Pairing:
Itachi x Naruto
Summary:
Lost to a wager, Naruto is sentenced to life (or death) under La Bestia, a man who is more animal than human. Abandoned by his father, with a murdered mother, Naruto cannot go back, but what sort of life is waiting for him under the paw of The Beast?
La Bestia
The Beast
We came on a boat. The wind left red marks on my face as it lovingly pressed against me. I refused to step inside, even when my father stepped up behind me and took me by the arm. He asked me to come back inside, sit with the others, but I refused. I was sick of the uptight 'gentlemen', which was the reason I was out on the main face of the boat in the first place.
The waves lapped at the boat, drumming a thousand white horses against the surface. I wished I was down there, battering my body against the hull, but I was stuck up here, looking over the side of a boat and sailing away from the home I loved.
We were here for the opportunities, or so my father said. We had left the land of golden opportunities, left the city where there was always a corner shop open, regardless of the time of night, left the crumbling slums and the high rise Ritz, only one street apart... left the place where the wealthy and the poor brushed knuckles, yet never acknowledged each other.
We left it in the night, with the cool, still air pressing to my skin, the sound of sirens echoing around us. My father had worn his long coat, the tails of the garment brushing around his legs as he'd run towards the taxi, shouting back over his shoulder to me.
I'd ignored him and it cost us a few extra bucks in taxi fair, but I didn't care. It pissed my father off, but as he was the one who wanted to move in the first place, I couldn't find the energy to care.
We went down to the docks, my ticket and passport clutched in my old man's hands. I had no choice in the matter and he wanted to make sure of this. I was his ticket to the new world... not that he knew I knew.
We were off to a new country. Not by an aeroplane, not that would be too classy. We were going to sneak on to a dingy boat with forged tickets. He was then going to take us to this town in the middle of the wilderness and use me as a bargaining chip.
We'd lost our fame and fortune. I'd often watched the people flitting in and out of the top hotels and restaurants, faux-fur replaced by the genuine thing and hair coiled up under neatly trimmed hats. Sunglasses and business suits covered inches of exposed skin, the wealthy not even darting a look to the opposite side of the street where we all lived, in one bedroom shitholes with dingy lighting and stained walls.
We were here because my mother died. Or rather, because my father had a gambling problem and she was murdered in the fall of his hand. He'd taken cards too far and the friends had turned venomous, flipping their jokers towards him and the stack tumbling in an array of blood and tears.
Uzumaki Kushina, the lady on the arm of Namikaze Minato, had died under tragic circumstances. The only thing tragic was that my father hadn't done a damned thing in revenge. He was a coward at the end of the day, or something to that effect.
I had no respect for my father. He'd stood back and let them kill her. He'd then crawled into our home, grabbed my wrist and the money we had left, whisking us from our penthouse room into the hovel we stayed in for a few weeks. After that, I learnt of his involvement and kept as far away as the 'apartment' would allow me.
The boat docked hours later and my father strode beside me, taking an arm and leading me across the plank that had been set between the boat and shore. It looked like something that should be in a pirate movie, or an undignified TV series, but here it was, right under my feet.
We had one case with us, a leather bag. It was ebony in colour, blending in with my father's coat and suit. He shuffled us to a cab, the silver car standing out in the early daylight. The driver held the door for us, a cigarette poking out of his mouth, and he grunted to my father as a form of welcome.
He didn't get in, instead he waited for me. I suppose it was to keep me from running away, but I'd reached the point where I didn't care anymore. The driver could shoot me through the skull and I was pretty sure I'd accept it.
What else in life was there? The son of a murderer, left my whole life behind because of my father, been dragged to another country... what was left for me?
I'd rather die.
The driver fired up the engine and we were off, fuck knows where. All I knew for certain was that I was going to be parting from my old man at some point in the future. I'd heard his plans... we were going somewhere, he'd gamble, he'd bet me, he'd lose me and then he'd be free of me.
I was just a bargaining chip, just like my mother had been. At least this way he wouldn't dirty his hands in my blood, though I had high expectations someone else would do it for him.
Lights flickered out overhead as the sun crept higher in the sky, crawling past clouds until it was brighter and higher than I'd seen it in weeks. Back at the slums we had been reduced to, and even when we lived in out penthouse, the sun had been covered by a thick sheen of smog, industrialised clouds that only broke once a month, sunlight filtering through weakly.
The car pushed faster and faster until any resemblance of cement or human life vanished. We even moved onto a dirt track, the rubber bumping along as we pitched to higher speeds. The driver had to be crazy; you can't just drive on dirt like you would on asphalt.
Apparently no one had told him that though.
We arrived at a small cluster of buildings, a road finally appearing again from another direction. It seems like this place was accessible for normal people and that the driver had just chosen the more 'scenic' route.
