imperceptibly. Mey-Rin immediately bowed her head, wringing her hands. “I-I’m sorry, Sebastian, sir. We caused a bit o’ noise…”
Still wracked with guilt, Finny stepped forward, shoulders slumping. “We… we only wanted to wake Miss Sakura,” he admitted softly. “We thought she might like to walk in the garden and see the new flowers before breakfast. But then… I—I saw a bug and grabbed the closest thing I could to throw at it. I didn’t even notice it was the bookshelf until it was already flying.” His voice cracked with regret. “And… and Miss Sakura came out just then. She almost got hurt ‘cause of me…”
Sakura, now fully awake and listening, shook her head gently. “It’s alright, Finny. See? I didn’t even get hurt.”
His face brightened instantly. “R-Really? You’re sure?”
She nodded once, and Finny released a relieved sigh, mumbling, “Thank goodness… If Miss Sakura didn’t have strength like me, she would’ve been crushed. I… I need to be more careful.”
Bard chuckled and tapped Finny’s shoulder teasingly. “Yeah, maybe think before throwin’ furniture next time, eh?”
Mey-Rin nodded quickly in agreement, adjusting her glasses again.
Sebastian exhaled a long, tired sigh, his crimson gaze sweeping over the three. “If you are finished attending to your mistakes,” he said sharply, “perhaps you should return to your actual chores.”
The three stiffened immediately. “Y-Yes, sir!” they chorused, saluting with nervous smiles.
Still, Finny hesitated a moment, glancing at Sakura with shy hope. “Miss Sakura… if you’d still like, you can come see the new blooms later. I’d be glad to show you, since you gave me such good tips on how to tend them.”
At that, Bard and Mey-Rin tugged him along, and the three servants shuffled away down the hall. Finny, flustered, rushed back to grab the bookshelf he had thrown, hefting it into place before darting after the others.
Now only Sebastian and Sakura remained. For a brief moment, silence lingered. Then he made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “Hm. I was unaware you were the one instructing Finny.” His eyes flicked toward her. “For that, I must thank you.”
Sakura let out a soft laugh, brushing a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t much, really. I just happened to notice Finny struggling a bit in the garden—he was watering at the wrong time and trimming in a way that might’ve hurt the plants. So… I decided to help him out. By coincidence, I know a little about flowers.”
Her smile softened as she added, “Back home, I have a friend who owns a flower shop. Most of what I know, I learned from her.”
“From your world, then,” Sebastian murmured.
She nodded.
A faint, knowing curve touched his lips. “Your guidance has proven effective. The Phantomhive garden is thriving unusually well for October. Roses, chrysanthemums, asters… even the late marigolds are in splendid bloom this year.” He glanced toward the window, voice calm but deliberate. “It would be an excellent morning to take breakfast in the gazebo.”
Sakura tilted her head, then smiled softly. “That does sound nice.”
Sebastian drew his pocket watch from his coat, its polished silver catching the light. “Breakfast will be served at seven-thirty sharp. You would do well to be ready. The young master also wishes to discuss the continuation of your apprenticeship.” With a precise click, he closed the watch and slid it back into place.
He inclined his head politely before striding away, footsteps fading into the still hallway.
Sakura stood quietly, watching Sebastian’s retreating back. Only when he turned the corner did she release a small sigh. Ever since the funeral, after learning what kind of being Sebastian truly was, she felt herself tensing around him. A part of her urged caution; demons of this world were not like anything she had faced before.
The manor’s library had become her refuge in the days since. She had read of angels and grim reapers, of fairies and other spirits—all dangerous in their own ways. But demons…
Her thoughts lingered on the word.
In her own world, the closest comparison would be the bijū—the tailed beasts. Massive, violent, creatures of chakra that had once brought terror to the shinobi nations. Yet the bijū were different. They were living forces of nature, powerful but not inherently evil, capable of bonding with humans when treated with respect.
Demons here, however, were something else entirely. They were no guardians of balance, no misunderstood forces of nature. Their strength came with hunger—an endless craving for human souls. They walked in perfect disguise, serving loyally until the day of collection. They made contracts not out of compassion, but for the eventual feast.
