Newborn
(SPOILERS for part two of the manga. Er, the part with Sai in it.)
So, first off, sorry, for degrading the pure bond of camaraderie between Sai and his Nii-san to one of a sort of vulgar sexual expression. Reading the Naruto manga and taking in the messages, I am conflicted – the SasuNaru bond of friendship is so powerful and pure, it seems almost unfair to taint it with sex . . . could it be we yaoi fans are wrong? . . . No! Mustn't think that way! Sasuke and Naruto are getting married and having a glorious, erotic honeymoon!
Oh, dear. But this isn't about them. This is about Sai and his messed-up perspective on sex and love. A tale basically built upon one particular line of imaginary dialogue and a formidable interest in a boy with a formidable interest in male body parts.
When titles were required, for cataloguing purposes, or for roll calls, they were called 304 and 287. Two numbers, one indicating seniority over the other, and nothing else.
The one called 304 was skinny and pale and beautiful, with long limbs and an elegant back and stomach that he preferred be bare. Some of the older members of Root teased 304 for his fragility, and supposed sensitivity – the boy liked to draw, to paint pictures when he had the time, though no one knew why he might want to do it aside from to improve his ninja techniques. Some could have called his hobby a talent, but most ANBU saw it as another thing to distinguish him by as an individual, so it was a bad thing.
304 had shiny black hair and matching black eyes that were aesthetically pleasing and sung of aristocratic perfection – though he only mimicked true blood, merely resembled real beauty, like a mannequin hung in a window. His stark black eyes hinted something deeper beneath them, though it was something of which he was clearly not even aware, for deep and insightful he simply was not. 304 knew only schematics and semantics, not of the true mysteries of the world.
Some older members of Root knew how to smile, even remembered it from their past lives, and implored the raven-haired beauty to try it, insisted how much lovelier he would look with a smile on his pert lips, but the boy simply did not know how, and did not spend a lot of time trying to figure it out.
287 was a year, maybe two older than this dark-haired companion, but having no past and no future meant it was not necessary to have an age, either. He was brash and loud in comparison to his comrade, with a stiff mop of silver-blonde hair and an attitude that spoke of confidence and brightness unfounded in typical ANBU ranks. He wore a wide smile that allured and confused many in Root, had a figure that was slim and cute, though slightly harder but equally as unmarred as his sleeker companion.
If at any time it was required in any way to identify ANBU individually, when travelling in groups, perhaps, the nameless ninja were fitted with names suited to their traits or skills. 287 was at times referred to by his peers as "monkey", because he was good at climbing and scaling most any surface with absurd energy; and 304 was sometimes called "snake" because of his ability to move with great flexibility and stealth. Neither young nin knew the connotations of their nicknames, good or bad, never having been exposed to the implications built by folklore or tradition of calling someone either a monkey or a snake.
Even the simple identifications "blonde-haired one" and "black-haired one" would often suffice, as the two were seen together so often that that was all that was required to say if you wanted one and not the other. They would be seen off away from the assembly of elite ninja, sitting together, the brunette's fingers smudged with ink of the purest black, the blond idly fiddling with knives or scrolls of paper.
The younger Root recruit took quite quickly to the blond youth as soon as they met, as was more or less common amongst new recruits: to admire a sempai and stick close to them. The practice was not discouraged, though it was hardly encouraged, as emphasis was clearly placed on being your own ninja. The younger nin, hardly a teenager, with sinfully smooth black hair and dark eyes stuck close to his senior whenever they were together on missions or travelling in the same group.
It came so that the younger boy called his sempai with an appropriate "Nii-san" when they would meet, and the older one, unaware of the proper counter honorific for little brother was, would at most times call him nothing, though he greeted the brunette with a charming smile each and every time just the same.
Sometimes when they were together, they would kiss, and sometimes, the older Root members would watch, because while it wasn't rare to witness public acts of sexuality amongst the ANBU troops, they were both so pretty and young and particularly nice to watch. An unknown heat vibrated between them that pleased clueless onlookers.
In Root, love and passion were naught but words, though the human impulse for sexual release remained, so many of the young men especially would kiss and touch when they had the opportunity to do so. Sometimes, then, when too many eyes fell upon them, the two young men, the melancholy artist and his optimistic sempai, would separate, not because they knew of the social constructs of modesty and privacy, but because for some reason, it was much nicer when they were alone, just the two of them.