We stopped outside of a building with a clock tower. Who the hell has clock towers anymore? We were taken inside of the building, but down a corridor, and past a million doors. The driver then nodded to my father and my father handed him an envelope.
"See that we meet tonight," was all he offered before he pushed me forwards, apparently knowing the route now. From then on we passed through a maze of corridors, again, before walking up some stairs.
"You'll sleep here for now," a gloved hand pointed to the door as my father opened it. "It doesn't have a lock and I expect you to wake up when I come in later."
I was used to being told what to do, even before my mother was killed. I was raised as a perfect, wealthy man's son, and that meant listening to everything Daddy said. So I did. It didn't make much of a difference now, and even if I had any ambitions to escape, what was the point? My father would just come for me and I'd rather be shot of him before I escaped.
He shoved me into my room and I looked around. It was okay, dingy, but much better than the slums we had been in before. It didn't bother me; I was too tired to care. I hadn't slept since we'd left out home and the fact that the walls were webbed with patches of damp didn't faze me.
The bed was sparse, with a mattress and pillow only. I climbed onto it, curling up and drifting off to sleep.
I woke when a hand shook my shoulder and twisted over, staring up into blue eyes. I nodded to my father, indicating I'd understood, and slid from the bed.
"Your clothes are on the desk."
I didn't even know I had a desk. I looked over and, sure enough, there was a neatly pressed suit, looking oddly out of place on the wooden work bench my father had named a desk. It was in a shiny bag, to protect it from the grime it had passed through I guessed.
I needed a shower. My hair felt limp with dirt, even though I had showered before we left. Still, travelling in the sea hadn't been the most fun, with salty spray thrown up as the wind blew and the scent of the open ocean clung to me. My face felt wind chapped and stiff, while the rest of me felt tired and sweaty, even though I'd just slept.
I changed anyway, slipping out of the only clothes I had and placing them on the work bench. The suit felt strange against my skin, a memory of how we used to live. It was too nice a fabric for walking around this part of the town and I couldn't help but wonder who exactly we were about to meet. They had to be someone important, at the very least, for my father to insist dressing me up and taking me along.
And then I remembered. My heart sank as I remembered my father wasn't a nice person. He wasn't the man who had held me when I was ill, laughed with me as I learnt to ride a bike and taught me the ways of the world. He was a cruel man, one who wasn't above selling his son off for money.
I tied the tie neatly, flipping the material over and tucking it under the loop I had created. It was a dull orange, one thing I was thankful for I suppose. I'd always loved a brighter orange, but this burnt ember seemed like an impossible stain, a constant reminder of everything I had lost and could never have again. I just couldn't look at it for very long, is all.
I exited the door of my room, not bothering to look back. The bag the suit had been in now contained my clothes and I held them tightly. Other than them, there was nothing I had brought with me.
"Are you ready sir?"
I knew they weren't addressing me, but I still looked up. A thin, tall man stood to the side. His features were covered by a mask, a comical impression of a carp pressed to the plastic he wore. It was bright blue, blending with the darker blue clothes he wore, and he turned to me. I saw his eyes glint through two tiny holes in the plastic, but then any notion of a human face was gone as he turned, leading my father and me away.
We walked towards what I assumed was the clock tower, as I remembered that we had walked this way earlier. A few windows were dotted around and I could see that the moon was high; jutting through the clouds as if it was a forgotten relic, intent on being noticed. The clouds shifted, revealing another sliver of white, before they closed in again, a tempting glance of freedom for the moon.
My father was finally devoid of his long coat and instead he was dressed in a pinstripe suit. I hadn't seen this suit in a while and, though it was in pristine condition, as if it had been snatched straight off of the shelf, it was an old suit. It was the one he'd worn when building his enterprise, at the important meetings, and it was the one he had worn to ask my mother to marry him.
The man walked briskly away from us and we passed the door we had entered. We took the opposite direction and came to a flight of curved, ornate stairs. Apparently this wing of the clock tower and building was much nicer than the one we had been assigned.
"Someone will be waiting for you," the fish man said, bowing curtly to us. He stood to attention as if waiting orders from a King or Queen, ignoring the look I gave him.
My father seemed to know what to do though and he walked up the stairs, not even bothering to see if I was following. Perhaps I should just stay with the fish man, ignore my father's wishes and do what I want to do for once.
I didn't though. I followed him as I knew I always would. There were six steps between us and I kept the distance, my feet leaving indents on the plush red carpet. I took hold of the gold plated railing at the side as the spiral took place, curving the stairs smoothly. Whoever the owner of this place was, they were rich and not afraid to splurge on simple things. It was as if we were back at home, with the rich just a hairsbreadth from the poor.