Sakura tightened her arms across her chest, remembering Sebastian’s ever-calm smile, the gleam in his crimson eyes that hid something predatory. These demons didn’t just live alongside humans—they thrived on them.
And yet… despite her unease, she couldn’t ignore the truth: Sebastian’s presence had helped her, guided her, and even brought her a strange sense of security at the Phantomhive manor. It was a dangerous contradiction, one she wasn’t sure how to unravel.
Her thoughts lingered uneasily until a bird’s chirp at the window startled her back to reality. She blinked, sighed again, and turned back into her room. It was time to choose what to wear for the day.
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The gazebo stood at the heart of the garden, elegant white columns draped with ivy and roses in bloom. From within, one could see the spread of the Phantomhive grounds: winding paths, trimmed hedges, and the glow of autumn flowers swaying gently in the breeze. A round marble table rested at the center, draped in a crisp linen cloth.
Sebastian, as precise as ever, was laying out breakfast: fresh bread still warm from the oven, slices of smoked ham, eggs cooked to perfection, and tea steaming in delicate porcelain cups. He explained each dish with his usual refined tone, describing the sources and preparation as though every detail mattered.
Ciel sat in his chair with practiced poise, his small frame straight-backed, his single visible eye sharp and watchful. Across from him sat Sakura, her night’s fatigue gone, her pink hair catching the morning light. The scene almost felt peaceful—the master and guest sharing a quiet meal in the embrace of the garden.
They began to eat. Between bites, Sakura let her gaze wander. Beyond the gazebo, in the far bushes, Finny was already at work among the flowerbeds. Perhaps sensing her eyes on him, he looked up. When he spotted her, his face broke into a wide grin, and he waved with all the enthusiasm of a child.
Sakura’s lips curved into a soft smile in return.
But the moment was cut short by a sharp clearing of the throat. She turned back quickly to find Ciel watching her intently, his expression serious.
“How was your morning?” he asked, voice clipped but curious.
Sakura hesitated, then gave a small nod. “It was good,” she answered simply, keeping the chaos of the hallway incident to herself.
“Sebastian,” Ciel said then, not taking his eye off her.
The butler, standing silently behind his master, inclined his head. “Yes, my lord.”
“Do you have it?”
“Of course.”
Sebastian stepped forward, retrieving a sealed envelope from the tea cart. With a gloved hand, he placed it into his young master’s grasp.
Ciel broke the seal, his gaze flicking across the paper before turning back to Sakura.
“I’ve found someone willing to take you on as an apprentice,” he said evenly. “His name is Jules de Montfort—a friend of Madam Red. He studied at the same medical school she once attended, later graduating with distinction. Now he serves at the Royal London Hospital. We’ll be visiting him today to discuss your apprenticeship.”
Sakura blinked, her chopsticks pausing mid-air. “When will we leave?”
“As soon as breakfast is finished,” Ciel replied without hesitation.
Sakura lowered her eyes, nodding softly. Her chest tightened with conflicting emotions.
She should have been relieved. Excited, even. Another chance at mentorship, another doorway to the life she wanted. And yet… guilt stirred inside her. Was she not, once again, replacing someone important? First Tsunade-shishou, then Madam Red—both of them had guided her, inspired her, shaped her. Now this new mentor would step into their place.
But she knew this feeling. She had felt it with Madam Red too, and in time, it had faded. It would fade again. This apprenticeship was only a stepping stone. A piece of paper. A license that would allow her to stand once more as a doctor in this unfamiliar world.
Still, her thoughts weighed heavy. In her own world, she was already certified—a trusted medic, a surgeon, a healer who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with warriors and leaders alike. She had cured illnesses, battled plagues, performed surgeries others feared to attempt. She had earned her name, her place.
Here, none of that mattered. Talent alone was not enough. She had to begin again, from the very bottom, as though she had never held a scalpel before. Ciel might be her patron now, but he was only a boy—not a doctor, not Madam Red, not Tsunade. The burden of her future rested on her alone.
