Chapter Two: she knows, but she knows not why.
My first impression of Sasuke from the very beginning until now hasn't changed in the least.
As a character, I thought he was larger-than-life. As a person I thought basically along the same lines.
And I think it all boils down to the fact that he's hard to predict.
Sure, regarding some things, he's blatantly easy to read. Like joining Orochimaru for power to kill his brother.
Maybe it would be more accurate to say that his emotion of hatred was easy to read from him.
Other emotions...I'd say not so much. Especially love.
I mean...just look at how he is with Naruto and Sakura and it should tell you everything. They were his second family practically after the massacre and he treats them like utter shit.
But I digress.
What brought all of this on was this inkling of suspicion I had.
That Sasuke loved me. Or at least felt some sort of romantic-ish inclination towards me.
But...why? I didn't talk, he knew practically nothing about me other than I showed up one day in front of him and begged him to save me.
He didn't know what kind of person I was and I'm under no impression that I was beautiful enough to enchant somebody like Sasuke. He was far more attractive than I could ever hope to be, objectively speaking.
I didn't mind to be discouraged though. Long gone were the days where I had been vain about my appearance. The prettier you were, the more popular you became at the whore-house after-all.
Looks were a hindrance if you stood out too much either in a good way or a bad way. Perhaps the best was to be merely average.
But I'm getting off track. (yet again.)
Nevertheless I was quite certain. After months and months of careful observation...that Sasuke Uchiha was in love with me.
We're lying in his bed again. A cramped space for two bodies considering it was built for one and so the our forms are always plastered against one another despite whichever one of Orochimaru's dens we end up taking residence for that week, month etc.
His body usually caged me in, against the wall. And I usually faced said wall when we've finished the usual 'nightly activities'.
Usually. Today I hadn't turned away from Sasuke's gaze yet when usually I would've by now.
It was dark. But I lay close to him and there was a dim light in the corner. So I was able to make out the appearance of Sasuke raising his eyebrows.
For a second I wondered how to ask him without...you know, actually asking him.
In the end I came up with the idea to trace words onto his bare chest. There were just two characters I needed to draw (slowly,) and then a question mark.
When I finished writing, I looked up to see an...intrigued expression on his face.
"...you knew how to write?"
I nod.
"And read?"
I nodded again.
He scowled.
"Next time I'll bring you a piece of paper so you have to write down your name." this time, I shook my head in a refusing gesture.
He clicked his tongue but let it go.
"So you wanted to know if I loved you?"
I nodded...slowly. Unsure.
All of a sudden, the arm that remained snaked over my torso pulled me so close that I was centimeters apart from his face and could count the number of eyelashes he had in detail if I pleased.
"What a stupid question to ask. Now, sleep." he commands, hands brushing through my hair in an activation of a genjutsu*.
An illusion.
Including myself, there were only three of us that spoke the common language of these lands. That is, the two Japanese girls (they were miraculously friends who transferred together) and yours truly.
It made sense. Naruto was a Japanese comic.
What didn't make sense was to have me be the survivor of us three.
Sure, my grasp on the language was decent with having spoken it at home and being taught under the strict tutelage of my tiger-mom but I wasn't a native speaker. (I was the child of two first generation Japanese immigrant parents).
But then again, I was slightly older than the two school-girls and way more dweeb-ier. The Naruto series (although endlessly famous in Japan) had seen its end around the time I was a freshman in high school.
So for them, it would be more common to see Boruto airing on the television than its older counterpart prequel.
But I'm pretty sure they would've been able to recognize Naruto if they saw him. Or even if they caught a glimpse of the hitai-ate headbands maybe it would've jogged something in the memory.
It was just too damn bad that the Madame of the prostitution house was a damn good businesswoman and never tried to make customers of shinobi. (the bad ones would either trick you and the good ones would try to shut the whole operation down).
Besides, ninjas weren't that rich anyways. They made up the workers, not the boss.
I think about those girls a lot though.
For example, there's always this ongoing debate in my head as to whether it was misfortune that the two girls got dumped here together or if the real tragedy was that they ever became friends at all.
Because later on, the two friends ended up betraying each other. Maybe 'stabbed in the back' would be a more accurate description. Either way, buckling under the pressure of the wretched environment we were placed in, one was willing to cast the other into the darkest pits of hell for merely the hope of being able to see the light.
And the only ones to witness this entire tragedy from start to finish had been me and Sasuke.
The thing is, if it had been Naruto we'd encountered that night, we would've been all saved. And yet, we would also recognize with dawning horror the implications of his existence.
But Sasuke was the one to show up and the two girls, without even knowing anything except for what they could see-that he was strongstrongstrong-threw away their pride dignity and humanity to begin squabbling about who he 'should' save.
Meanwhile I was in hiding after stumbling upon the scene but also trying really hard not to burst into a fit of hysterical giggles.
Eventually one of two former 'friends' stabbed the other to death and, till this day I think of the image as the single most disturbing thing I'd ever witnessed in my life.
In terms of physical gruesome-ness, this single death didn't quite match up to the mass homicide of half our survivor group but there was a certain psychological horror element to it that made the whole thing seem much worse.
It was one thing to be killed by a stranger or an enemy but another to be murdered by your friend.
And hell, it wasn't even my friendship but scenes of when I saw the two comforting and crying with each other when we all first got transported to this world flashed through my mind at that moment.
The other one, the remaining one, still begged Sasuke to save her for the price of anything in return. She clasped her bloody hands together like in a prayer to a God and I watched in helpless reverie.
I was the spectator to this entire dramatic tragedy and also its narrator.
Sasuke kills her unhesitantly and then his red red eyes are turned to me and I flinched at first but then my posture melted at the realization that he was going to kill me too and I smiled in genuine relief.
Let it be said again that being plucked from a safe and normal environment only to be sold into sexual slavery had fucked me up.
My mind was ready to go. (or perhaps it was long gone)
But my heart refused to stop beating even as my sanity ceased to function. That is what it means to survive.
So I begged the boy 5 years my junior at the time to let me live in exchange for the only thing I had that I knew would be of interest to him.
That, was our 'deal'.