There was another person at the top of the stairs, tall and straight standing. Again a mask was covering their face so I couldn't see if they were a boy or a girl, but judging from the rest of the company I had seen here I'd wager he was a man.
"Namikaze-sama," he said, dipping into a bow before turning to me. His mask had the image of a red scorpion emblazoned across and I searched for the man's eyes, looking for the small slits. I couldn't find them.
"La Bestia is waiting for your arrival."
We were led away again, this time across the landing and to a double door. The wood was a dark brown, shiny, and light bounced off of the surface.
"Enjoy your night," the man said, opening the door for us and bowing his head.
As usual, my father led us in. He was a few inches above the closest people and so he had a good vantage point, darting his head around as if he were a bird of prey. Something must have caught his eye for his body suddenly changed and he darted towards one section of the room, leaving me to fight against the crowd of people inside the room.
He'd taken us to a casino. It was what I'd expected - especially as I knew I was to be wagered – but it was still odd to see so many people dressed up, enjoying themselves. Didn't they know how close they were to losing everything? How close they were to becoming me?
I caught up with my father and came face to face with another double door set, this time flanked by two masked men. The light threw shadows on their masks, making them as if they were something from a living nightmare and I wondered… was all of this a dream? It should be, these things didn't happen to normal people, but then again, dreams couldn't go on for this long.
My father was talking to the masked men and one of them turned their attention away from him to look at me. There was something in the way his pig-faced mask looked at me that made me feel as if I was about to step into a slaughterhouse.
Maybe I was. I probably was. That was all I was now, a bargaining chip in the life of my father. I didn't have any rights and I was too damned pampered to fly the nest. What could I do without him? Nothing.
I was nothing without Namikaze Minato.
And that scared me more than death, more than the thought that I could be murdered.
The door swung open and we walked in. My father's arm stopped me when the door closed behind us and I realised why. We had to be checked over by more security.
Who was this person that they wanted a casino in the middle of nowhere, plus all the extra security?
I was about to find out.
We cleared security and moved through a corridor. There was only one door at the end of it, a black door with a silver handle. The lighting here was dim, as if the bulbs were going to die soon. It was mood lighting, I knew that, but it didn't strike happy thoughts inside of me.
There was a single table, circular in shape. People were sat in chairs around it, with other people standing around or behind them. For such a large room and so few people, it felt strangely busy. There was only one chair that was unoccupied and it looked more fit for a Lord than anyone here.
"We have a newcomer," a voice announced and I saw a cat masked man step up next to the ornate chair. "And, as with all newcomers, they are required to play one game with La Bestia!"
A cheer rose up around us and I felt a hand clap me on the back. Someone had moved from the table, letting my father sit down to play his hand at the cards. I was pushed to stand behind him, slightly to the side.
The crowd around us fell silent and some moved back, bowing their heads as a heavily cloaked person moved to stand in front of the ornate chair. Whoever this was, I was smart enough to guess they owned the place. To garner this much respect… it was amazing for one thing.
He was hunched over, as if something was causing him immense pain on his back. Long, heavy cloaks covered his whole body, orange, white and black mixing together to look like a mix-matched tiger. His face, too, was covered in a thick mask, tiger stripes painted onto the fabric.
Not an inch of skin was showing on his body, even his hands were gloved. His body shape was odd, his curved spine and slightly drawn up arms made it seem as if he was more beast than man, perhaps the reason why the people here called him 'La Bestia'? Was he truly a beast?
"We will play," one of the cat attendants said, settling La Bestia's cloths around his body as he sat in the chair. Cards were dealt out and The Beast took his hand, flipping the cards with the grace only an expert could manage.
The room grew gradually hotter and hotter, the heat folding my brain into small segments, disconnecting my full thinking capabilities. There was also a thick scent in the air, sandalwood and cinnamon, heavy with a touch of musk. I had first assumed it was one of the ladies in here, one who had doused herself in perfume, but looking around I had the feeling the scent was strewn over the clothes of The Beast. Had he dipped them in the scent before wearing them? It was that strong and potent that I believed he might have.
They flipped through decks of cards, cutting and folding and using words I didn't understand. I'd never shown an interest in cards and I wasn't about to start now. They'd ruined my family life, ruined my father and killed my mother. What joy could I get from pieces of paper that had such potential in human hands?
I could see my father pinking at his ears. It was a bad sign, one that showed he was stressed, and I knew what would be coming up soon.
"Does sir have anything else to wager? For the final stake?"
It had boiled down to the final moments my father would spend with me. In this final stake he would attempt to win back everything. Standing in the room I had learnt that the prize for winning against La Bestia was the riches of a madman, the equivalent of a small country's worth in gold and other favours. If you won against The Beast, you would win a lifetime's luxury.