And maybe… that was what she needed.
No more special treatment. No shortcuts. Just the struggle of a woman proving herself in a world that would rather see her confined to midwifery. But Sakura’s hunger went beyond that. She longed for the blood and grit of real surgery, for the command of the operating room, for the chance to be more than “just another woman.” She longed to feel whole again.
She longed to feel like Sakura Haruno again.
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The carriage rocked gently as it rolled over the cobbled streets, the steady clatter of hooves muffled by the velvet interior. I sat back against the seat, Sebastian at my side as always, while Sakura sat across from me. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting faint patterns across her face.
Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twisting together before she stilled them, as though catching herself. Her eyes, however, were sharp—curious, almost searching.
“You wish to know who he is,” I began, my voice even. “Jules de Montfort. I met him once, years ago, during a visit to Madam Red at the Royal London Hospital. At that time, he held the rank of Senior Consulting Physician—the third highest position among the doctors there.”
Her brows furrowed. “So… someone very important.”
“Correct,” I replied.
Sakura crossed her arms, leaning back slightly. “So he’s someone who doesn’t waste time on amateurs. Good. Then he’ll see for himself I’m not one.”
A faint smirk touched my lips. Interesting. Most would have faltered at the thought of meeting a man like Montfort.
“If you require more information,” I added, tapping the polished handle of my cane, “Sebastian has prepared a list.”
Sebastian inclined his head. “Indeed, my lord. Dr. Jules de Montfort was born in France, though his family moved to England for business when he was still a boy. He later studied medicine here and befriended Madam Red’s late husband. He has a wife of his own, though little else is spoken of his private life. In the hospital, however, he is known well enough—strict, precise, especially in the medical field. Thus far, he has taken only one apprentice. Now, it seems… you will be the second.
I watched her closely as she absorbed this, her brows knitting together. She finally asked, “How did you convince him? Did you ask him to be my mentor?”
I shook my head. “No. When I began searching for potential mentors, we crossed paths with him by chance. It was not I who persuaded him. Jules de Montfort himself expressed interest in meeting you—and taking you on as his apprentice.”
Her lips parted slightly in surprise. “…Do you know why?”
I held her gaze, my tone clipped. “Not yet. But rest assured—I intend to find out.”
The carriage rolled to a halt before a modest yet elegant manor. Its stone walls stood unadorned, the architecture simple but refined, with neat hedges lining the entrance path.
Sebastian moved first, stepping down with practiced grace. He turned back, offering his gloved hand to Sakura as she descended carefully from the carriage, still quiet but visibly alert. Once she stood safely on the gravel drive, he extended the same courtesy to Ciel.
Without delay, Sebastian strode to the massive oak door and rapped politely. Moments later, it opened to reveal an elderly butler with a bent back and a dignified air.
“Welcome, Lord Phantomhive,” the man said with a courteous bow. “My master has been expecting you. Please, follow me to the drawing room.”
Ciel gave a small nod, falling into step as the old servant led the way inside. The butler’s voice filled the otherwise quiet hall as he continued, “Only my master remains in residence at present. Sadly, the mistress is away in Germany, attending an urgent family matter. He did not escort her, for this meeting required his full attention.”
The man turned his head slightly, his tone lightening with polite interest. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”
At Ciel’s side, Sebastian answered smoothly before his master bothered to respond. “Quite. The roads were kind, and we arrived without trouble.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ciel noted Sakura trailing behind him, her gaze wandering over the gilded frames, polished banisters, and ornate decorations lining the hallway. She seemed almost absorbed, her expression flickering with curiosity at every detail.
Ciel’s mouth twitched faintly. Always distracted by the little things. Still, he said nothing, allowing Sebastian’s practiced civility to cover the silence as they advanced deeper into the manor.
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The drawing room was quiet when they entered, sunlight spilling across polished wood and velvet chairs. Jules de Montfort was already seated, posture straight, hands resting neatly on the armrests of his chair.
