The Lady Foul
Summary: …and her skin was white, like paper, and he knew that if he mixed in the night, he could mould her into the gray. Sasuke/Hinata.
Pairing: Sasuke/ Hinata and slight Sasuke/Naruto
AU fic. Reviews are appretiated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters.
Rated M for a reason.
Case 1: It's a State of Mind
It surrounded him like a blanket - the darkness that is – and stretched so deep into his skin that he could feel it settle in his throat; the fine bones clenched under a vice he could not hear nor taste. And in that sense, he felt the sudden urge to reach out and claw his face, breaking apart each layer until it was a mess of blood and silk under him; then he'd rise like a staged butterfly, shivering in himself. A constant buzz was in his ear, and if he listened hard enough – not that he would make the attempt – it sounded like a high-pitched ringing.
Even as that thought passed like a smoothly curved line – ink on paper – he found himself pitching forward; an almost noticeable sway before he adjusted himself upright once more, though sluggishly.
Everything was new around him.
In that moment, a stray of black hung forward into his eyes, and he was half-tempted to cry, but his voice was already ragged and by the time he'd realized that it was only a strand of his hair, he was on the ground and the high-pitched ringing was discerned to be his screaming; a keening wail that sounded part monster and part beast.
He could have easily, at that moment, stopped the sound or attempt to close his mouth, but he just wanted it to stop and nimble fingers clamped around his ears and he curled into himself into the ground - it was wooden, he could tell – and waited, all trembling and sinew muscles, waiting for it to swallow him whole.
There was a soft tenor in the air, and it sounded for a second like the rumbling of the fan that was used in the grounds during the summer to heat its occupant, but they were gone, weren't they? And the laughter kept getting louder, and an irrational, insane and scared part of him wanted to continue that ridiculous screaming just to block out the sound, and possibly, maybe choke on his spit long enough so that he could lay in a fitful rest.
"Foolish little brother" and he was suddenly lifted off the ground, and for a delirious moment, he believed that he was flying, but then he realized that his neck hurt and his feet weren't quite leaving the wood beneath him and the hands clenching him weren't gentle.
He choked on his spit and sputtered out a ragged cough that led into another violent fit, and he quaked in the too tight hold, the twisting only further hurting him. He couldn't breathe.
"Useless" and he looked up, half pleading-bleary eyes and monochromatic scenery around him; the only thing present was the hands holding him up by the scruff of his neck, and they were stained a ruby red. The substance trailed down, an elegant flow that stained his navy blue shirt well enough that it at once turned a bit pink, before black.
"Always so weak" and the hands tightened and he had to snap his head up into those eyes to open his airway just a bit more to wheeze, and oh god, those eyes. They reflected him in them, large raven- hair matted with red and once pale skin, bathed in the color. From those pupils, those once warm ones that looked like dark chocolate dipped into honey were a pitch too cold and his head was cocked to the side as he held him, long raven hair falling to his side.
He held back a gasp; it would have come out as a gurgle.
"Br-brother," he managed, the words forming in stutters with incoherent whimpers in between, "w-why?"
And his brother gave that dazzling smirk, the ones that drew women towards him like magnets – even older women that his father whispered under his breath were 'cougars' who had no business in looking at him like that –and it reminded him of too warm summers and evenings with roaring fires and burning marshmallows.
Now, the image burnt into his young mind, once filled with a fond love for chocolate and racing in the park and playing in the mud in brand new clothes; now, it was drenched in red.
"Because you're weak" then he pulled him closer, almost as if it were an intimate embrace, but his grip was too tight and his skin wasn't clean, like when he got out of the shower and took moments to pinch his cheeks with an affectionate smile. He looked feral and agitated, but he was still smiling, and it just looked wrong, "so weak and defenseless"
"Itachi, brother, I-"
His brother smirked, amused – and he didn't want to remember how ugly it was, like he was not quite there, "Sasuke, brother,-" he mocked, and then turned to walk away.