No one had ever won. It puzzled me how anyone could think they would beat La Bestia, when – by the sounds of it – he had such a great reputation in gambling circles. Still, all it took was a fool and The Beast's wealth grew, stripping the challenger of everything he was foolish enough to offer.
I could tell by the tension in my father's shoulders that he was a few moments away from wagering me. His hands juddered, his hold on the cards slipping slightly as he laid them down on the table.
"And the boy?" one of the cat faced men asked, tilting his head so that the whiskers streaked down his mask, odd in the heat and light of the room.
At my father's nod, The Beast looked at his own cards. It was sickeningly rehearsed and I wondered how many times a human life had been on the betting table. From the look of things, too many times.
I'm not sure what my father thought to achieve even if he did win. The cards shifted and I could see them. A queen, a king and an ace, neatly lined up in his clutch. Perhaps he thought he could win with those cards, but we weren't back home. We had travelled over an ocean to be here and weren't in our own territory anymore. This belonged to La Bestia, we were just passing strangers to him.
I wondered if my father even hoped he would not lose me. I didn't know what was running through his head, through the mind of the man who had been my only influence during my life, one of two people who were supposed to be there forever, unconditionally.
Three aces were folded down neatly for a hulking, gloved hand. My heart skipped a beat as people around me nodded amongst themselves, vacating the room in favour for more drinks and more gambling. They had seen all they needed to here and it was just another pathetic passer-by.
"If sir would please leave?"
I was so sure he would decline the man for a moment that I allowed a smile to rise to my lips. Instead, my father in his fancy pinstriped suit looked to the ornate chair, bowed his head and left, following the cat men from my new prison.
Even though I'd known what he was going to do, that I was going to be left here with whatever lined his pockets, it hurt as the door slammed shut. He'd left me behind, left me with a creature that couldn't stand straight and I doubted was human.
"La Bestia will take you to your room," a soft voice said and I turned to another masked person. It was a woman this time, perhaps the only woman here, and her mask matched La Bestia's, a tiger printed boldly on her face instead of features.
She walked alongside me, linking our arms. I didn't question what she was doing until she slipped her hand down my arm, tugging at something in my hand.
I only just realised I was still holding the suit bag. My father had, for once, forgotten a minute detail and left me my clothes. I was thankful for that; at least I had something reminding me of who I was, instead of being trapped to this clock tower prison.
Ahead of us, The Beast lumbered in his walk. He held a cane, supporting part of his weight on it as he moved. We were to follow him, it seemed, but the woman stopped at the door we were about to follow him through.
"You must go alone," she said, still tugging at the folded suit bag. I couldn't let go of it, if I did then I would lose everything about my past. Who would I be without my past? I wasn't my father's son anymore, and losing those clothes wouldn't even give me the identity of a rich-boy-cum-unfortunately-circumstanced-poor-kid.
"You mustn't take these," she said again, her mask seeming to flicker in the dim lights of the empty room. It was eerie now that everyone had gone and I wanted to leave, even if it was to follow The Beast.
"They're my clothes," I said, my voice quiet and hoarse. It felt as though I hadn't spoken for months, when really it was only a matter of days.
"You mustn't take these," the woman repeated, her eyes flickering worriedly between me and the way The Beast had gone.
"They're my only clothes. I need them." She had to understand. These were the only things I had left.
"You cannot take them." Her head turned towards the way The Beast had left and I heard a strange wailing sound. "You have to go, please give me the bag."
I began to shake my head until the wail grew in pitch. Whatever it was, it wasn't happy.
"Please," she begged and my grip loosened just enough for her hands to prise it from me. She pushed me through the door, nodding with her head for me to carry on alone towards the wailing noise.
The door closed as she vanished, cutting off the world I knew. There was another flight of stairs, once again curved, and I couldn't help but be apprehensive about how high up from the ground we were. Did La Bestia live inside of the clock itself or something?
The floors were still lined with plush carpets and my feet didn't make a single sound. The wailing had stopped a few moments ago and I reached the top of the stairs, looking for a sign of life. The doors along the corridors were scratched at the bottom, claw marks carved into the wood.
I was nervous. I'd be a fool if I wasn't, and living with my father had taught me exactly how not to be a fool.
There was only one door open, at the very end of the corridor. It was, like the doors before, an inky wood colour, more black than brown - like wood should be.
I stepped inside, holding my breath as I passed the threshold. What was I expecting? Honestly? Death. A man garbed as a tiger would surely gobble me up much like the feline counterparts, without as much as a second thought.
Warm light bathed the room, covering the walls in a relaxed air. It was nice, comfortable, until I looked further into the room. On thick chains and collars were two tigers, lying at the feet of La Bestia. His cloaks were draped around him again, but I noticed that the outer layers had been laid off, stripping him down closer to skin.
