AN: Sword Whisperer redefined. Thanks for waiting. In the end I decided to start anew with this story. Many of my other stories will be going through this process.
Summary: "I hear you, really I do." If only she couldn't. Dark. SasuSaku Two shot.
A wet, rusty cough wheezed out from the aged swordsmith's throat. He halted his work and laid his tools down in irritation. His workshop was dim from the setting sun, but in the back corner there was the slightest of movements. He paid little mind to it. Whatever moved had quickly revealed itself to the swordsmith's eyes by stepping into the fire's light. It was merely his servant girl. He blinked his foggy eyes at her as she kneeled before him and set down a cup of warm green tea with soothing honey.
"Honeyed green tea, Master… For your throat." The worried girl pushed to cup to her master. "Please drink."
"Throat… I want to slit!"
A tense silence settled into the small workshop, only disturbed by the crackling of the fire. The swordsmith couldn't hear the spiteful words, but the girl could. Her brow creased and she nervously shifted her folded legs.
The swordsmith took the hot brew offered and sipped it carefully, mindful of the temperature. As he swallowed gratefully, his old eyes met hers. He always seemed to forget about his servant whenever he threw himself into his work.
"Girl, why do you just sit in this broken, old workshop and watch?"
The girl did not answer. But as she spotted the odd gleam in her master's eyes she realized that she should have just attended to the rest of her chores.
"'Just watch?"
"I BURN!"
The girl in question wrapped a tendril of hair around her pale fingers, and blinked her pastel eyes at him. She knew that she had to be careful with her answer, less he discover her true purpose and either kick her out or kill her.
"I like to watch you forge, Master. There's not much else I can do once I finish a day's work."
The swordsmith sighed.
She was obsessed! She was obsessed! She was OBSESSED!
"Sssss…."
He closed his tired eyes for a moment.
"That may be true. If you were not a woman, I would have considered teaching you my art."
"Woman"
"Sheath"
"Tight"
The girl swallowed dryly.
The swordsmith took another sip and cleared his throat before continuing.
"But that matter is neither here nor now. We cannot change what has been done to us. As you were, girl."
The swordsmith didn't feel inclined to elaborate anymore on his statement to her, but instead eyed her. Just as always, she was a vision of her name-sake, Sakura. She had hair as pink as watered down blood and her eyes were grass, but what most irked him was her arms. Her arms seemed no thicker than twigs. It was obvious that she would never be of any physical use to him in this state. His art was too unforgiving for the fairer gender.
Under his scrutiny, Sakura's eyes fell onto his latest creation, still burning bright red with heat. The swordsmith knew that it was speaking to her, and wondered what was being said. Sakura seemed to be more absorbed with this sword than any other that he had created. What character did this one possess that drew her so extensively? She spoke then, as if she knew what he was thinking.
"Cold…. This one says that it is cold."
His eyes also fell to the creation. A sneer almost met his lips. Her special ability made the swordsmith especially bitter that she was an ineligible candidate to become his apprentice. He could only imagine what kind ofsword he could create if he could just speak to them like she could.
Finally, he replied to her, already knowing what her reaction would be.
"And that is how things will remain. I have no more work to do with this one."
Surprise glinted in her green eyes and she grabbed her own sleeves in response.
"Cold"
"Why?"
"It is…finished then?"
He grunted in affirmation.
Sakura frowned. This one…. There was something horribly wrong with this sword. It kept saying things. Awful things. But it drew her in like no other.
"Look closely, girl. This is one of my finest creations. It will be called Kusanagi."
Sakura did as she was told, and admired. Kusanagi was sleek, with an all white scabbard and deadly spine of black. Her Master had made no similar design. This was definitely one-of-a-kind.
The swordbasked in all the attention.
"This one seems to like your attentions very much."
"Yessss"
"Tell me, girl. What is Kusanagi like?"
Sakura glanced in the corner, where she knew she would see one of his older creations, Haku. She clearly remembered the response she made the day he asked her about Haku's temperament.
"This sword is peaceful. Haku wishes to solve conflict and please its wielder."
She desperately wished she could say the same for this one.
But… ever since the beginning of Kusanagi's forging, things were… different. Sakura wanted to tell him, but what if she offended her master? What if he kicked her out? Sakura dreaded the possibilities.
The swordsmith grew impatient with her silence.
