The Curse Queen
A/N: I was feeling a little evil, so I decided to take over ze world! That didn't pan out so I'll write this while I think of a plan B. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the Naruto manga/anime!
Chapter 1: The Art of Evil
Sakura was getting distracted… again. She loved her job. Don't get her wrong. It paid the bills and then some as well kept her embedded within the very heart of culture itself. Sometimes it led her to some crazy people but most of the time she could deal with it. There was just one man that she truly detested just because her instincts told her to. Danzo Shimura never failed to scare her.
She didn't know why she was so jumpy around him. She shouldn't be. She was an entrepreneur, a very successful buyer and seller of art. She could spot a great artist from a mile away and she could make them and herself very wealthy. Her good word was all that was needed nowadays to make or break an upcoming artist.
She was a highly intelligent, very successful, independent young woman at the early age of 24. If anyone should feel nervous it should be Danzo since she could virtually control his career. Depending on how you look at it, it was unfortunate that Sakura had powerful instincts that told her to GTFO every time Danzo was in the same room. He would look at her with his beady, scheming, and calculating rat eyes with an 'I know something you don't know' look. It was completely irrational to be afraid of your own cash cow but something about him was completely off.
Another thing that didn't make a whole lot of sense was what he painted. From the way he looked and acted Sakura would expect him to paint the fires of hell time and time again. Instead he did portraits of men that could easily be mistaken for angels. Why handsome young men? She had no clue and frankly she didn't care. There were many wealthy women in town who bought as many of those portraits as they could afford. You'd think they were cheesecake or something. Sakura hated the paintings.
Don't get her wrong. The art was fantastic. They were so detailed, too detailed even. Many women found themselves falling for freaking paintings. Sakura hated them because of how very lifelike they were. It seemed like they were looking out at the world with a cold blank stare as if judging it from within the canvas. Each and every portrait was of a different person and Danzo never allowed duplicates. This made the prices skyrocket but Sakura still found it very odd.
"Are you even listening, Sakura-san?" Danzo practically hissed. That was normal for him though. She didn't think he knew how to be civilized with her. Luckily after quite a bit of experience Sakura naturally picked up on how to handle him. When he was like this it was best to talk business and add a little ego boost to make it look like she was doing her job and not looking for an opportunity to escape.
"I was just considering potential buyers Shimura-san. Seeing as how your latest painting has an entire family of stunning models instead of the usual solitary subject, it should fetch quite a sum." Sakura stated with a poker face that could put even his expressionless paintings to shame. At first it seemed like the old buzzard was onto her, but like most people would, he accepted the compliment.
"See to it that it does." He ordered as the "closing ritual," as she called it, commenced. He didn't trust her enough to actually allow her to touch his works so she had no choice but to take a picture that she could show to potential buyers instead. Then he would pack up his stuff, without letting her touch a single piece, and be on his way. Yet when she looked up from the camera she shivered seeing that the "closing ritual" was broken. Danzo had a gentlemanly smile on his face that positively scared her to death. She was fairly certain that catastrophe must have struck somewhere in the world and he sensed it. She had never seen him smile like that to anyone.
"Sakura-san I would like to present a little gift to you to show my appreciation for everything you have done for me. If it wasn't for you, I would most likely still be struggling for my next meal. I would like to give you a token of my gratitude that I painted just for you." Danzo spoke so politely. What does he want? That was the only thing that came to Sakura's mind. Then her mind went blank as her eyes took in the beautiful painting before her.
In the painting in front of her there was a stunning young man with shaggy yet beautiful red hair, unusual cinnamon colored eyes, a face made up of straight lines, a perfect nose, and a strong angular jaw. He had the same blank expression that all Danzo painted portraits had, but it was a highly unusual painting for the man she called old rat face. Usually everything about the portraits would be neutral from the color of their clothes to their expressions. The man in this portrait was looking out at the world with a defiant stance.
His legs were slightly spread and his arms were crossed over his (drool worthy) chest. His shoulders were back and he looked like his chest was puffed up. Sakura had never seen anyone with a blank expression look so proud and rebellious at the same time.