In the middle of a dark forest, among the huge, thick trees of Konohagakure, lit by blues and blacks of the night-time sky, they would tumble in the dirt together, hands and mouths grasping and touching. The older nin would lay flat in the soil and moist grass patches, knees slightly bent as a perch for his younger companion, who would slide down on top of the other's straightened manhood, wrapping him tight in his own flesh. Their hips would glide mutually together, until the youth riding on top would arch his long back, proudly saluting the cold sky with a serene look on his pale face.
At night, after the blond fell asleep, body weakened by work and training and no doubt giving his all to everything, be it his mission or sexual discourse; the brunette would roll over on to his side and feverishly draw pictures in his little book. He didn't know why, or what inspiration actually was, (or that it was lying at his side), but he drew contently with his brush nearly every night, sometimes of his own exploits or sometimes of his Nii-san's, in the other half of the book.
"Nii-san," the slim brunette called as his counterpart approached him with a wave and a smile. They met in a kiss, as was coming habitual, falling together with the other youth's gloved thumb brushing his companion's chin, taking his soft lips with his own. They didn't waste time on pathic talk, on conversational nothings about how the mission went, because such words meant nothing, and they were willing to acknowledge that they meant nothing, compared to them both just being there. Instead they kissed, more, the skinny black-haired one draping his arms around the other's neck, leaning in to suck his Nii-san's warm lips like a child suckling his nourishment.
In a moment the older boy took his partner up against the rough rock face of the side of the mountain where tonight they were supposed to sleep. He lifted the thin, strong legs to his waist where they settled quite willingly on his hips, locking into place like a living puzzle.
Nii-san's mouth migrated to his partner's neck, lapping up the taste and licking in places where the skin was taut and cool. The brunette looked out into the scenery, admiring especially the greens and browns of the valley, thinking about what it would be like to have the resources to paint in colour. The sunset was nearly over; the remaining light glowed against the pure pallet of his white skin and washed it golden yellow.
Easily balancing the thin boy with one arm, the older nin slipped down his own pants and his partner's soon after, leading a hand down the bare back, across the curve of his tailbone and into the separation of his rear. The black-haired beauty looked directly at him, eyes without secrets, serene and clear, mouth straight and soft, willing and open like a blossom.
Nii-san mustered a bit of a smile, and with an accompanying grunt of struggle he touched his member, eager to slick it and take his partner. The brunette pet the back of his comrade's neck, taking in the intent look on that slightly squarer, more masculine face, tipping his own face in contemplation. He felt almost a duty to relieve his sempai, but it was nothing political or semantic, and he didn't understand it fully. He waited patiently as the blond briefly wet his fingers and sunk one into his companion's entrance. The brunette's body reacted, arching beautifully against the rock face, neck straightened boldly.
The brunette watched silently as his sempai licked his fingers more, in a rather rough and greedy way, red tongue darting out against the tanned digits. He knew what it meant to be wanted, had seen the look on the faces of many, but wasn't flattered by it, though the look of longing in his Nii-san's eyes was much purer than any other's.
The brunette's young, wet body had no difficulty taking cock, delighted in it as though it was the only natural thing still left that the young nin could do. He couldn't smile, couldn't love, so sex was a natural impulse that spoke a secret tongue to his far depths, one that not even he could realize the meaning of.
His face remained still and serene as his eyes travelled his sempai's body, his muscular neck and arms holding him, proud waist and thighs, and penis, arched in a radiant posture, glowing wet in the setting sun. As an artist, the brunette appreciated the shape and tones of his comrade's body, but knew not the implications of the word "beautiful", and so he thought nothing of it, and thus said little, remained quietly compliant in his comrade's arms.
The brunette let out a long moan when his Nii-san slid inside his body, full and strong, and then again as his first spasm passed through him, sending shudders down its path. He cried out and grabbed his partner's shoulders with the next thrust that slid fully in him again, claiming his passage with unyielding heat.
Nii-san groaned himself, teeth grit with strain. The brunette bounced against his next movement, as if startled by a vision. His black eyes were pressed shut, head tipped down into his chest, redness growing imperceptibly on his pale cheeks and nose and forehead.
In a moment the rhythm started to fall into place, and the brunette jolted this time with pleasure, tightening the hold of his legs about the blond's waist, his flesh eagerly sucking the member in. The blond's pace hurried and his companion lifted his head, panting in a beautiful, crisp tone.
"Nii-san . . ." the brunette gasped out, "I think I love you."
In response the blonde laughed a little bit of a meaningless laugh, because the statement was so absurd and foreign that that was all that he could think to do. There was no malice in his voice, in fact a bit of charismatic politeness lingered in his smile. "You don't love anyone. What makes you think that you love me?"
The brunette winced, fighting his threatening release. As he tensed his partner cried too, though able to keep his control.
