Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
"So, Sakura-san. Do you know how risky it is to be up and about at midnight and talk to strangers?'
MIDNIGHT CHARMER
berryboom
The moon was bright. The village was asleep. The air was quiet. The night was long. He was hungry.
Just another fact.
His fingers grazed along the edge of the katana inside his cloak, barely cutting into his skin although it was sharp and had tasted too much of bloodshed. He didn't need it anyhow; his strength didn't really require tools like that. It was for war.
He had other weapons, but they were just too conspicuous. They would give away his secret.
His black cloak swished against the road as he walked down the streets of Konoha, totally oblivious and asleep at this late hour. There wasn't even a lone dog or a stray cat moving; it was unnaturally quiet and still.
Like suspended halfway to death.
It would have been better if some recluse had just wandered into his way and satisfied him, but given the tranquility in the town, that seemed unlikely. He didn't like leaving evidences.
In a swift leap of a striking cat, his feet touched the surface of a roof. It gave the view of the whole sprawling settlement, bathed in the moonlight.
He closed his eyes as the sudden breeze blew back his long black hair and his mantle, carrying the distinguished scents of the men and women of Konoha, of their blood and their Chakra.
Even having control of his impulses, he found it irresistible. That prominent and specific scent of flesh and blood, mixed in with honeysuckle, cherry blossoms, vanilla, fresh leaves, perfumed fabric, strawberry-scented silk…distinctly feminine and outrageously alluring. His eyes snapped open.
At his far right was a huge, richly furnished house, hidden behind the huge maple tree planted beside a florist shop. His sharp, evaluating eyesight foresaw what – who – was already there.
He appeared in the garden before a second was past. The backyard of the white-marble house was quite beautiful, with rows and rows of neat honeysuckle, roses and all kinds of flowers that could be grown on this land. In the center was a masterpiece of a fountain, with the statue of a peacock standing magnificently between the water, the colored lights turned off for the night. To complete the picture, a figure sat hunched on its edge, its small back to him, pale hair flowing down the shoulders. Or rather, as his eyes told him, pale pink hair.
He sat down quietly beside the girl, with the space of about one foot between them. He didn't make a sound, just stared ahead at the brilliantly built house with his hands in his lap. She didn't hear him; her face was covered with the hair, bowed down. Though he first thought she was crying, that didn't seem to be the case. She was quiet as a mouse, still as a statue. Just like him.
He started to discriminate the mixed-in scents. The strawberry was from her hair, and the sweater she wore over plain jeans was perfumed with cherry blossoms.
Quite intriguing.
At that moment she lifted her head and flicked back her hair, catching sight of the dark figure sitting beside her.
He was positively amused as her expression froze, turned from solemn to terrified surprise, and nothing slipped her mouth except a squeak. Her emerald green eyes, wide and clear, were even more captivating even though they didn't have a scent.
She was standing on the grass in the next second, fury replacing her expression from earlier, as she jabbed a finger in his direction, and whispered loudly and angrily: "What the hell are you doing in my garden, you bastard?"
Starting with the names.
He looked at her innocently and politely, and gestured to the little door between the fence that outlined the garden and provided entrance. It was half open, indicating that someone had entered.
"The door was already open. I happened to go past and notice you here." Truth. "So I came."
She put her hands on either sides of her waist and gestured to the door again. "And now you go!"
He inclined his head to one side, facing her angry glare with a blameless expression. "I'm really sorry," he said, and stood up. "I saw you here alone and up late, so I thought maybe something was wrong…just came to help, in case. I'll get going now."
He turned to leave, but she stopped him. Ha, like he could be refused like that.
"Hm?"
"Who are you?" she asked firmly, her arms now folded across her chest.
"Oh, my apologies. They call me Uchiha Itachi. Should have told you that earlier. And may I know your name?"
He could see how she was softening, after his genuine explanation of seeking to help her out, after a tiny act of being a kind gentleman. Girls loved that kind of man.
"Haruno Sakura."
Suitable name.
"You're from the village?" She added as she retook her seat on the fountain, crossing her legs. Her expression was clear now; she seemed satisfied that the courteous intruder was neither a sadist or a kidnapper or someone of that kind, but a sympathetic chap. "Uchiha…I know that name. Quite popular."
She tittered, and he got the whiff of the other scent – vanilla. From her mouth.
"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged and lounged beside her with the same space between.
"Aren't Uchihas supposed to be like cold and silent and disinterested-type?" She asked amusedly. "See, one of them used to go to my school, and he was usually like that."