"I grow weary of your insolence. I will ask again tomorrow. Be sure to clean up well tonight. "
With that he turned to leave without her response.
"Yes Master. Goodnight," she said, though he was already gone.
"Yes Master"
"Goooood night"
Sakura frowned at the sword's mocking tone. "That's not very nice, Kusanagi," she mumbled, using the sword's name for the first time. It was like the sweetest of honeys on her tongue. She bit down on it.
The sword didn't respond to her scolding, but she could feel amusement emitting from its aura.
With a tense sigh, Sakura used the rest of the hot water to brew herself some tea. Her first sip was too quick, and she winced as the heat scalded her tongue. She blew on it and let herself relax.
Kusanagi stayed silent and observed.
"At least my hands are warm now," she murmured to herself in relief. She had poor circulation, and lost temperature in her limbs easily.
Before her, the fire died slowly. Slowly. So slowly… Her mind grew drowsy, despite her inner self nagging that she should hurry away before Kusanagi made her comfort level drop. If it could pull at her so intensely before the forgery was finished, Sakura didn't want to think about what it could do now. In the corner of her mind she felt the sword gnawing at her mind, trying to break through.
"Touch"
"Me"
"I Want fire"
Sakura jumped at the words, and shifted away. Her warmed fingers slid to massage her toes, where her circulation had failed her once again.
This was no good. As a woman, Sakura was not to touch a man's sword without explicit consent. "I …I can't," she said as firmly as possible.
"Touch"
"Me"
"Now"
"I'm… that's not such a good idea. Only the one who wields you should be…." She trailed off and averted her eyes. She could never be a wielder. It was wrong for her to touch. It might forge a link and if that happened….
Sakura's train of thought was abruptly brought to a halt when Kusanagi finally made itself to the forefront of her mind, and she felt a twinge. The pang hit her, and compulsively, her hand made its way to the silver of itsblade. Kusanagi was starving for warmth, and pushed its will upon her. At first it was just a twinge. Then slowly but surely, the twinge became a throbbing. "Maybe, if I don't touch the hilt, it will be fine?" She asked herself insecurely.
"Sssss"
Her finger's slid along lightly at first, caressing the blade's dull regions. When a curl of fog seeped into her consciousness, her index finger traced a path to the sharpness, and her breath caught in her throat. The blade hissed to her in encouragement. Her thighs parted. She slid the base of her palm completely around the blade and squeezed firmly. The sensation was delightful. It was strong, metallic, and smooth like nothing else. Something from within her began to build up, and made her grip on Kusanagi grow tighter and tighter. Then-
*CLANG*
The noise of something falling broke the sudden spell that held Sakura, and she leapt away from Kusanagi as if it were poison to the touch. From her shame-riddled eyes, she could see that Haku had fallen on its side. Without even a glance at Kusanagi, Sakura quickly doused what was left of the flames and fled the workshop.
The flare of Kusanagi's fury licked at her heels.
"Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssss"
Sakura awoke shivering and soaked in her own sweat. Kusanagi's hissing had plagued her dreams again last night. Her fingers found the edge of her temples and she curled into herself as tightly as she possibly could.
How long would it be until she was allowed to forget what she had done? What was she thinking when she touched that wretched creation? She just wanted to lay under her bedding forever and forget it all. But dawn had arrived, and she didn't have any time for regret in the face of her master.
Rolling onto her knees, Sakura hurriedly dressed and ventured off to do to her chores. The monotony of scrubbing wood and drying linens always helped to ease her stress. There was no thought to it and she could find peace in that.
A warm breeze in the air told her that the winter season was finally ending, and she allowed herself to relax.
"Sakura"
She startled at the sound. Her master peered down at her with his fire-reddened face. He had started work early today. Sakura shifted her weight to the other side and awaited his orders. He rarely sought her out. A lump rose in her throat as she contemplated the idea of him knowing what terrible sin she had committed against her master by touching his creation.
The relationship between a man and his sword was too sacred. To infringe upon it was just so…wrong… and Sakura could tell now from her touch just how sinister Kusanagi was.
Her master, took no note in Sakura's current discomfort though.
"I wish to know now. What is Kusanagi's temperament? I must find an appropriate wielder."
Sakura swallowed heavily, knowing that she had avoided his question long enough.
"Kusanagi has a very…unusual nature. Anyone else of an unusual nature is surely compatible."