Ciel’s sharp gaze swept over him as they approached. Just as he remembered from their first meeting, Jules had the same grayish-black hair, combed neatly back, with cold gray eyes that missed nothing. His pale skin bore the natural wrinkles of age, yet his posture remained steady, carrying the air of a man still deeply rooted in his profession.
They were guided to a table near the window, where Ciel took his seat with practiced composure. Sakura settled gracefully at his side, her posture still touched by a hint of curiosity, while Sebastian positioned himself just behind them—ever the silent shadow.
Jules rose slightly in greeting before speaking, his voice smooth and measured.
“It is good to see you again, Earl Phantomhive. Madam Red spoke fondly of you in the past—I know she held you in the highest regard. Though she is no longer with us, I am glad to meet her nephew once more.”
His eyes then shifted, sharp and assessing, landing directly on Sakura. “And here she is at last. Madam Red’s only apprentice. I have long awaited this introduction.”
Ciel’s single eye narrowed slightly as he watched the man’s expression. Jules wasn’t simply looking at Sakura—he was studying her, the way one examined a rare object, or a puzzle piece meant to fit into a larger picture. It was a look Ciel recognized all too well. After all, it was the very same expression he often wore when unraveling mysteries and schemes.
Adjusting his posture, Ciel rested both hands on his cane, his voice even as he broke the silence.
“It is good to meet you again as well, Dr. de Montfort. But let us not waste time with pleasantries. We came for one reason alone—to discuss Miss Haruno’s apprenticeship.”
A quiet laugh slipped from Jules, low and knowing. His gray eyes flicked back to Ciel, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“Ah… so Angelina’s words were true. She once said you were a child with the manners of an adult and the patience of an old man.”
Ciel’s brow twitched, but he held his composure, his expression as cool as ever.
Sakura, who had been quietly listening, finally straightened her back. Her hands rested lightly in her lap, but her voice carried steadiness when she spoke.
“I… am grateful, Dr. de Montfort, for accepting me as your apprentice. But…” She hesitated a moment, her green eyes searching his face. “Why did you decide to take me in?”
Jules leaned back slightly, studying her with the weight of years in his gaze. His lips curved into a faint hum.
“Hmm… why indeed?”
He folded his hands neatly before him, then began in a measured tone.
“Angelina was like a sister to me. Brilliant, fierce, and uncompromising. She was on the verge of claiming the third-highest position at the Royal London Hospital—no small feat for any physician, let alone a woman. Her skills drew the attention of noble houses all across London. Many sought her guidance. Apprentices lined up, children of wealthy and powerful families, all desperate to learn at her side.”
He paused, gray eyes narrowing with memory.
“And yet… she rejected them all. The cleverest, the richest, the most well-connected—none of them were enough for her. She refused every single one.”
Jules allowed himself a small, almost wistful laugh.
“So imagine my surprise when one day, she confided in me that she had taken an apprentice at last. At first, I was delighted. It meant her knowledge, her legacy, would not be lost to time. I asked her then, curious, which young noble daughter had finally caught her eye. Who was worthy of such an honor?”
His expression shifted, sharp with recollection.
“But to my greater surprise, she told me you were no noblewoman at all. A foreigner. A girl with… unusual hair.”
At that, Sakura blinked, her hand instinctively rising to touch the soft strands of pink framing her face. She let out a nervous little laugh.
“Ah… my hair. Yes, I know it’s… not very common here.”
Jules tilted his head, watching her reaction, then continued without missing a beat.
“You see my dilemma. Angelina—who turned down every well-born candidate—chose you. A stranger with no family name, no ties, no wealth to boast of. Naturally, I was skeptical. What could possibly have set you apart?”
He leaned forward now, his tone firmer.
“When she passed, I could not shake that question. It unsettled me. It angered me, even—that her brilliance would end without explanation, leaving only this mystery in her wake. How could her chosen apprentice, the girl she believed worthy above all others, be left to vanish into obscurity?”
Jules let out a breath, his voice softening at the edges.
“So I decided. I would find you. And by teaching you, I would not only preserve Angelina’s legacy but also uncover what she saw in you—what made you special enough to earn the devotion she denied to all others.”