"My penis gets hard when you touch me," the brunette replied breathily, pleasure evading his body and his senses to the point that he wasn't exactly sure himself what he was saying. But his answer came naturally, as naturally as his movements in response to each of his partner's thrusts.
"Silly!" the blond laughed again, a bit of sweat encroaching on his temple. He moved his hands up the other's pale back to tip him into a better pose, to reach him deeper. "That's not a sign of loving someone."
"But my heart-" the raven-haired gasped again, unable to fight his fingers gripping tighter and tighter his companion's back. "My heart beats fast when you touch me, when you're near me. That's- ah-ah! A sign of loving someone . . ."
The blond was unconvinced, though in a desperate way, his smile resurfaced. He lowered his partner's body so their chests came closer, their noses, mouths, and met in another kiss. When he continued, his thin comrade's hardness brushed his abdomen on each thrust and the boy cried out as the sensation deepened.
"You . . . don't love anyone," Nii-san replied, insisted. For a moment he looked a little disappointed, as if he'd failed a mission, but the moment passed when he felt himself nearing his finish. He thrust up powerfully into his partner's insides, the searing heat surrounding his cock grew and rose and he thought fleetingly that he could never, ever bring himself to leave it when he came hard inside the comfortable passage.
The blond rocked a little more until his slighter companion came, with the grace befitting a ninja, an artist, the unearthly beauty he was – head raised to the darkening sky, giving a little gasp of wonder, fingers still enwrapped in tight folds of black uniform. Nii-san thought he may have seen tears on his comrade's cheeks as he rose, but the brunette shook his head like a bather emerging into the cool evening air, removing all traces of the endeavour.
They kissed again, hard against the side of the mountain, hearts beating frantically, breaths coming measured through their noses, and Nii-san stayed inside his younger companion for as long as he could, until they had to eventually separate to make camp.
That night, the brunette explored his comrade's body with his jet black eyes, took out his book to draw. In the glow of the campfire, rested on his side, he ran his fingers down the meagre centerfold, and the two remaining blank pages, captivated by reaching the middle of the book and what it was he meant to put there.
A few days later, Nii-san got sick. They said it wasn't contagious, and that 304 could touch him still, if he wanted, but the brunette didn't really want too, because he was sick. The sickness was something unfamiliar that attacked his cells from the inside, and the medical nin travelling with the team were unable to find a way to stop it.
As they were days from a town with medical resources of any sort, and the mission could not be abandoned no matter what, they had to carry Nii-san with them on a stretcher until help was found.
The brunette recruit watched across the camp as his Nii-san was loaded into a canvas stretcher, wrapped up and tied in so that he would not fall out, as he was lately too weak even to hold himself in. The blonde winced with a jolt of movement, face flushed with fever, but he smiled over at the brunette when he caught his pure black eyes. The younger ninja wished right then, breifly, that he could properly smile back, but he didn't know how.
They were nearly in the same position a few days later when the young brunette learned that his faux big brother was dead. Passed away on the stretcher mid-morning, still body wrapped in sterile white, the little glimpse of his face was peaceful. Word reached the Root ninja with jet black hair and eyes moments after the fact and when he heard it, he merely stared. He stared and stared and didn't know what else to do.
The brunette thumbed customarily at his little picture book, rubbing the spine and slipping into the centerfold with his pale digit. He didn't look inside, but snapped it shut and put it back in his backpack.
287 was crossed off of the troop list, buried in an unmarked grave far from the camp. The brunette didn't know where they put his Nii-san, and didn't really care, because he was dead. Forevermore he was dead and gone.
304 continued a solitary existence in Root, kept to himself and his drawings from then on, became a truly skilled ninjutsu user thanks to his old hobby. He remained loyal to his company and became so good at what it was he did that he was assigned a top secret mission by the very man who started the division. A mission he took on without question.
He carried with him his ink, scrolls – for executing his techniques; papers, sketchbook, as well as his unfinished picture book, though by now the reason he ever drew in it at all was nearly completely gone from his mind.
. . .
That turned out lamer than expected. I tried to focus on the senses more than thoughts and feelings because, well, those are foreign concepts to this particular subject. I think my characterization of Nii-san was kinda shoddy, but so little is known about him . . . which is why it was so shoddy . . . ? Yes, I did it on purpose! Heh . . . This was my first time writing Sai, and first time writing Sai-uke. Sai is an undeniably sexual character, and while I like him topping/molesting Naruto, Sai as an uke is a concept that's really growing on me.
Thanks for reading; feedback is appreciated!