Sasuke shivered and shook, his mind telling him to run, to flee while he was being spared, and he would have done just that if e hadn't seen the lifeless body in Itachi's way. Funny he had never seen it before.
The eldest stopped and tensed at the sight – almost as if he hadn't committed the crime and was seeing the gore plastered scene around him for the first time – and then, he kicked the body swiftly to the side. It rolled and laid a distance away; far enough that Sasuke wouldn't have to look at it, but close enough that he could smell the copper scent in the air, rich and piled with thickness that it weighted down on his throat; and this time he turned to the side and vomited in an effort to – well, he didn't quite know what – maybe empty himself and his emotions and his fear that was so palpable, he could taste its acidic tang on his tongue.
No, in fact, it was just the bile.
Itachi turned to watch the tirade, as if he could squeeze out more amusement before making a haste retreat. They lived in an isolated compound a distance away from civilization that when they had huge family parties, it was a blessing as neighbors who were miles away were less inclined to complain, but it was a prison for moments such as this. Money had its worth for the Uchiha's.
…or what was left…
Itachi laughed again and in mid laugh, he noticed the stains on his hand and wiped them mindlessly on his shirt, as if he had just finished a snack and was much too lazy to wash his hands.
"Bastard" Sasuke said, and it wasn't the first time that word had left his mouth, but in this moment, it meant everything that his brother knew that; that his stomach was queasy and spots were dancing in his vision, but he figured that it was a blinding rage and fear, instead of the evident shock.
"I-I'll ki-" and his voice cracked, and he let out another familiar keening wail, "I'll, I'll-" and he looked at the body that had been kicked so limp and lifeless, like a marionette – of course that was what it was, because it was a woman – but he swayed a little on his knees.
Then, Itachi was close to him, so close that at any other time, he would have been delighted and babble on about his day, but right now, all he could smell was death and tears and the blood and the vomit; it was disgusting.
"Kill perhaps?" he hummed, his diction elegant, as was common in the Uchiha's.
And he laughed again, "I'd like to see you try" and he turned and disappeared; Sasuke wondered how that had happened.
Or maybe it was because everything around him was suddenly black and he could only hear himself breathe. The buzzing in his ear had stopped, and he could almost feel every rise and fall of his chest, and even the gentle sizzling as his house was burned to the ground.
He couldn't see it though; he was sleeping.
There was a sweeter scent in the air when Sasuke woke up, -no, correction – a slightly more pleasant scent in the air. It smelled of anesthetics and sterilizers and the smell of warming food mixed in with sickness; it was an improvement, he supposed.
Two men in lab coats and three woman, one of them in a business suit, while the rest were in scrubs spoke quietly in front of his standard hospital bed, seemingly not noticing his awakened state.
He could faintly make out sentences.
"…can't believe he survived the ordeal" one of the men was saying.
"It's tragic that a young boy would have to go through something like this. He's only thirteen, it's not right" the woman in the business suit said.
There was a soft rustling of fabric.
A lower voice, this time. "It is, but the psyche analysis revealed nothing wrong with his older brother. Perhaps an unstable home resulting in the mass psychopathic murder?"
"Shikamaru!" the voice of the other woman in scrubs was chiding, though still barely above a whisper, "You make it sound like the whole family was filled with psychopaths."
The final woman who hadn't spoken voiced, "Well, the Uchiha's were a bit beyond normal. They practiced incest for god's sake and still followed that ridiculous law of blood purity and whatnot. It's no wonder one of their sons had a psychotic breakdown. No matter how careful they were to reduce complications, their DNA was far too closely linked. This one might be crazy too-"
The educated woman was cut off by a smoother voice, the other male perhaps, "Tenten, stop. We're not here to slander his family or their ideals. He's an orphan at this point and needs a placement before we find him a permanent home. He's a special case"
A scoff. The previous male drawled, Shikamaru perhaps, "No one is going to want to adopt him. The case was all over the news. The fact that his brother even left the kid alive hints at some kind of sick game. No one's gonna want him and-"
"Shikamaru!" that chiding female voice again.