His gaze locked firmly on Sakura’s, piercing yet unreadable.
“That is why you are here, Miss Haruno. To continue her path… and to answer the question she left behind.”
For a moment, silence settled in the drawing room, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel.
Ciel kept his posture composed, but his thoughts stirred like quicksilver.
So that’s it. Not merely duty. Not merely respect. Curiosity. Obsession, even.
He studied the man with his single visible eye, the corners of his mouth tight. Jules spoke of legacy, of preserving Madam Red’s brilliance, but Ciel could hear the edge beneath the words. This was not only about Angelina—it was about Jules himself, about solving the riddle she had left behind.
He wants answers. And he’ll use her to get them.
His gaze flicked briefly toward Sakura. She sat listening intently, her green eyes bright with both gratitude and unease.
She may not realize it yet, he thought grimly, but to him, she is not only a student. She is the question.
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The night had long settled over the countryside by the time the carriage returned to the Phantomhive manor. Nearly midnight now, the house loomed dark and quiet, save for the glow of a few lamps lit near the entrance.
As soon as they stepped inside, however, they were met by the flustered figures of Bard, Meyrin, Finny, and old Tanaka.
“How was the journey, Young Master?” Bard asked, scratching the back of his head.
Ciel, with his usual composed air, merely replied, “It was acceptable.”
Sebastian’s sharp gaze slid over the three servants, his voice firm. “What exactly are you all doing here in the entrance hall at this hour? Tomorrow’s chores won’t finish themselves. Off to bed. Now.”
The severity in his tone made all three stiffen. They saluted clumsily before scurrying off toward the servants’ quarters, their footsteps echoing down the hall.
Sakura, still standing near the doorway, couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Somehow, no matter how tired she was, the servants’ antics never failed to lift her spirits.
“Miss Sakura,” came Tanaka’s calm, gravelly voice behind her. She turned to find him holding out an envelope. “A letter arrived for you earlier. It seems to be from Lady Elizabeth.”
Accepting it, Sakura glanced at the familiar handwriting. A small smile touched her lips, though her body ached with fatigue. I’ll read it tomorrow… tonight, I just need sleep.
Ciel, noting the weariness in her expression, gave a curt order without hesitation. “Sebastian, assist her to her room.”
Sakura shook her head lightly. “That’s not necessary. You’re the one who looks tired, Ciel—you should be the one getting help.”
But the young Earl only waved a hand dismissively. “I still have paperwork to finish. I’ll rest after that.”
She sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue, and simply nodded. Together with Sebastian, she began making her way upstairs. At the top of the staircase, she glanced back one last time and saw Ciel speaking quietly with Tanaka. Then she turned forward again, walking beside the ever-composed butler until they reached her room.
Inside, she pushed the door open and entered. Sebastian followed, wordlessly efficient as always. He retrieved a cloth from his pocket and tied it over his eyes—a courtesy whenever he assisted her with undressing. With calm precision, he loosened her dress and unfastened the corset until she could breathe freely again.
“Shall I help you into your nightclothes as well?” he asked smoothly.
Sakura quickly shook her head. “No, thank you. I can manage.”
She slipped into her nightclothes and exhaled in relief, ready to collapse into bed. But when she turned around, she stumbled—straight into something solid. Not a wall. A chest.
Lifting her eyes, she found herself inches away from Sebastian, still standing in her room, the cloth covering his eyes. She had been so sure he’d already left.
Her lips parted, ready to ask what he was still doing there, but before she could speak, he leaned down, his breath brushing warm against her ear.
“I can smell it, Sakura,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “That faint hint of fear clinging to you. I thought you’d grown used to encountering beings such as myself.”
Sakura met the blindfolded butler’s face without flinching, her voice steady despite the quickened beat of her heart. “Yes… but don’t compare yourself to him. He was a good man. You, on the other hand, are manipulative, cunning, and cruel.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then Sebastian’s lips curved in the barest smirk.
Sebastian slipped the cloth from his eyes, revealing a gleam of crimson brighter than before. A low chuckle escaped him as he tilted his head.
