Summary:
He is a mercenary. She is an assassin. It all started with a friendly game of tag. AU
Warning: OOC, AU, violence, swearing, ect.
Pairing: SasuIno
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It started in the winter.
This game of theirs, of course, started in winter. The snow was thick he remembers, he also remembers her and how they met of course. Although it wasn't, it seems like it was just yesterday they met.
It's like a pill of sorts for him, thick, hard to swallow, unbearable bitter aftertaste. The water you need to help down the pill is like the oxygen, the air he needs to calm his nerves, a temperament of sorts, at just the thought of her.
She is a nuisance, distracting him, always. This he knows.
If he's being honest he's been a bit sloppy lately with his work. Losing sight of targets, missing vital organs by centimeters, sloppy at best. He's not someone for placing blame, but she'd be at the top of his list, really.
He narrows it down to not having seen a glimpse of her in over half a year almost. He's not one for frivolous things, but he's a teenage boy, albeit abnormal he still has hormones. He still has urges, which she fulfills-.. Well used to fulfill, and he used to be grateful if only slightly, all of this used to happen. It doesn't anymore and now he's not so grateful.
He thinks it's unfair, really, Sasuke does. She gives him some sort of balance then snatches the rug beneath his feet. Throws him off, then leaves without a trace or a warning, not that he needed any, at least that's what he likes to think. Any normal person would be perturbed by a change in routine, and while he is abnormal, Sasuke is still very much perturbed.
Not that he's some mother hen, because he's anything but nurturing. He kills people for a living so he doubts he's the epitome of loving, and nurturing.
He's not worried about her, though. She is proficient in her profession, deft with her hands. Her finesse in execution is nothing to bat a lash at, unlike his which lacks delicacy, but he's not gonna down himself because they're from two different leagues.
Killers, murderers with different intentions.
His intent is the will of whoever is paying him, not that he allows them any control over him, because in the end it's his blade that does the killing. However, whether they want a bloodbath or minimal bloodshed, gore everywhere, or a seemingly natural death is entirely up to whoever is willing to give up the coin.
They do not control him, though. He has the right to refuse, he doesn't, but he can. This is his hobby, not a profession. He likes to think of himself as a natural born killer, sue him.
Her end of the spectrum is entirely different.
If he is to be blunt, she is a walking contradiction.
In the light of day her features are soft. Smooth peachy skin, soft blonde hair swaying down her back, a button nose, blue doe eyes framed by thick lashes, pink lips set in a playful pout; soft at best, Sasuke thinks.
It is only a facade though, because as soon as the sun starts to sink she slips on a mask of sorts. It is intricate, yet obscure enough for her that is. The mask is one of divergence.
She becomes stoic, quiet. Acquiescent in the hand of her hire, because it is her job, nothing more. The dexterity she displays in her line of work has earned her quite the recognition as one of the most feared assassins, but he's nothing to wave off either as he is quite talked about in the undergrounds.
Her eccentric, black garb always bore a long slit in the back displaying a lengthy scar down the spinal column of her back. How people know about it, Sasuke has no idea, because does not allow mercy, at least not while donning such an intricate mask.
Yet they knew not of the tears she shed after a fresh kill, the dropping of her knees, the clasping of her hands. The repugnant whimpers and distasteful, rapid whispers.
Oh, how she prayed for her own wicked soul.
He had asked her once, out of dubious curiosity.
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"You pray for your self and not those you have murdered in cold blood" That was as close to asking as it got for him. They were leaning against a tree on the edge of the forest, watching the sun sink below the horizon. Her mask creeping on slowly. He felt it best to ask before she completely succumbed to it.
"You cannot pray for those tainted by the wickedness" She stated simply, before noticing the slight raise of his brow.
"My profession is not wicked, but I am not. Besides, I pray for guidance not forgiveness. There is not forgiveness for killers, ne?"
There was a small pause in which she sighed and returned to watching the sun set. However, his gaze remained fixated on her and the tensing of her shoulders.
