I am not affiliated with Naruto or Masashi Kishimoto-sensei.
So with that being said, please do not sue the poor high school student. D':
This story takes place in an alternate universe (AU), with slightly-altered storylines, though it stays true to each character's persona… or at least, I try. Don't flame me for making such a strange fanfiction; I'm sure there are more out there that are much worse than mine. x) No offense to anyone or anything, but there always will be someone better. (Truth hurts. D'x Especially since it applies to everyone, haha.) XD I just dissed myself. Ouch.
Anywho, this fic is based off a dream I had a while back... With one of my best friends as the main character. oO; Weird, huh? But, as per her request, it's written format will be her Christmas present. (IN JUNE!?) No, no… This is only part ONE out of a SIX chapter fic. Maybe I'll make it seven if I complete the manga in time for 2008 and get enough reviews… (Oh, I'm so greedy. XD)
This story updates ONCE A MONTH, every 30th or 31st, except for December, when I will update this on the 24th or 25th. On the 31st of December, I will announce if there will or will not be a 7th epilogue chapter.
Drawn pages for this fic can be seen at BloodContract on DeviantArt.
Have you ever heard the tale of the mercenary? Swift and silent, he always did as told, down to the exact detail. Although, his prices were higher than what most could afford, even for the leaders of the time, demanding prices in the millions. However, once the Industrial Revolution hit, he suddenly disappeared. Rumor has it he tired of his job and retired. Some say he lives in the woods just west of here. However, no one has ever seen him. Still, he will forever remain in our hearts...
Chapter One: Welcome to Hell
"Caw, caw!" Crows and ravens let out their shrieks of laughter as a vehicle pulled up to the mansion. It already was their daily routine to do so, but no. Today… today was different. Of course, I don't mean in scenery or atmosphere, as the sky still brooded with a deep gray, as well as the air with pollutants. It was the Industrial Revolution, and times were hard. Dark black clouds of smoke and smog rose up from the city not too far away, stretching their fingers to reach this mansion hidden among the trees and hills. Black feathers ruffled as the winged creatures puffed out their chests and gazed down at the visitors.
The tattered black carriage that pulled up to the mansion had come to a stop near the front gates. The coachman promptly tied the reins to the side of the cart, hopped down off his stool, and opened the door for his master, bowing as the motion was executed with a sweep of the feet. There was silence for a second, that is, until a black leather boot took root upon the dirt ground. Then immediately, as if with a jolt, the next leg slipped through the opened door, revealing a man emerged from darkness. With a smirk on his face as he looked up at the mansion, threatening in its size, he laughed. Cackled was more like it, as he slicked his black locks back behind his head, having been swept up and knotted by the wind. It was really too long for his own good, but that didn't matter to him. All that mattered at the moment was…
His laughter stopped abruptly as he let out a cluck of the tongue and turned his head to the side, looking back at the carriage. Through the shadows, if one squinted, they could make out another human buried in the same darkness. It did not move, even when the man kindly offered his hand, pale white from albinism. It only gave motion to do so when the order was given. "Come here, you filthy wench," the man spoke, his composure taking on a new image. Trembling, the shadow reached out its arm, hand poised to rest in the other's until he yanked her out of the mobile, revealing her to the light. The woman winced in pain, not yet used to such a warm feeling. Releasing her arm, the man let out a "tch," and began to make his way up to the doors of the mansion.
The man pushed back the creaking black iron gates, sending the ravens and crows off into the gray sky, cawing their curses. Approaching the tall oak doors, obviously heavy by the craftsmanship put into them, the man just pushed them both back with a single hand. Inside was just as grand, yet eerie, as expected from a mansion in the middle of nowhere. However, the guests didn't have time to enjoy the scenery as the doors immediately closed in on them with a slam. Immediately, candles lit the room, and an eye, gleaming black, peered out from the darkness. One would be terrified, if not for the bearer stepping out into the light, revealing fully lit features. The gentleman friend, though, paid no mind to the possible threat, as he merely bowed in respect with a smirk.
"Flashy as ever, aren't you," he spoke with a slight sneer in his tone. Returning to his original stance, he smirked, making the purple markings upon his eyes give the illusion of a snake. A viper or cobra would have suit this gentleman best. After all, he was clad in what was taken to be lewd clothing for the time. Donned in a black blazer with matching slacks, and no dress shirt but a single white satin underlayer, he was infamous throughout the region. Orochimaru, slave driver and illegal importer of, how one would say, "borrowed" goods. Jewelry, clothes, humans; you name it. His specialty, though, was of the latter, as he dealt in slave trading.
"…So you say," replied the dark-eyed man. Reflections of red fire flickered throughout the pupil as he eyed the woman who followed behind Orochimaru. She was clad in a shapeless dress, if one could call it that. Puffy cloth surrounded her shoulders like clouds, and the only parts that clung to her body must have been the rope loosely hanging from her waist. Her hair was just as her clothing: plain and mussy. Half of her hair hung over the left side of her face, and was gathered into a loosely tied ponytail at the end. She possessed dark hair, a taboo, especially for one who was to be bought and sold. His eye gleamed silver as it looked back upon Orochimaru.