“Is that so? I’m simply curious, Sakura,” he said, his voice velvet-soft but edged with malice. “What makes you so certain we are different? We are both entities beyond your understanding. Tell me—have I been cruel to you? Or is that merely what you’ve decided to believe?”
Sakura bit her bottom lip, trying to steady herself, but her mind betrayed her. Fragments of the book she had read on demons flickered through her thoughts.
The ritual… the circle of blood, the sacrifice. A person must give up something dear, even their very soul, to summon a being like him. And for what? For power? For vengeance? For desires they couldn’t obtain on their own.
Her chest tightened. Then why… why would Ciel, a boy younger than her, need a contract like this? Why condemn himself so completely? Everything Sebastian does… all his smiles, all his service—it’s just an act. A cruel performance leading only to Ciel’s end.
She bit down harder, the metallic taste of blood sharp on her tongue. Her vision blurred slightly as tears stung her eyes.
Sebastian’s gaze sharpened at the sight. With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing along her jaw, tilting her face up. The sudden touch snapped her from the spiral of her thoughts.
A small gasp escaped her as she felt the sting from her bleeding lip. Instinctively, her hand rose, fingertips brushing her mouth. Pale green light shimmered softly as her chakra sealed the wound in an instant.
Sebastian stilled. His eyes narrowed, following the glow that spread across her lips.
How curious… such power hidden in fragile flesh. That light… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Sweet, delicate… intoxicating. Almost as if her very essence is calling to me. A fragrance too pure for this world, and yet so close to being devoured.
His lips curved slowly, though the hunger in his eyes betrayed the smile.
Sebastian’s crimson eyes gleamed, narrowing in quiet amusement. “You know, Sakura,” he began, voice low and measured, “I am aware of how you spend your nights. Hours buried in the manor’s library, devouring every page about the supernaturals that lurk in this world. Tell me—” his lips curved faintly, “—have you already formed your conclusion about me? I’m curious. And more than that… this ‘friend’ of yours. I want to know what he is. After all, how can you defend him once you know the truth?”
Sakura met his gaze, unflinching despite the knot in her chest. “Naruto,” she said, softly at first, then steadier. “He’s my friend. Since the day he was born, he carried something inside him that made people hate and fear him. He was shunned, beaten down, treated like nothing. But even then—” her voice trembled with warmth, “—he smiled. Always. Like the sun breaking through the clouds. No matter what, he never gave up on us. On me. He’s dear to me… and that’s why I can defend him.”
Her lips tightened. “You know, I thought of you as a friend too. But after learning what you really are… it scares me.”
For a moment, silence pressed between them. Sebastian tilted his head, the curiosity in his gaze sharpening.
This Naruto… not a demon, not truly. Merely a vessel. And yet, she clings to him as if he’s a savior. To endure hatred and smile anyway? Hn. What foolishness. A waste. If he had such power, why let tormentors live? Why not make them suffer?
His eyes flicked back to her, narrowing. “Tell me, Sakura. Is that why you’re afraid? Because you think I’ll take your soul?”
She shook her head, slow and firm. “No… that’s not why. To be honest, Sebastian, what scares me isn’t the thought of you stealing my soul.” She drew a shaky breath. “It’s because even after knowing what you are, why… why do I still want to call you a friend? That’s what frightens me. I’m scared because I’m being an idiot again—holding onto hope in someone who’ll only hurt me in the end.”
Her eyes grew distant, unfocused. A memory flickered unbidden.
Dark eyes, colder than night. A boy who once held her entire heart. His back always turned to her, walking further and further away.
Sasuke’s voice echoed in her mind, cutting sharp as a blade. “You’re annoying.”
The weight of chasing him, believing in him, only to be left behind burned her chest. Even now, the ache was fresh.
Her lips trembled. Am I doing it again? Placing faith where I shouldn’t? Hoping for something that will only break me?
Sebastian studied her quietly, her words unraveling in his mind. Friend…? Even after knowing I’m a demon? In all the centuries of his existence, he had seen every human reaction imaginable: terror, greed, hatred, desire. Never this. Not once had a human looked at him and spoken such things.