He blinked slowly at her reply, and then lifted a contemplative finger to his chin.
Sakura wanted Kusanagi gone from this place, and more importantly gone from her life. It was making her sick with obsession.
"I think I know what to do then."
The wave of relief that hit Sakura was so hard that it almost knocked her off her feet. Maybe things could go back to normal. She was tired of the whispering in her head, constant, unyielding, and intrinsically evil. It was a shame that she didn't realize how she would regret this lie so thoroughly and so soon.
It led to her master's demise.
She had just returned from her errands in town when she saw the horses grazing on the grass, as if their presence wasn't an oddity. Hearing her approach, the horses glanced uninterestedly at her with twitching ears, before dropping their thick necks to continue feeding. With knitted brows, Sakura passed the animals and stood at the closed entrance to the shop.
Her master usually told her exactly when to expect customers, but this one had been unannounced. At least Kusanagi would finally be gone. She wouldn't feel any more tugs against her mind, willing for her to do wrong. She straightened her shoulders out of resolution and decided to take the back door into the tiny kitchen area, in order to avoid interrupting anything. Her Master disapproved of her direct presence when potential or returning clients were near. Her status as a female made it inappropriate.
She glanced suspiciously at the horses' once more, taking note of their expensive and efficient-looking saddles. Unusually large ropes of a lavender color seemed to fasten them on.
It was peculiar.
The faint sounds of conversation met Sakura as she entered the small kitchen area. Not dwelling on the noise, she began silently putting away the food. It was not within her immediate interest to cause a commotion. Once she put the kettle on the fire, her mind had completely settled.
The kettle whistled a mere few minutes later, and Sakura was forced to stop slicing the eel. The barely audible voices of the adjacent room faded for some reason.
"Girl," her master called out with gravel in his tone, "bring the tea out to my guest." Sakura immediately responded to the command, not knowing how many people to expect. She sat several cups on a tray and entered the room kneeling.
All eyes landed upon her, but Sakura made sure not to meet anyone's gaze. A hiss caught her attention, and she tensed. From her peripheral vision, she could see a particularly long-haired man with a sickly complexion caressing Kusanagi's smooth hilt. It made her nauseous with jealousy, and she hated it.
She suppressed the urge to return to the kitchen and poison his cup.
Once she began to serve the tea, the men returned to their conversation, disregarding her. Sakura took the chance to glance around and count the men, realizing she was short two cups. It hadn't taken her long to retrieve two more cups. However, once she returned; she found the atmosphere to be much more hostile. The conversation only drifted between two men now, her master and the sickly-looking man. She briefly kneeled beside the man, presenting him with his cup of tea. As she poured the tea, he didn't give her a single glance. He effortlessly continued speaking.
"You've chosen well to give me this, Sarutobi." The sickly-looking man hissed out.
Her master scoffed.
"You should address your sensei more respectfully, Orochimaru."
The sickly man smiled, and Sakura couldn't help but fidget at the sight of his swollen and dark tongue wetting his thin, pale, lips. She retreated back into the kitchen area, and watched the scene unfold from a crack in the door.
She watched the ceremony of swordsthat was ritual for those receiving any swords, and felt unease slip into her bones. Kusanagi had something wrong with it, but so did this man. It was a disturbing and dangerous match.
But more than that, she hated seeing him touch Kusanagi.
When the witnesses stood and left to mount their horses, Orochimaru and her Master were left alone. "This is the greatest creation I have made yet," her Master commented to himself in the room.
"…Yet?"
An abnormal look arose from Orochimaru's sunken features.
"Yes, my next creation will be twice as powerful."
Sakura held back a gasp as the whites of Orochimaru's eyes bulged. She felt the sword and wielder synch for the first time.
It was a terrible combination. Nothing but blazing fury from Kusanagi's aura at the idea of being outdone met the acute need for violence and the urge to destroy.
It was a swift and silent death that met her master. One moment he was fine and then the next, his throat was slit to the bone. The gurgling lasted only a second, before it ceased, and her master's body slumped to one side. Blood dripped from the gaping wound that created a grotesque smile on her master's neck.
It was when Orochimaru's salivating mouth opened monstrously wide as he swallowed Kusanagi that Sakura finally screamed. Her vision blacked out and she fell to the ground.
What had she done?
to be continued...