A gloved hand rose up, the fingers curling, and an attendant rushed forwards. Again they were masked as a tiger and I realised that the core of this place, what everything was built on, was one animal; the tiger.
"La Bestia requires one thing only of you. You are to keep him company and adhere to his whims."
The attendant moves away then, back into the shadows. The door closes and I assume he has left the room. A low growl emits from one of the tigers and I can't help it; I step back.
"Are you afraid?"
His voice is more of an animal's than a human's. It sends chills through my body and I can't help the goose bumps that rise. He is a beast, but I can hope desperately that he doesn't have the same senses as one.
One of the tigers stands, lean muscle moving under barred skin. A huge head wheels around to me and it lifts a paw, tail swinging as it walks to me. It grunts, baring its teeth, but this time I cannot move. The noise of the chain reminds me of the boat we came over on, the clinking of the rig and sails, of the men working on the boat and the gentlemen smoking cigars inside, brushing knuckles with my father.
Aside from literally, we were all in the same boat. Disgraced members of aristocracy.
The tiger is so close now that I can feel the prickle of its whiskers. Heavy breath passes over my hands as they shake, and I wonder if this is a test. Am I about to be killed by this animal? Will La Bestia stop the animal before it gets to me?
Probably not. He's too hunkered down, more of a tiger than a human now. He wouldn't stop the bloodbath.
"Yes," comes from my mouth, admitting to the one man who has more power to kill me than anyone I'll ever meet.
The tiger draws back with a huff, responding to the tug on its chain. It settles down once more and The Beast rises.
Every now and again I can see snatched of humanity in his frame. He'll straighten up a fraction too straight for his frame, or the way his head sits on his frame. It's only things an outsider can see when they are judging this half-human-half-beast, and I can't make sense of it. What is he? Human or animal?
"We will eat dinner."
Despite the time that has passed, I realised it is around midnight. A little late for dinner, but something that my stomach jumps at. The Beast raises his body slowly, holding onto his cane as a lifeline. The tigers stir, looking up at their master with large eyes.
He makes it up, stumbling over to me.
There is a table behind me and he pointed to it, hand curling in his glove, as if claws weighed him down. Food already lines the surface of the table and the feeling that his pervious question was a test cannot be shaken off. Apparently I have passed.
I wonder briefly what would have happened if I'd given the wrong answer.
Dinner is both uncomfortable and awkward. La Bestia has the manners of a hyena and the grace of a mutated badger. He is ugly in all respects of the word and I almost cannot stomach the food presented to me.
That is, until a strand of hair falls over my forehead and I smell the sea. Then I remember that I haven't eaten for a long time and I pick up my fork, digging into the red meat and vegetables on my plate.
We eat in silence, with only the sounds of slurping and cutlery falling from The Beast's hand. It is an unusual symphony to my dinner as I'm used to noise, be it on the radio or from rowing neighbours. I miss those things now.
We leave the plates for the attendant to clean up and he skips back, collecting them efficiently and bowing to us both. It strikes me as odd that I'm bowed to as well, but then I remember my company. I belong to La Bestia now, by insulting me, you insult him.
We exit the tiger-room and he limps down the hall, leading me to another scratched door.
"Your room. Stay in here all night." He wheezes, air shuddering from his lungs. It is painful for him to talk it seems. "Tigers roam."
He touches my shoulder as I leave and I marvel at how human it is, misleadingly so. My eyes and ears can tell he is far from humanity and yet the heat from his covered palm and the curve of his hand was so human…
The scratches on the doors are explained at least. I have no worry that I'll wake up to scratches at the door as I can sleep through anything.
The room that is mine is simple. It has a very large bed in the centre, big enough for three people I'd say, and there is a bedside desk. A wardrobe stands next to a door, leading to the ensuite bathroom.
It's more like a hotel than a prison and I know that this can only be temporary. Whatever he is planning, La Bestia will reveal it to me tomorrow, or not at all. He'll misguide me, let me think I'm safe here, before sweeping the world out from under my feet.
I shower quickly, with no shower gel or shampoo. I didn't have any on me and none is provided in the stark white bathroom. I dry myself slowly, watching the spiral of dirty water vanish down the drain. All of it came off of me and I hadn't realised how grimy I was.
I didn't bother looking for any clothes, instead turning to sleep naked. The bed was warm and the room closed in, nothing would disturb me. All I needed to worry about was the morning and remembering I had no clothes on.
I turned the lights off and slipped into bed, falling into a deep sleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.
What seemed like a moment later, the bed shuddered. My eyes snapped open as images of hot breath and sharp teeth sprang to my mind, but whatever had joined me in the bed didn't venture towards me. I kept solidly still as the sheets rustled, sounding too loud to my ears. Who was this person? What were they doing here?