For the first time in an age, he felt something unfamiliar, something he could not name.
His lips curved into a quiet chuckle, breaking the moment. “You are… truly fascinating, Sakura.”
With that, he turned, his footsteps silent as he left the room.
Sakura remained where she stood, staring at the closed door, dumbfounded.
She was still processing everything that had happened, but in the end, she pushed a long breath past her lips and decided to crawl into bed. She lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling as the silence of the manor settled around her like a heavy blanket. She shifted once, then again, tugging the covers over her shoulders, but no matter how she tried, her mind refused to rest.
Her thoughts drifted back to Sebastian—his teasing voice, the way his crimson eyes had gleamed in the dark, and her own reckless words tumbling out before she could stop them. Why would I even say that? she groaned inwardly, burying her face into the pillow. A friend? Really, Sakura? You basically told a demon you want to be friends with him!
She slapped the pillow against her face, cheeks burning hot. “I’m such an idiot,” she muttered into the fabric. And worse—she couldn’t deny how infuriatingly good he looked when he smirked at her, shadows playing across his sharp features. Her eyes widened, and she immediately shook her head against the pillow. Stop it, Sakura! Don’t go there. Absolutely not.
With a groan, she rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow tight as if she could squeeze the thought away.
Her restless mind, however, refused to leave her in peace. It wandered back to the meeting earlier with Dr. Jules. Of all the reasons she had imagined for why he wanted her as an apprentice, his explanation had not been one of them. In her world, she had faced shinobi with twisted motives and impossible logic, but even here, people could be just as unpredictable. To him, she wasn’t merely a student—she was a puzzle piece, something he needed to examine and fit into place.
Sakura frowned at the memory, unease curling in her chest. She didn’t like that feeling. But what choice did she have? All she truly wanted was to complete her study, earn her license, and move forward. Whatever Jules’s hidden intentions were, she couldn’t afford to care.
Her mind wandered again, this time to the conversation Jules and Ciel had shared in front of her. The plan was already set: starting next week, she would begin her apprenticeship at the hospital. Like all apprentices, she would shadow her mentor directly, assisting with patients, observing treatments, and learning proper techniques beside another apprentice already under his guidance. Her schedule would be limited—Mondays and Thursdays only—since Dr. Jules’s time was always in demand.
Next Monday, her real test would begin. Jules had explained that he would first assess her knowledge in medicine, asking her to help with patients suffering from minor injuries—scrapes, shallow cuts, sprains. A simple test, he had called it, but Sakura understood it was more than that.
He had also said she would study under him for three years. Yet, with a flicker of something she couldn’t quite read—doubt, or perhaps excitement—he admitted that if she truly was the prodigy Madam Red had claimed, then she could graduate in just one.
Sakura exhaled softly into the dark. She couldn’t decide if that should make her feel relieved… or uneasy. She wasn’t sure if she would like studying under Dr. Jules—or if she should be worried about it.
That was her last thought before her heavy eyelids finally closed, pulling her into sleep.
In another part of the manor, the young Earl sat alone in his study, the quiet rustle of paper filling the dimly lit room. Ciel worked through the stack before him with practiced efficiency, but his mind wasn’t entirely on the documents. Inevitably, his thoughts strayed back to what had happened earlier that day.
Sakura’s new journey under Dr. Jules… He wasn’t sure whether it would be easy for her. The medical field was harsh, and expectations from someone like Jules would no doubt be high. Still, Ciel knew enough of her by now to recognize her intelligence. She was capable—more than capable, perhaps.
He remembered clearly the first time he had learned of her apprenticeship under his aunt. Angelina had spoken with rare conviction, insisting the girl was talented in medicine, that she “knew it.” At the time, Ciel had doubted it. After all, when Sakura first arrived at the manor, she had revealed little about herself. The only glimpse she had given was one quiet night, during a chess game, when she mentioned her background with herbs. Hardly a qualification worthy of Madam Red’s notice. He hadn’t cared, of course; so long as she caused no trouble, it was irrelevant.