He looked so real that Sakura found herself blushing uncontrollably. That made her blush even more due to the fact it was a painting. She touched the simple wood frame and suddenly all hell broke loose.
She actually felt waves of rage and hate flowing from the painting. It was rather like shaking hands with Danzo yet somehow it was more intense, like the art work had been made from emotion instead of paint. Sakura immediately retracted her hand. She wanted nothing to do with that painting.
She quickly gathered her things with Danzo looking at her curiously. For the first time she was listening to her instincts and was fleeing from the room before Danzo could stop her. She just hoped she didn't start listening too late.
-The next day-
Sakura punched her pillow in frustration. Why you ask? Because she caught herself daydreaming for the 10th freaking time! What's worse is that it starred the redheaded man from the portrait she saw the day before. It was difficult to admit to herself, and it was impossible for her to say it out loud but she was lonely. It disgusted her and made her feel weak because she felt like she needed a man to be complete and that did not fit what she thought was her personality. On the other hand she was 24 and never been kissed. Men had tried but they had been quite disgusting in their perverted ways. The made it clear they wanted in her pants and she made it clear it was too soon. They called her a prude. She broke their noses and no one argued when she told them it was self defense. The cops had always tried to tell her she had bad taste in men. If only they could see me fantasizing over a painting. I may be an art lover but this is an all time low in my love life.
She sighed. Was it so hard to wait for sex until they developed feelings for each other? If high school was bad college was worse and so on. She had gotten a reputation as cold. She supposed they could call her worse but it still hurt.
Sakura decided to go read or something, when a knock sounded from her front door. When she made the mistake of opening it, a huge package was stuffed through her doorway and she was made to sign for it. She was just full of mistakes today wasn't she? She didn't realize it though until she reached into the package and pulled out the painting Danzo had claimed to paint for her. Up close Sakura noticed something that she had never taken in before. It looked nothing like any painting that she had ever seen. There wasn't a single brush stroke, the surface was totally even, and there wasn't even a signature or any out of place mark or mistake.
Visually it didn't seem to have any texture at all. The too beautiful man seemed far too real. It was more like looking through an open window than anything she had ever seen. Perhaps she was pulled by an invisible force that made her lose her common sense. Perhaps she was possessed. She didn't know how or why it happened when everything inside her screamed in agony at the move she was making but couldn't stop. She gently brushed her fingertips over the image. It didn't feel like paint. It felt like the hellfire she imagined Danzo would paint.
Her mind became a train wreck. Her heart felt like it was being crushed while her head exploded with pain. There was a deafening hum in her ears, an abused drum in her mind, and her vision was suddenly clouded by a fog of pain. In the next instant the world began to pitch itself until she couldn't tell the difference between right and left, forward or back, while her chest caught fire and something engraved itself on her heart and soul, branding her. Something clawed at her hand, attempting to grasp it and when it did so it pulled her down.
When the world stopped trying to fling her into the depths of outer space and her senses were returned to her she looked down expecting to see everything that she had felt yet there wasn't even a slight wrinkle in her clothing. She hadn't even fallen down, but the strange man gasping on the ground and clinging to her hand had apparently taken her place.
He looked up at her with a glare that seemed to burn flesh and freeze the soul all at once. Her thought process ground to a halt when she noticed the red hair and cinnamon eyes. As she stared she realized he was the painting come to life. If that wasn't strange enough the painting was now nothing more than an empty black background. In the next moment when he smacked her hand away, her legs gave out and gravity brought her swiftly to the ground. The man looked at her with something that could only be described as contempt and to Sakura's annoyance he just got right up and began to walk away.
"Wait you!" He seemed to stumble but if he did he recovered quicker than the average human eye could see. "Where did you come from? How did you get in my house?! Who are you?! Tell me what's going on!" Sakura commanded. She hoped he didn't notice the waver in her voice. It was from shock but by the way he was sneering at her over his shoulder it was clear he had heard and didn't care what caused it. He made his way towards her and reached towards her throat apparently intent on strangling her. Under normal circumstances she would have run like hell but she really wasn't paying close attention to him due to a strange sensation taking place inside her chest. It was as if someone had wrapped her heart inside warm fluffy blanket. She felt invincible yet protected all at once. It was so comforting that she thought she might fall asleep until an agonized roar sliced through the air.