With a twisted look on his face, Orochimaru stepped aside to allow the man a better glance at the woman. Seeing as how she was reluctant to take a step up, he hastily grabbed her wrist and pulled her by the bone. "Filthy wench," he muttered under his breath as he looked back to the potential customer. Smirking, he motioned to the woman, who bowed her head on cue. "A gift." Seeing that his companion was about to refuse, knowing that Orochimaru asked for high prices most of the time, even to good friends, he held his hands up in protest. "Free of charge."
Now this got the man's attention. He was known to Orochimaru to be stingy with money, even though he had mounds of it lying around the mansion somewhere. Of course, he wasn't such a pig that he wouldn't take something from a friend without compensation. "Oh?" he spoke in amusement. "Now what's gotten into you? Some sort of kindness or bribe?" Looking at the woman, he immediately looked back at the dark-haired man. "If she comes with any danger, I'll have no part in i---"
"No, no danger at all," Orochimaru stated, shaking his head left to right to give more impact to the statement. His eyes shift over to the girl with menace. "Isn't that right, my dear?" No response came from the girl except by a stoic nod. Enraged, he grabbed the woman's wrist again and pulled her to her knees. "Well!?" Still, only silence answered him with a nod. This drove him a bit past his limit, as a vein pulsated on the side of his head.
"Well then, I guess I'll have to reteach you everything…" He pulled out a leather whip from the inner pocket of his blazer. "Filthy wench…!" He raised the weapon, poised to strike, and snapped it down… Only to find his hand stopped by the dark-eyed man. It slit into a near-white glare as he shook his head side to side. Obviously, he disapproved of it. "So you'll take her then…" Orochimaru assumed as his deranged smile softened into his usual smirk.
Slowly, the man lowered his arm, along with Orochimaru's, immediately disarming him in the process. The man looked over to the girl, who did not even cover her head in fear of the weapon. 'She must be broken already,' he thought to himself. 'To already be so submissive…' Handing the whip back to the pale-faced man, he gave a shrug of the shoulders. "Seems like I've no choice in the matter, now do I?" he stated. "After all, with the way you're treating her, she's broken already, no?"
After pocketing the leather object, Orochimaru patted the breast of his jacket. "Mentally, yes," he spoke matter-of-factly. "However, the rest is… intact, as one would say," he added with a slight chuckle. After doing business for so many years, he had developed a sort of sixth sense as to what his customers wanted. "I take it that she's to your liking then?" Orochimaru spoke with a smirk. "Well, it's no surprise, seeing as how you always go for the silent type; almost seems as if you're in love with yourself instead."
Orochimaru stood there, silent for a moment, as if expecting a reward for his kindness. The dark-eyed man rolled his eye and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a leather pouch full of coins. Opening it, it seemed as if he were to retrieve but one coin and keep the rest for himself. 'Typical,' Orochimaru thought to himself in spite. However, the object the man pulled out of the sack was not a coin, but instead, a withered flower, pressed to be preserved. Pulling the strings of the leather pouch to close, the man tossed the sack at Orochimaru, who caught it with ease. Inside were about fifty or so glittering gold pieces and he grinned with pleasure. "Thank you for your patronage."
Orochimaru turned to leave, taking a step back in his stride. For the last time, he peered upon the face of the girl, finally noticing something. "Then again," he began, eyes shifting over to the strange man. "Perhaps, instead, you're still attached to your previous donor." At this last statement, the man's right eye widened, shrinking his pupil, almost making him look like some sort of monster. It then lowered into a glare, as if testing Orochimaru to say anything more. Orochimaru kindly returned the glare, letting a devilish smirk stretch across his face at the same time. His damage was done, and so, he exited the residence, chuckling at God-knows-what amused him.
The man let out a "tch" as the door closed behind the snake-like man with a soft "thud." 'Wait… doors don't make that sound, do they?' the man thought to himself with slight realization. His eyes shifted about the hall, seeing if any of his items had fallen due to the wind the door swept up. However, they all were perfectly fine: chandeliers would have caused too much noise if fallen, as well as the multiple sculptures and vases upon the pedestals scattered about the dimly lit room. Finally, his eye landed upon the girl. She sat on the floor, legs in a "w" shape. Her head hung limply from her shoulders—was she ill? With slight concern, though it was more like gentlemanly instinct, the man outstretched his hand to the girl.
"Don't touch me," she commanded, slapping the hand of the man away in the process. Slowly, the girl lifted a leg, and on bended knee, she returned to her standing position. She slumped a bit in the beginning, but forced herself to stand in her proper position. Bitterly, she looked up at the man, looking him over just as he did her. The first thing she noticed was his height, he had to have been around 5'11", but no more than that. His hair was silver-gray, and parted off to the left, covering that side, respectively. Other than pale skin and a pure black right eye, she could find nothing strange about him. Well, aside from his clothes, that is.