Yet his aunt had often praised Sakura’s progress, boasting of her cleverness, her sharp mind. Ciel had seen glimpses of it himself, when she lent him aid in his own studies. It was still surprising to him—unbelievable, even—that someone like her, a girl with no noble background, a girl once victimized by cruel circumstance, could carry such intelligence and willpower. To his own admission, he was… quietly impressed.
After Jack the Ripper, when her secret had been revealed, he had recognized her true value. She was more than just a girl under his aunt’s wing. She could be a pawn on his board—no, a useful piece, one capable of turning games in his favor. By then, Ciel had decided. Sakura Haruno was fully part of the Phantomhive household.
His single eye drifted toward the window, catching the pale light of the moon. For a moment, the silver glow reflected off something on his desk, pulling his attention. A small glass jar of konpeitō sat there, filled to the brim. Sakura always made sure to buy it when she visited town, often returning with the jar full just for him.
Ciel reached for it almost absently, lifting the lid. He plucked a single piece of the crystallized candy and placed it on his tongue. Sweet—uncomplicated, yet oddly comforting. His lips curved into the faintest smirk, an expression gone as quickly as it appeared. He let out a quiet sigh, leaning back into his seat, the taste of sugar lingering as his thoughts deepened.
The papers still waited. But for now, his gaze lingered on the candy jar, a small reminder of the curious girl who had, somehow, already taken her place within his game. A pawn, perhaps—but he could not yet ignore the thought creeping at the back of his mind.
Some pawns, after all, had the potential to become queens.
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The cave appeared ordinary from the outside—jagged rocks, damp soil, and the faint drip of water echoing at its mouth. Yet once inside, the darkness opened into something unnatural. Hidden beneath the stone lay a laboratory—cold, metallic, and filled with shelves of glass vials, jars of preserved organs, and tools sharp enough to dissect life itself.
A tall figure slipped silently into the chamber, his form swallowed by shadows. His presence was deliberate, his movements fluid, as if the cave itself bent around him. He approached a grotesque puppet resting at a worktable, its body armored like an insect’s carapace. The puppet, Hiruko, loomed over flasks where toxic liquids swirled and hissed.
The man spoke first, his tone light, polite, almost mocking.
“The mist poison you crafted for my client worked beautifully. It spread through the village just as promised. They are in chaos—exactly as expected.”
Hiruko remained motionless, its wooden fingers still hovering over the table of mixing chemicals. But then a low, measured voice seeped out from within.
“Just as I anticipated. That toxin was strong enough to lay even a nation on its deathbed.”
The tall man’s tone shifted, rougher now, almost rumbling.
“Sadly… your poison was rendered useless. A vaccine was created almost immediately. No one died. Your art failed.”
The puppet’s head creaked as it turned toward him. The voice from within was sharp, incredulous.
“Impossible. That was the second most lethal formula I have ever perfected. No antidote should exist.”
The man stepped forward into the dim laboratory light, revealing himself at last. His body was half black, half white—two beings fused into one. Zetsu. One side grinned with pale lips, the other glared from the abyss.
Without another word, Zetsu flicked a folded paper toward the puppet. Hiruko’s clawed hand shot out, catching it. Sasori unfolded the letter, his eyes narrowing as he read the official message: the village leader’s words of gratitude toward the Hokage, praising the healer who had ensured their people’s recovery.
Sasori’s puppet-head tilted upward, his voice dripping with disdain.
“So… I underestimated the skill of the Slug Sannin, Tsunade Senju.”
The white half of Zetsu chuckled, his voice sly.
“No. You are mistaken. It wasn’t Tsunade. The antidote was crafted… by her apprentice.”
He tossed another paper, letting it drift to the ground this time. Sasori’s gaze followed. He didn’t move to catch it. The parchment landed face-up, an image staring back at him. A girl, her hair an unusual shade of pink.
The words slipped from between his lips as he read her name.
“…Haruno Sakura.”
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All Naruto characters are from Kishimoto Masashi, and all Black Butler characters are from Yana Toboso.