It grated on Sasuke's nerves; he didn't need their pity.
Itachi, Itachi, Itachi,…I'll find you and…I'll…
The voices drowned before stopping all together, "Oh, he's awake" the chiding woman said and rushed towards him. She had pink hair, and it reminded him of the blood stain on his shirt before it had faded to black.
"Hey" she said gently and reached to touch his arm.
He let her.
"It's gonna be alright," she soothed, and her voice would have been calming if it wasn't for her cold hand pressed against his, covered in sterile gloves, and her smooth smile that was pasted on her face with professionalism and coldness, like a biting sword.
"It's going to be alright" this time she repeated it more firmly, as if the statement said in different context would make a difference.
He wanted to tell her that it didn't, but he kept his mouth shut and stared at her.
"And how do you feel today Sasuke?" there was a softness in the pink haired lady's countenance. Her name was Dr. Haruno, but she insisted that he call her Sakura. She felt younger that way, perhaps, though she looked no more than a day over twenty.
She was a genius, that much he knew at her obvious youth next to the seemingly older characters around her, so he responded just as smoothly, "Fine, Sakura" he made himself sound polite, but not enough to be on hugging terms with her.
She looked at him as if he were a two year old.
"I'm fourteen" he informed her and almost cursed. He had let his once careful nonchalant attitude slip at her stare; his chances of leaving now seemed slim.
Her amused smile threw him off for a second before she said, "Yes, I gathered" and there was no sarcasm; just a woman confirming what a male had just said.
"Can I go home now?" he finally found himself saying, "I know there's nothing there anymore, but I just want to see it, for closure" he said and stared at her earnestly; he found that if he did this enough, she would eventually bend and let him have the best pudding in the cafeteria before she would take him out and buy him chocolate. After trailing after her for the day, all docile and cute, she would take him back to the hospital where he would stay in his makeshift room, as he had been there for a while now.
One year exactly.
He was still waiting for a placement.
He didn't expect her to answer with a positive. The "Uchiha" topic was taboo.
But, she smiled, "I've actually got better news"
He waited for her continuation.
"I've got a placement for you." She broke into a grin, "he's a little eccentric and weird, but he's super nice and he'll just love you"
Sasuke held back a cringe. He hated when the words, 'super' and 'love' were too close together. It made him think of broken rocking chairs, blood red roses and parasites. His train of thought astounded him sometimes, and he could usually look inside on himself, like a separate spectator and analyze each word he was thinking of with interest; a lonely talent it was.
"…be here any minute"
He lost his glassy look. She was still speaking.
"Be sure to take your bags with you and we'll arrange for a seamless move. You'll be out of the hospital. Isn't that great?" and her grin was practically the epitome of a Cheshire's. "Of course, you can still come and visit, you know, the staff is fond of you and…"
He let her drone on in disinterest.
He thought about escaping to his burnt mansion. It could still hold clues on his brother's whereabouts; a secret or a clue perhaps? But, by now, the police would have it, so maybe inside intelligence was needed.
He glanced to Sakura, and she was still quirky and smiling.
Probably useless, but still a necessary contact. His fist clenched at the idea of home.
"I'll pack" he cut in and he thought he saw Sakura's disappointed face and flashed her one of his rare smiles, the kind he used to please the staff occasionally when they believed he wasn't quite mentally 'progressing'. The smile ensures success, they probably thought. "I just want to meet him" he retaliated quickly. And Itachi too, he wanted to add.
Her happiness was there once again.
"Great" she said.
"Great" he replied, and he did it with enough excitement that she looked pleased with herself, and he turned away knowing that he was finally free of her.
Eventual Sasuke/ Hinata, I promise, but reviews would certainly encourage updates.
Thank you for taking the time to read it.