"If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."
—James Herriot
Tenten wiped her hands over her face wearily and stared back at the photographs scattered on the table between them. They seem to glare up at her in black and white.
Eyes the colour of raven wings stared out from the photo paper with great darkness resembling cold, autumn nights and starless skies where life seemed galaxies away. They seemed to match the way his scowl suggested he felt towards the world; cold and dark. And yet she found herself looking into the abyss until it looked back.
She wanted to take her eyes off him but the flair that was happening in the pit of her stomach was stopping her from looking away. He looked so bone-shiveringly—breathtakingly devastating and perfect.
Itachi shot her a wry smile. "Drink in the sight of him while he is still whole—"
Tenten sipped her wine to hide her own smile. Curt, cut and dry as always, she mused. "Why is that?"
"—because the next time you see him, I want his head to come off in your hands." He couldn't help the growl in his response or the command in his voice.
Anxiety and intrigue mingled with the thrill of a potential kill in Tenten's gut. "Who is he?"
He held her gaze with his cool black eyes. "He's your next assignment," Itachi paused, as if contemplating whether to say more or not. He decided against the latter. "And my younger brother."
Had she not been practiced enough, shock might've had her spitting wine all over their lavish dinner, but Tenten swallowed tightly. Itachi was used to her maintaining a cool detachment to her targets, after all.
When she had made her first kill at age seventeen he savagely told her to never think of her victims and that if she absolutely had to she ought to think of them as being already dead—walking meat bags waiting to be despatched to the butcher.
His ruthlessness shocked her at first because she had only ever been exposed to the soft and compassionate side of Itachi. The side that rescued her. Rescued her from the life which had awaited her the moment she came off the boat and set foot on Amegakure's soil.
Amegakure was a significant destination and transit country for persons trafficked for labour and sexual exploitation from regional and neighbouring cities in the Fire Country. Its government is said to have made efforts to combat trafficking but has also been criticized for not complying with the minimum standards for eliminating it. Popular belief had it that it was the city's main source of income. A large and increasing number of women from different cities, Suna, Kiri, Konoha and Iwa til date still work as prostitutes in Amegakure.
When she was younger Tenten had heard tales of trafficking of children and of child sex tourism in the city but had never believed it. Had never believed her own government would contribute to the popularity of the practice by selling it's own into such sexual servitude. Unknown to most, Konohagakure was the main source of sex workers and earned top dollars from their sale.
Orphans like her, the homeless and other beneficiaries of the state were thought to absorb a lot of the taxes. Taxes that could've otherwise been used to further develop the city, it was argued. To counter this the government of Konoha decided to turn them into revenue earners rather than have them "leech off the system". And so, Tenten along with a boat load of young girls who weren't important to anyone, were sold.
Amegakure was not the paradise they had been assured it would be. Fortunately or unfortunately for Tenten, when the boat docked at the coast of a small industrial town, they walked in on an altercation between Amegakure's most feared asset—the Akatsuki—and Otogakure, the city's biggest competitors in the trafficking business. Apparently Orochimaru had heard of the "new stock" that was coming in and wanted to intercept.
That night amounted to mass murder. The Akatsuki might've come out of battle with fewer casualties but aside from Tenten, the "merchandise" was lost. If there had been a victor, it would've been Karma.
The stench of blood had filled the air. Throats had been cut and bodies laid like butchered animals in a waste of blood. Some had bullet holes puncturing their skulls, others had heads that were almost cleft from the bodies with great mats of blood spreading like bibs across their chests.
It had been a nightmare.
But Itachi had been there with her, for her.
She was only twelve. He had been the Akatsuki's newest recruit and perhaps not as seasoned into the callousness. His partner Kisame, a giant of a man, had suggested that they killed her and reported the "batch" to have been defective (plagued by disease) because he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Leader-sama that they had failed him.
Coming to think of it, Itachi had mentioned something about having a kid brother that night, Tenten reflected. He had, right before he took her small hands in his own and disgustedly declared that Konoha was corrupt and needed to be wiped out of existence.
It was hypocritical if you asked her, considering Itachi's loyalties lay with the very people Konoha sold it's girls to. He might've been just as, if not, a little more naive than her if he thought most women sold sex by choice.