"You are a hypocrite" He decided,liking the way her head whipped in his direction, eyes blazing with retained fierceness. He quite enjoyed teasing her, getting her all worked up. It amused him, really.
"And you do not pray at all" She snapped in a hushed tone, lips pursing afterward on a sour grin.
"There is no purpose" He smirked, relishing in the way her grin faltered slightly, if only.
"You kill people for money"she remarked as if stating the obvious, which she was, but he would not give her the decency.
"And you do not?"
"No" She responded, simply.
"Declining payment does not make you a saint" He started, growing agitated with her hypocritical attitude. Who was she to judge him when she was doing the same damn thing?
"And prayer makes me a better sinner" She retorted, ending the oncoming dispute.
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"Hypocrite!" He grunted, clenching the purple cloth tied around the hilt of his sword. Ironically it had never a hint of blood on it. Grudgingly, Sasuke considered it his own silent prayer, as he tended to clutch it in moments of desperation, nightmares, or simply, memories of her.
Whenever he is fed up with her, he is never completely done with it, the cloth that is.
She had tied it around his sword one day while they were walking the streets of some foreign village. She was in her civilian garb ad he remembered the looks they got. She was in her civilian garb at the time and he looked anything but approachable.
He never took it off, he just couldn't be bothered he reasoned, but now she's gone and left him with the stupid, frivolous thing.
It's just unfair, really.
"Talking to inanimate objects are we now, Sasuke?"
His eyes snap open momentarily before he kicks into full gear.
'six months' He thinks bitterly.
In an instance he has his hands tight around her throat as she slams her full force into the splinter ridden walls of the musky inn. Without missing a beat her legs wrap tightly around his waist, a silent threat at best.
"Miss me?" She inquires, tilting her head so that her bangs fall onto her face, eyes dancing with mischief.
Her legs loosen around his waist and he removes his grip on her neck, just barely she manages to catch herself, barely.
He turns his back to her and without giving her a chance to recover swings his sword backwards with every intention of beheading her. Her eyes widen momentarily as if genuinely caught off guard before she completely disappears.
He brings his arm forward when he feels hands on his shoulders and silent giggles, and arches it backwards, successfully elbowing her.
He had the decency to smirk as she grunted and dropped to the floor, clutching her stomach.
"Dammit Sasuke" She swore.
Ignoring her moans of pain he scooped her up and dumped her onto the mattress, ignoring her protests as she bounced on the mattress helplessly.
She stopped abruptly when she noticed the purple cloth tied on the hilt of his sword as he placed it under the pillows.
"Hey! You still have it" She exclaimed. It wasn't a gleeful, joyous exclamation as it should be because they both knew the hidden meaning behind it.
The purple cloth represented Ino in more ways than one, as much as both of them wished otherwise.
"I-.." She started, hesitantly. She always wanted to address it, the burden that sat heavily on the both of them. As much as they both wished a love between an assassin of her stature and a mercenary of his sorts so natural, so simple, it just wasn't.
It is never so simple.
"-Goodnight Ino" Came his mumbled interruption. He didn't want things to get that deep, at least not just yet. He wanted it to remain as simple as it could, milk every moment with her of it's bliss before it all came crashing down in a mess of complexity, tragedy.
He's had enough tragedy to last him a lifetime. For now, he's content with the bout of bliss he has with her, if only a little. Because as much as he wishes you could, you cannot avoid the inevitable.
A small silence fell over the pair as she watched him strip of his shirt and climb under the sheets, presenting her a view of his pale, milky back bathed in the moonlight from the window. She shuffled forward slightly, wrapping her arms around his neck lightly, feeling some of his tension fade.
".. Goodnight Sasuke" She murmured, burying her face in the nape of his neck.
There they lay.
The assassin clutching the needles laced with poison strapped to her wrist, the mercenary fingering his blade under the pillows. Eyes fluttering closed, relaxing into the warm of the intimacy between the two.
Both falling asleep with thoughts of how to end the other.
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(A/N):
Feedback appreciated :)