The stranger was on the ground gasping for air on his hands and knees. One hand came up to tear at his shirt and Sakura felt faint when she saw his nails extend into claws. His shirt was quickly torn open and to Sakura's shock there was a perfect cherry blossom with green leaves surrounding it. The leaves and cherry blossom were the same color as her eyes and (of course) her hair. Mr. Sexy Angst closed his eyes as if in anguish before he looked at the marking with pure loathing and tore into it with his claws. Sakura went from shocked to astonished when it healed almost as quickly as he ripped at it, but any laceration that that went outside of the strange cherry blossom was much slower to heal. The sight of the tattoo seemed to be what had hurt him most. Though Sakura wasn't exactly fond of this guy for trying to kill her, she didn't enjoy seeing people suffer no matter how much they may deserve it. She grabbed at his clawed hand and forced him to stop attempting to tear the bizarre tattoo from his chest.
Once he stopped, she offered her hand to help him up and to her utmost surprise he looked hesitant. From the way he's looking at me, you'd think I'd done the damage. Sakura thought to herself. She just kept staring him down even when he started searching her eyes for a hidden intent that was not there. She thought of just retracting her hand but something inside her told her to be patient and wait for him. Finally she felt his fingers grasp at her own.
With Sakura's help he managed to slowly rise to his feet. Sakura could feel that he was attempting to do so without resting too much of his weight on her. When she looked at him to confirm her thought he simply looked angry and very confused.
"In answer to your earlier questions, I don't know where I came from. That," The redhead pointed to the canvas. "wipes out the majority of our memories and feelings. The reason I'm in your house is because you opened a portal from the prison curse cast on that canvas and I came through it because it offered an escape. My name is Sasori, and rather than who am I, it should be what am I. I'm an immortal being much like you. Humans tend to regard my kind as demons just because we are immortal and we hate their kind. If we loved them and served them we could just as easily be called angels." He made a sour face but continued despite how reluctant he seemed. "You altered my curse. It was a prison curse, but now it's a prisoners curse." At the woman's confused stare Sasori sighed knowing he'd have to explain further or risk invoking the curse's wrath. "You are a curse queen. Didn't any of your predecessors tell you this?" He asked as if she believed all this.
"What kind of fairytale is this? Immortals, demons, angels, and curses, you talk as if these were everyday occurrences! I've never heard of a curse queen, and now you're telling me I'm one of them! What the hell is this crap?" Sakura was on the verge of hysterics after everything that had happened. All her bravery, stupidity, or whatever it was that allowed her to deal with this was gone without a trace after seeing this creature pop out of a painting, seeing the self inflicted gashes heal in an instant, and of course the information overload that wasn't as hard to believe as Sakura was letting on. Something about the word seemed so real as if she were wondering what she was all her life and someone had given her the answer.
"You can choose to believe or to reject, but unfortunately this mark on my chest is now too powerful for me to lie to you. If I do anything to contradict my servitude I'll be the one to suffer most for it. Besides the truth will make itself evident in time." He stated in such a nonchalant manner Sakura wondered if maybe they were both bonkers. "Though I suppose if you truly need proof, you can just look at your own chest to see if you have a mark that matches mine."
That froze her on the spot. As soon as the shock was replaced by adrenaline laced fear she pulled her shirt forward to search the area of chest above her bra. Sure enough, there sitting proudly on her breast was a cherry blossom mark that was the exact same shape as his, right down to the engraved leaves beneath it. The only difference she could detect was the coloring. While his was pink and green hers was a red blossom with sharp, cinnamon leaves. Sakura was officially overloaded, and like most overloaded people she went through an all systems shutdown. Sakura fainted before she could even make a cry of distress.