The bottom part of the man's face was covered by an unturned collar. His robe seemed to have been designed that way, a turtle-neck like thing, with shining metal shoulder pads. The fabric fell straight down to the ground, and seemed to be made out of a sheer, yet heavy fabric. Underneath, he simply wore a black shirt and pants, made of the same fabric. 'Must be some sort of expensive cotton not yet released to the common folk,' the girl thought to herself. 'Not only that, but he must be rich, too.' After all, it wasn't everyday that she was sold to man who owned a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere.
"Would you rather a picture?" the man asked jokingly. To this treatment, the man had made no reaction except to lift his eyebrows in amusement and watch the girl's movements. She was unpredictable, this one. At her sudden change of attitude when Orochimaru left, he guessed she was more bipolar than anything. Being taught under that man's control could do that to a person. Even combined, the leaders of all the nations would be nothing compared that man and his ego. However, introductions were in order, and so he asked, "What is your name?"
"Megumi," she replied. Lowering her eyelids into a glare, she added, "And I'd rather my freedom." Sighing she shook her head side to side. "Besides, isn't it customary to introduce oneself first? And here I thought you were a gentleman." She smirked in spite of her situation. "Guess not every lord made their fortune through honest means. Then again, I wouldn't expect that from anyone, especially since tale of that mercenary—"
"Kakashi," the man completed her sentence for her. "And in answer to your question, not every man is what he seems to be." He gave a slight bow, crossing his left hand in front of his abdomen and the other behind his back. "So glad you've heard of me though." Megumi gasped in shock, her smirk immediately disappearing from her face, though she tried her best to keep it steady. Kakashi merely returned to his standing position, perfect posture and all, and smirked from underneath the high-raised collar. "You've something to say, Me-gu-mi?" he asked her teasingly.
Megumi stood in her place, silent for a second as she took in the new information. "You're… Kakashi…" she repeated to herself, almost disbelievingly. One would expect her to be broken as with Orochimaru, but instead, she burst out into a fit of bitter laughter. Tossing her head back, she snapped it down to glare at the man. "Bull. The mercenary known as Kakashi was rumored to have been heartless, heartless. There's no way that you could be him." Smirking, she crossed her arms across her chest, satisfied that her point had been made.
"If you're referring to the fact that I spared you from the pain of the whip, you're welcome," Kakashi replied with a glare. "And has it ever crossed your small, pitiful mind that said mercenary had become tired of his job?" Shaking his head side to side, he found himself aggravated already. 'Damn you Orochimaru, for selling me such a stubborn-assed woman…' he cursed in his head. Then again, he was the one who volunteered to take in the poor girl. Hah, "poor" girl, that was a laugh. She was anything far from that, save the fact she was, indeed, monetarily challenged. "Or would you like me to take your life?"
Brown eyes grew wide as the girl heard these last words. "Really?" she asked. "You would take my life?" God, even saying the words sent chills down her spine. A twisted smile appeared on her face. "All I've ever wanted was to be free," she whispered to herself like a madwoman. "Would you set me free from this hellhole of a life? Send me off to the afterlife with these…"–she held his hands and placed them against her cheek–"these… beautiful hands… drenched in blood…"
God, the woman wasn't bipolar, she was downright insane! It was no wonder why Orochimaru had wanted to get rid of her so badly. Not only that, but she was suicidal, which gave good reason to why she did nothing at the hands of the whip. What's worse is that the bastard was right. The girl, in all mind and wit, was just like him. Instead of shaking the girl off like he would to any other, he took her by the wrist. "Fine," he spoke, leading her off to a room. 'I may have use for her yet…'
Oh Sweet Father in Heaven, had her day finally come to rejoin those others who had been tortured just as she? Upon being led to a stop, she was thrown into a dark room. Letting out a slight grunt of pain, she felt her back pressed up against the wall, and a harsh whisper in her ear. "As you wish," Kakashi spoke, pressing her up against the cool surface by the neck. His nails dug into the soft skin that was her neck, feeling her pulse quicken. The blood rushed throughout her body, attempting to enter the brain before it was too late. Oxygen was completely cut off to all her systems as she felt tiny crescents of blood flow down her neck. Megumi let out one last gasp before her eyeballs rolled into the back of her head, falling into darkness.
Megumi's body fell limp against Kakashi's, and he caught her with ease. Silently, he walked a few paces from where they originally stood, and placed her upon the surface of a bed. Gently, he swept her hair back, careful not to nick her. Crescents of blood stood out, creating a crimson red contrast against her slightly yellow-white skin. Bending down, he raised a hand to his collar, pulling it down, and licking his hands clean of her blood. When he finished, he dug his fingernails into his own palm, squeezing his fist until a lone drop finally trickled down to his fingertips. Opening his palm, he gently placed the droplet into the deepest cut he'd given her. With that, he stood and exited the room, not even bothering to place the covers over her.
Kakashi walked down the hallway, his robe suspended in the air behind him. The girl had asked him to send her off to the afterlife. Perhaps it wasn't the most conventional method. Perhaps it wasn't what she had in mind, but she hadn't been very specific, had she? Kicking off his boots, he laid back against his own bed, on the other side of the mansion. Letting out a slightly saddened sigh, he held his right hand up in the dim candlelight. There was no trace, not even a scar or scab of where he had inflicted pain upon himself. 'Welcome to Hell.'