I couldn't relax enough, my mind whirling through a hundred possibilities. It wasn't a tiger, the breathing was human, a little shallow and light at times. An attendant maybe? But surely they had their own quarters, and why would The Beast let one in with me?
La Bestia?
I shook the thought off. I would know if it was him. It clearly wasn't… something I was thankful for.
That meant it had to be someone else. Curious, I shuffled back slightly, centimetre by centimetre. I stopped until I could feel the bed indent a little more than it would under my weight and I knew that I was close to the bed-invader.
Something happened then that I was not expecting. Hair brushed across my shoulder as the person behind me curled up a little, pressing their forehead to the juncture where my shoulders met. I could feel their body shaking and my eyes widened in the darkness. They were crying.
I remained still, not even ticklish as a hand pressed to my ribs, seeking some comfort. It wasn't a heart-wrenching cry, soft sobbing at most, but I could feel their pain through the skin-to-skin contact we had. Whatever this person had experienced, they were in pain.
I must have drifted off for, when I woke in the morning, the stranger was gone. I thought it was a dream until I looked at the pillows around me and spotted a long, dark strand of hair. Mine was blond and short.
Someone here needed my help. I just had to think of a way to help them.
.
Days passed by in the same routine. I would be free the whole day until the evening meal, where I would be joined with The Beast. We would eat silently, tigers pacing in their chains, until La Bestia would drop his cutlery, move his fabric mask a little and slurp his dinner through the mouth hole. He would come away with food around the fabric, but I learnt to mirror my face to hide my real reaction.
I wasn't afraid of him anymore. I was afraid of his power, that much was true, but he was just an unfortunate being. He couldn't help the fact he was a mutated being, stuck between animal and human, just as I couldn't help that I was blond.
So I pretended it didn't disgust me. And after dinner, I would tell him a story about my life, talk about the games I had played as a child, the pets I had wanted, the way my mother's hair would shine in the evening light… of how much I had loved her and how much I missed her.
I never spoke of my father. I didn't like to think of him at all because he was the reason I was here. I didn't want to remind The Beast of this fact when we seemed to be getting along well, or rather that I was still alive.
Night times were my private luxury. Even though it meant I would wake later, I would wait until the tigers had stopped their prowling and the door opened. I would wait then until the door shut, my night time visitor slinking under my covers and shuffling to the centre of the bed. I would shift back to join him, waiting until he would rest upon my back and draw comfort in my form. Sometimes he would cry, sometimes he would simply sleep, but every morning he was gone.
If not for the hairs left on my pillows and sheets, I would think I was clinging to an imaginary friend, looking for someone suffering worse than I was.
One night, after The Beast spilt his stew all down himself, causing him to leave and miss out on our story, I waited eagerly for the tigers to stop scratching the door. The door opened, letting in a tiny stream of light, and I knew my friend – for that was what he was now – would be joining me soon.
Tonight he cried softly, the tears slipping onto my shoulder.
I shifted over, rolling round in the bed. My friend went rigid and our eyes met. We looked at each other, stuck in a stare. I moved of my own accord, knowing exactly what I was doing by placing my hand on his cheek.
He had such pale skin. I couldn't see much of his features, only notice how pale his skin was compared to mine. He shuddered in the dark, hairs rising at my touch, and I knew he needed me as much as I needed him.
There were so many questions I wanted to know. What was his name? Why was he here? Why did he come to my bed every night? Did La Bestia know?
His eyelashes closed slowly as the distance between us narrowed. His lips were chapped as he kissed mine, curling a hand around my wrist. I moved to his hair, tangling my fingers into the tresses and pulling him tighter to me.
He was mine.
And then he pulled away suddenly.
In the darkness I could see two round, frightened eyes. They were dark, like a startled horse or bull, and he pulled away from me, limbs twisting awkwardly as he moved to get away.
What was he doing? Why was he leaving me?
"Wait!" I called out to him, sitting up in bed. The sheets tangled around my legs, protecting my modesty the one time I honestly didn't care. He was leaving, leaving me to suffer this torture on my own.
A pale hand clutched the door handle and he gave one last look back in the darkness. I wished I could run to him, made my move to get to him before he exited, and failed. In the slight sliver of light I could see he was draped in white cloth, so out of place in this clock tower prison that I had to sit back on the bed.
That night I curled in on myself, waiting for my midnight visitor to return.
He didn't that night.
.
The Beast was oddly civilised at dinner two nights since I had faced my friend. He hadn't returned to my bed and I had hardly slept.
