You guys want some crack ships?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story, nor do I profit from this work.
Chapter One: A Perfect Storm
He knows what she is.
She isn't human, just a little to light on her feet, eyes just a little too bright, skin just a little too perfect.
But goddamn if she isn't most stunning creature he'd ever laid eyes on. Her attire is scandalous, a dress much too short, white, virginal and pure in the moonlight. He can see the whole line of her leg, the skin bare to the thigh.
She is barefoot, eyes almost glowing in the moonlight, hair just brushing her chin. His horse shifts under him, nervous.
He stills the beast with a touch.
"Why did you come here?" She asks, fingertips trailing over the long grass. He tracks her stride easily, eyes spinning red. She doesn't seem to notice, or care about his strange, demonic eyes.
He tilts his head, messy locks falling over the pale skin of his forehead. "I come to ask aid."
"The Uchiha don't ask for help."
"I'm not like the others."
She smiles at his words, a sad, secretive smile. He does not like it. It does not suit her. "That was what the last one said. Tell me, are you also a liar?"
The breeze that blows at her words is cold, chilling and he is suddenly very aware of how far from home he is.
"No." He answers, voice clear and strong. "I am many things; a liar is not one of them."
She seems to skip forward, as if she is blinking in and out of sight too fast for him to see. The horse under him prances away from her hand, the war beast highly strung, tense, afraid.
He brings it under control once more. Even though she has to tilt her head back to see his face, his horse many hands high, he gets the distinct feeling that she in control of this situation.
"Many things." She murmurs, reaching forward to touch the warm flank of his stead. "No, you are a killer, a murderer, a thief and a criminal. But not a liar apparently. Strange, for you to draw the line there." Her eyes are piercing, accusing.
He does not cower away from her gaze. He knows what he is.
"I will not pretend to be something I am not." He says.
She cocks her head to the side. "You don't fear my judgement?"
He doesn't. He doesn't care what she thinks of him. He knows what he is, what he has done. He does not take pride in it, but he will not shy away from the acts he's committed, to do so would be to dishonour them. "I come to ask aid." He repeats.
She accepts the letter he hands her. Her eyes are bright as she reads, catching the bright moonlight in a way that makes his breath catch in his chest. He knows that is part of what makes her so dangerous, knows that she is meant to draw in men like him.
"You want me to help a killer." She says, rolling the scroll back up. Her fingers are slender, long, delicate things. He has seen what those hands can do, has seen the scars she left on his ancestral home, on the grounds by the gardens and the dungeons.
"I want you to heal him." He says and for the first time, he hears the desperation in his voice. "He is the best chance for this land, to end this suffering."
She stares at the dark trees. "Long ago, an ancestor of yours attempted to tame me." She says, voice faraway. "He came to me, much like you, in the dead of night, riding a beast tamed by man. He begged me, forgot his pride and fell to his knees and begged for the life of his brother."
He listens. He had heard this story so many times, but always from the perspective of a man scorned, a man who had been denied the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world. That man's words had been bitter, filled with anger and longing.
Her words are just quiet resignation.
"I was young then, and I agreed to help. When I arrived on the back of the horse of your ancestor, I healed his younger brother, saved him from the disease that should have killed him. As thanks, your ancestor tried to lock me in chains, tried to keep in me a cell made from mud and rock." Her eyes are back on him, burning with rage. "They took what did not belong to them."
He looks at her back, having seen the wings his ancestor had stolen all those years ago. He imagines the beautiful wings curved over her shoulder, imagines how the silver and gold strands might catch the moonlight.
"Why should I help you, a descendant of the man who kept me trapped, who stole my wings, my freedom? Tell me." She demands, hand suddenly on the reigns of his horse. The horse prances, but her grip is like iron and he is forced to settle the skittish animal once again.
"Because I'll give them back." He says.
Her eyes go wide, lips parting in shock.
"I have seen them. They hang in my uncle's room, above his bed. When you have healed Naruto, I'll give them back to you." He promises, and he means it. He has always hated those wings, hated that their brilliance is hidden from the world, tucked away in the darkness of his uncle's home.
"He will kill you." She murmurs, taking a step back. Her eyes are apprehensive now, but there is a spark of hope there.
"So be it." He says. "I cannot let Madara continue to rule over this land with an iron fist. The people are suffering, Naruto can change that."
Her face is unreadable. Finally, she relaxes her grip on the reigns of his horse. "You are a killer, a murderer, a thief and a criminal." Her voice is not accusing this time, but rather, thoughtful. "But you are not a liar, are you, Uchiha Shisui?"
I dunno.
It's just rubbish.