Still, it had been nice to have someone sympathize with her for once.
That night she pledged an allegiance to the Akatsuki—or at least, an allegiance to their cause. That was to see both Konoha and Oto go up in flames.
It took their leader a while to the warm up to the idea of having a kid—who was meant to be inventory—hanging around. But when he did, he took a strange liking to her. In fact, she had found more comfort in Pein's prep talk about the first kill than in Itachi's.
He said she was to think of each victim as meeting their destiny and herself as merely the conduit. Everyone had to die sometime, he told her, and she should consider it a good way to go. No illness, no drawn-out goodbyes. They were just happy and oblivious one second and gone the next.
Simple.
Convenient.
Painless.
But this kill would be different.
"Your brother?" Tenten repeated stupidly.
Staring back at her was a man who seemed to burn holes in her.
For several seconds, Itachi's intense animal quality held her quite still. It was the eyes that mesmerized her, glowering out black and full of malevolence from under lowered brows. They captured her, drew her to him as surely as if she were being tugged on a rope like a slave.
She tapped on the picture.
"He's quite a looker. What has he done to you? Steal your girlfriend?" Tenten hazarded, seeing the possibility instantly but felt quite unreasonably disturbed.
How infuriating. Her self-respect, her female pride was ruffled. What was the need to acknowledge his good looks? Of course he would be good looking, he's Itachi's kid brother she reasoned to herself.
"He's not your type, so—no." Itachi sounded strangely amused.
Her heart fluttered though she knew he was only teasing.
"If he isn't my type I don't see why you would be―" she said wryly, gawking at him without having conjured the will to do so.
Wide shoulders. An expensively toned torso beneath that expensively tailored black suit. Dark as the devil. And faint lines slashed into an inch or so beneath his eyes, lending him a disquieteningly exciting air of wickedness.
Entirely against her will, she found herself looking at the photograph again. Two-dimensional or not, his brother looked ready to leap out from the glossy paper at any moment and tear her apart for merely looking at him. Fierceness it would seem, was not lost on the young Uchiha.
"―you two could pass for twins born years apart."
Itachi leaned forward, sliding another brown folder towards her. "You leave tomorrow."
"So soon?" Tenten blinked up at him for a second in confusion. A lick of thick, dark brown hair glossed over the delicate fingers on which she'd propped her forehead as she concentrated on the folder in front of her, "Without any prep at all?"
"I was getting to that," he rose to his feet. "Follow me and bring the wine."
Frowning at his brusque command, Tenten obeyed. She kept pace, trying not to spill their drinks, as he took the polished stairs two at a time. "Where are we going?"
He ignored her and strode along the hallway, boot heels tapping on the wooden flooring, until he was pushing a door open with his hip.
"Your room?" Tenten caught her lip between her teeth and felt the blush of heat all over her body.
How much had she drank?
She lived with Itachi for ten years and he had never hinted such inclinations towards her—thought for most of that time she was a minor—so it was ridiculous for her to be harbouring thoughts of this nature.
Once it was open, she simply stood and looked around. His room was very different from the one he had given to her when he took her under his tutelage.
It was simple and uncluttered. He hung no paintings here, not even his own. Her curious gaze found white walls and dark wood trim and on the ceiling a plaster rose from which descended a lovely blown-glass chandelier. The carpet was old but good, its colours so dark she could barely make out a pattern.
The light from the hall sconce lit the nearer objects of the room. Her eyes went to his huge bed, one corner of which stood out from the shadows. She could tell its origin from the pattern of squares and circles that formed the frame. No hangings draped it. Instead, six slim posts supported an elegant wooden roof. The structure resembled an open cage, as if Itachi were a circus animal no one thought was very dangerous.
That, of course, was patently untrue.
Her body tightened, the further into the room she got. The bed suddenly seem to loom as big as a cricket ground, the posts like spears, the quilt a stark white field of snow. For one bizarre moment she pictured herself lying across it, impaled like a dying soldier, and shuddered involuntary.
"This mission is personal," he took the glasses from her hand and set them on the dresser. "It requires a different kind prep."
His words, rasped low, shivered through her.
"You're to become my brother's mistress for one week."
Suddenly she felt as if the walls of the room had moved in closer, crushing out some of the oxygen in the air. Her mouth fell open, surprised, and wordless.