I wasn't so tired that I didn't notice that he didn't once drop his fork. He fumbled with his cutlery, yes, but didn't drop them. He even ended with a clean face mask and I was content to sit at our usual distance, without having to look the other way so as to escape the foul stench of food drying at his mouth.
"Would you like to hear about-"
La Bestia held a great hand up, ceasing my talking.
"I tell you why you here," he wheezed, chest heaving with the effort it took. "Tonight you will be free."
My eyes widened. Free? He was letting me go? But why?
"I explain later. For now, you need… need to stay."
The tigers shifted as their Master rose, shakily standing. He unclipped their chains from their collars and I froze. There had been a terrible mistake, I wasn't to be freed at all. I was going to be eaten.
The tigers walked to me, their feet making great noise on the floor. La Bestia just watched, tilting his head in a curious-human way. I could imagine his eyes, watching me as his ugly face twisted in a snarl. I was thankful for the coverings, for once. I'd be spared looking at his disgusting body while I died.
"Are you afraid?"
I remembered the question from when I had first come here, though my answer was different. Even then I had so much to lose, though I hadn't realised it then. Before I had still had expectations and dreams about my future. I hadn't know what La Bestia was like, what life here would be like and so I had simply assumed I would either die – get it over with at least – or I would be freed.
Instead I had made a friend, fallen in love with them though I knew nothing about them, and lost them. The Beast had me under his thumb and I was not afraid.
"No," I said, closing my eyes and waiting for the searing pain of being torn apart. The tigers were close to me now and I could feel their breath on my cheeks. Whiskers scratched my skin as pain flared on my cheeks, before it all vanished.
My cheeks were damp. The tigers moved back, falling back to their Master as my hand moved to my cheeks. They were wet with saliva.
"You wait in here. Safe here."
The Beast moved off, tigers following casually. Their tails swayed as they walked, curving around the joints of their legs. They were beautiful, untouchable in their beauty and I couldn't fault La Bestia for trying to be like them, however much he couldn't be.
What did he mean by safe?
A few minutes later I found out. Screams sounded from far away and I knew they were from the casino downstairs. What was happening?
Loud bangs could be heard and my jaw slackened. Someone was firing… and by the way La Bestia had been acting, it was all planned.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't just wait here while everything fell to pieces around me. My father had done that before, he wouldn't do it again.
I rushed down the corridor and through The Beast's private gambling room. I ignored the stench of blood as I wrenched the door open. The world span around me and I put a hand out to break my fall. I felt my fingers crack under the sudden pressure and pain blossomed up my arm.
Looking behind me I saw the broken mask of an attendant lying next to their body. It was the pig faced man I had seen ages ago and I felt bile rise in my throat. He was still bleeding, shot in the head not too long ago.
Blood covered my arm and my leg, where I had landed. I held my fingers over my chest, frown contorting my face as I ignored the pain. I had to see what was going on. I had to see if The Beast was okay.
I'd never realised it before. I'd become attached to a monster of a man, wanting to protect a hideous monster. Somewhere during the weeks I had spent here, I had grown affectionate of the limping mass that shouldn't be alive and I wanted to protect him in any way I could.
I'd reached the main casino floor by now and the sight was one to behold. Police officers lined the walls where there were exits, managing to block off any escape routes. I was higher than the floor, over a balcony, and I could see their opponents. A large group of men were still standing, guns pointed towards the policemen. I remembered hearing that some high profiled members of a gang were arriving… turns out that the police had caught wind too.
On the casino floor, guests were huddled under playing tables. Corpses littered the floor and I searched for the mass I had come accustomed to. I couldn't see him. Where was he?
Panic gripped at me as I realised The Beast wasn't here. Had he been shot down somewhere? Had he escaped from here? Had he left me behind?
I don't think I could deal with it if he'd left me behind.
"Pull to the left!"
I looked to the voice in shock. In full military uniform, with a bullet proof vest and wielding a gun, stood my father. He moved his arms, gesturing to someone behind him, and moved forwards, gun tilted and eyes on lock at the group.
I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream, anything to stop my father placing himself in the firing line. Two shots exploded from his gun before he fell back, another man moving to take his place. The gang were clever, though, and they ducked below tables, weaving in and out in a way that only I could see properly.
A dark mass caught my eye and my heart jumped madly. A pile of cloths, orange, white and black, were thrown on the floor. I could see from here that La Bestia wasn't under them, the surface was too wide and too flat. Where was he? What was he doing? Why had he taken his cloaks off?
I felt dizzy suddenly and I fell to the ground, rubbing my eyes. Blood had crusted on my arm and I was sure it not covered my face, but I was beyond caring. Nothing made sense anymore. Why was my father here? And why was he a policeman? Where was The Beast? Why wasn't he wearing his clothes? Why did I come down here?