He managed a tiny grin. "No, everyone chooses their own mannerism. I'm simply like I am." Lies. Just for the women. "We Uchihas are just proud of ourselves."
"That, I've heard and seen."
They talked a bit, casual and light conversation, just apparent details about each other. That took ten minutes.
There was a profound silence between them for the next forty-five seconds, as his quick brain evaluated. Then he decided to say some more, or the situation would take to nothing.
"So what are you doing here at this late hour, Sakura-san?"
She looked at him from the corner of his eye. "I could ask you the same question."
He chortled lightly. "I go for midnight walks every night." He shrugged. "That's not dangerous or anything, I can take care of myself."
"Well, I can, too."
We'll see about that, he thought and added, "So…?"
She sighed, giving off another of that irresistible sweet smell, which intensified as the soft breeze blew her pink tendrils in his direction, making him stiffen for just a nanosecond before he composed himself to the civil, comfortable gentleman. She tilted her head back and gazed up at the full moon, her green eyes immaculate in its glow.
He waited. His patience was rewarded.
"I've…problems at my house."
"Parental?"
She looked at him sharply. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"How bad is it?" He asked softly, and his question made her close her eyes. Another long minute passed.
"I hear them fighting every night in their room. I haven't had a proper conversation with them for the past three months."
"That sounds complicated," he responded sympathetically.
"It is." Now that she had started, she couldn't seem to stop. "Mom is asking for…divorce." She took a deep breath. "Dad is in agreement, for that part."
"Oh."
"…It's about custody. They…want to keep me for themselves. I can't imagine it, being away from my mother and living with my dad, or the other way around. Even if I get neglected and all, they're my family."
He didn't know what to say but that was fine. Being silent sometimes was the best option. She wiped her hand on her cheek and got rid of the wetness glistening there.
He watched and then said, "Oh, Sakura-san. Things will get better." He added more intimately and purposefully, "Everything will be fine."
She sniffled and then smiled at him sadly and beautifully. "I guess I've really wanted to hear that. Hope it does."
He responded back with a tiny smile, and they both watched the flowers for some moments. That was nice.
"That's a really beautiful garden you've got here."
"Thanks. I and my mom take care of it. Those roses there…" He tuned her out as she talked proudly about the flowers and the plants they had developed. She went on for about five minutes until she fell quiet.
"I'm boring you, aren't I?"
"No," he said good-naturedly. "I was just looking around. So, Sakura-san. Do you know how risky it is to be up and about at midnight and talk to strangers?"
"Are you going to rape me?" She asked bluntly.
He chuckled darkly. "Of course not. But you really should keep that in mind, and be home at this hour. Who knows what's lurking out there? Just be cautious."
She nodded, disinterested. "Yeah, yeah, daddy, I know. I hear that all the time."
He couldn't wait any longer. That stunt was to make her comfortable here, but she could go back at any moment. He didn't want to be obvious. It was hard to resist it, as she pushed back her hair and he caught sight of the white neck: with these sharp eyes he could easily discern the blue and red veins, soft and pulsing with warm blood.
He scooted closer to her, but so inaudibly that she wouldn't detect.
"I think you should go inside," he said. "It's very late."
"No," she disagreed, slanting her head and closing her eyes in the same time. Her hair fell back and exposed her skin again, stimulating him. As if that wasn't enough, the wind gusted again, thrusting her scent in his direction more forcefully than before. He clenched his hand on his knee as he drew near.
"Why not. Your parents will be worried." His hand crept behind her, just few inches from her ear and her hair. She still didn't feel his presence so close to her.
"I think I'll enjoy the weather. It's so nice here. And it was nice talking to you. I have been cooped up in my house with no one to talk to since the holidays. Pleasant to take it out. Everything will be fine now, I hope…"
She broke midsentence when his mouth was only inches from her face. Her eyes shifted very slowly to him, but he was quicker than the human brain assessing danger. His sharp incisors sank in her throat in the same second as her mouth opened to scream and he snapped it shut.
Too bad. He didn't want her to see him in this state. She was quite a pretty thing, seeming delicate.
But the tang of her rich, warm blood erased everything else. He was internally glad there was no one around this night. Would have been a shame not to savor such a sweet creature and leave thirsty.
When he was through with her, none of the appealing scents of Haruno Sakura remained.
"I told you it was risky to talk to strangers at midnight, Sakura-san."
A/N: i wrote this a long while ago so I HAD to post it. (Don't forget to read Homecoming Queen, ch3 is up! its also a horror story)
Please do review!
edit_7/12/13