He took a step toward her and touched the bare skin of her upper arms with his palms. Heat gathered in her chest as he slid his forearms around her back, encasing her—trapping her—in his embrace. "I don't suppose you'd want Sasori to prep you for something of this nature."
The shocking idea of being anyone's mistress—even for a single minute—should make her run screaming. But she didn't feel like struggling. It was after all Itachi. She had complete and total trust in him. Any mission undertaken by him or proposed by him was always in the interest of the greater good.
Who was she to question why he wanted his brother out of the way?
His face hovered inches from hers, his spicy male smell a sweet torment. She watched his mouth, serious and sensual at the same time. He studied her, those appraising black eyes taking in every feature of her face with rapt concentration.
Then, very slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.
Her mouth hummed with anticipation as he grew closer. For an instant he hovered there, an infinitesimal distance between them, as excitement gathered like a storm.
His tongue flicked once over her mouth, sparking a flash of longing. Too experienced, warm, with a hint of pure male determination, his lips covered hers and immediately set fire to her senses.
Pineapple glazed ham and red wine.
He tasted like pineapple glazed ham and red wine.
His free hand cupped the side of her face and his thumb pressed at the tip of her chin, parting her lips further as his settled deeper into the kiss.
Tenten gasped. Outside her imagination she had never been kissed before.
Itachi's lips plundered hers erotically. They licked over the plumped curves as his kiss assured her that he knew exactly what he was doing. And he knew exactly how to make it so damned good that she had no choice but to enjoy it.
And she was definitely enjoying it. Her whole body was enjoying it. She was too bemused to think of anything but him, anything but the searing heat of his mouth.
Then she was in his arms and against the urgent demands of his body, all to aware of the violent reaction he was having towards her that he wasn't even trying to disguise. Not that he could, she thought unsteadily, imagining how hot and heavy he'd feel pressing her into the mattress. How hot and heavy and hard he would feel sliding into her.
She opened her legs almost instinctively and pressed her body against his. Her breasts stirred at the pleasure of being crushed against him. His palms swept over her until every inch of her skin was alive and tingling.
When their lips finally parted she gasped for air.
"At the end of that one week I want you to kill him," His eyes took on a wicked gleam.
Tenten bit her lip—shivering. It wasn't the assassination part of the mission that she had a problem with. Killing was second nature to her. "His mi-mistress?" she asked belatedly, almost too soft to hear. "I'm not very experienced in that regard."
She was a killer, not a seductress.
Itachi rubbed her from wrist to shoulder, reveling in the soft perfection of her skin. "Ah, Tenten," His thumb moved sensuously against the fine bones that defined her throat. "The only experience you'll need is the kind we'll make together."
There's nothing to fear, she assured herself. She had wanted this since she was sixteen—wanted Itachi. Who better to reveal the secrets that were hidden behind closed doors? Besides, if Hidan's exasperated tales were reliable, she had nothing to worry about. She had climbed too many trees and ridden too many horses astride to be left with anything more than a virgin's ignorance.
Inexperience, she corrected with a firm, outward breath. True ignorance hadn't been an issue since she was twelve and sold to become a sex slave.
A few discarded garments later she was clutching Itachi so closely he had to lower them both to the mattress together. He pressed her down beneath him, knowing he might be heavy but unable to resist. Her smallness drove him wild, but her strength made him fearless. He felt as if he could crush her, ravish her, and she would only moan for more. Because he had trained her that way—to never deny him anything.
When her release came it ripped through her like a vicious storm, shaking her from her head to her toes, pouring through her senses with a downpour of rapture that rained through her entire body.
Tenten could feel herself opening, a part of herself she hadn't known existed fractured inside her soul. As though some inner wall were all but falling to rubble as the heat enveloping her seemed to pour from him, into her, then back again. It had been like an expanding of sensitivity, and ultimately a satisfaction so intense, she'd cried for the beauty of the experience and knowledge.
Experience and knowledge she would use to destroy his brother...
A/N: I'm posting this story to commence 2016's Tenten Week. Its a short story with four parts, each of which will be posted every Sunday until the 27th of March. This fic is not for the faint hearted...just saying ;) Thank you for reading. Reviews are always appreciated. I'll love you forever.