Padding distracted me and I looked up to the whiskered, striped face of one of the tigers. It moved until its nose was inches from my face, and I grabbed the scruff of its neck, moving to the shoulder of a fierce predator.
In that moment, I didn't care that this animal could rip me to shreds. It belonged to The Beast and I needed him right now. He had become my rock, the only thing that was certain in my life, and I trusted him.
Were the police here for him?
The tiger moved away from me, pausing when I removed my hand from its back. I placed my palm on the coarse fur again and we began to move away from the balcony, down to a set of stairs. From this point I could see that most of the gang had been taken down, either shot or detained by the police as they'd broken from the pack.
I could see the other tiger mingled with the police. My hopes rose, was La Bestia with them? In their custody? In their protection?
I wanted to run to them, run to my father and my Beast. I couldn't live knowing that he had died, he had died here in efforts to save me. I knew he had saved me here. The gang were known as one of the most ruthless gangs in our city, let alone in this small town. They were probably here to take La Bestia's kingdom by force… and that meant me too.
My tiger stopped at the foot of the stairs, crouching. I bent low too, unsure what was about to happen. The other tiger moved out from the police, darting behind tables until it was at a vantage point, on the other side of the room.
I suppose they were going to attack. Not many people took notice of them as they were too engrossed in the stake out between my father, his squad and the three gang members left.
Two tigers, three gang members. Who was going to take out the third?
And then he stepped forward, in a cloak of white and orange and black. In his hand was a gun, cocked and ready to fire. He was standing tall, hands curled tightly around the weapon as he fired. The tigers moved as the bullet flew and all three men fell down at the same time, the only sound that of ripping flesh.
The man of my nights, the man I had fallen in love with and kissed was there. In the centre of the policemen, looking at me with wide eyes and draped in tiger skin. As police moved across the scene, to clear the evidence and probably tuck the deaths under the carpet as always these days, two people looked to me.
My father was the first one to me, calling out for medical assistance and paling at the blood on me. I didn't bother correcting him to explain it wasn't mine, I was too fixed on the pale man standing to the side.
The tigers moved to either side of him, their heads butting his hands. Who was he? He was my Beast, my night time love, but who was he?
"I'm sorry Naruto, so sorry." My father was crying now, too afraid to reach out to me and hold me.
"I had to act as if everything was done by me or because of me." I looked at him. "I was on an undercover mission and they killed… they killed her." Fresh sobs wracked my father's frame and I understood.
He hadn't killed my mother. He'd been on an undercover mission and someone had killed her in revenge.
"This was your revenge?" My voice was shaky and I cursed it. Why couldn't I sound strong?
"It was justice. I needed you to be safe and the safest place was with Itachi."
Who was Itachi?
I look to my Beast. He inclines his head and I know his name. He's not La Bestia, not The Beast, not a monster or a disgusting creature.
"Itachi has been playing the role of La Bestia for a few years now, after he killed him. Only the highest officers knew this though and we have been able to stop lots of major underground criminals through him. He's been our greatest asset. I trusted him wholly to protect you."
Itachi. Itachi who wasn't La Bestia, but my protector. Itachi who my father had trusted to protect me, fooling me into believing a million lies.
I couldn't forgive him. Not yet anyway.
I needed to talk to Itachi.
My father didn't say anything as I picked my way across the casino floor. Scattered chips and debris marked my path, but I didn't care.
Itachi was waiting for me, strange in his costume. He wouldn't look me in the eye, instead looking to the cats by his side. The tigers looked up at me in interest, backing away a moment later.
"You came to me in the night," I managed to whisper, leaning as if to lean on him, but falling short.
"Every night," Itachi whispered, bending his head towards mine. He was taller than me, but the distanced seemed to short this close.
"Why?" He looked at me at the question and I felt like a fool. I'd seen La Bestia's eyes, how could I not have thought he was more than he seemed? He was intelligent and there was a lingering sadness in his gaze. He'd been alone too long, sunken into the character of a monster he was only supposed to play.
"It's hard," he said and I knew what he meant in those two words. So many other things sprang to mind, how long had he been like this, alone and broken? Why had he accepted? Why had he chosen me?
I didn't ask any of them. Instead I reached up and kissed him, feeling as if it was the only thing in the world that was acceptable to do.
I felt two tails curl around my side as Itachi drew me closer and I knew that he would always protect me, always love me.
And I would always love him.
.
Notes:
This is my entry for a contest in Enchanted Desires club over on Y!Gallery. The prompt was a fairytale with a modern-day twist. I chose, as a core, Beauty and the Beast, but I've leaned heavily on a version by Angela Carter called The Tiger's Bride. It's also a mashup of every version of Beauty and the Beat really, chopped up and sewn together.
I hope you enjoy!