Challenge

PART # 3

Perhaps the most ironic component of this entire ordeal was the simple fact that he didn't anticipate meeting someone with such a conflicting personality, and losing them so quickly. He recalled that moment where he had felt a need to experience her physically—not in a strong sense, but in a small taste, to realise if she was real or not. She had been bitter through the ordeal, and he had discovered something about her that he thought not possible in the past. He had found someone who shared his views in an ideal resting place. Somewhere that was quiet, without jutsu, shinobi, or war. But it appeared that she found that place in the afterlife. He often considered the possibility, too. It was never guaranteed, but the afterlife was the one place where you could imagine your sanctuary.

How did a fiery redhead share his ideals on where he should really be?

Bitterly enough, he had expected his baby brother to share his views on peaceful life. But to his own chagrin, Sasuke did not share that same view. His clan, itself, did not share it. The world lacked the similar view he desired, from his own life. Shinobi were necessary, desired, and always will exist. But to find that rare person who desired life without shinobi present. He had stumbled over a diamond, on a landmine.

She had fallen asleep after coughing fits, and he had managed to stay near the bed, away from her temperous behaviour, to observe her in the rare moments of silence she portrayed. In a sleeping state, she looked more tranquil that he could imagine. However, it also revealed just how soon her state was receeding. Her condition was very weak already, and he supposed these would be the last few hours he maintained with her. Perhaps all she desired was time to spend with a person who wasn't quite like Orochimaru—he could assume anyone would deeply desire that much. But she never revealed information on herself. He hadn't done the same either. They were both criminals and enemies, even until the very end.

But this attachment, is abnormal. And it only served to make him even more irritated with himself. This would deviate from his goal-if he attempted to save this girl. If she were to die, it would be a simple ending to his complex life, and perhaps the easiest way to hide that he and Kisame had rescued someone from Orochimaru.

When she shifted a little, he made no movement to help, but he did release a heavy sigh in contrast to the coughing she immediately let out. It was barely the end of the day, and already he knew the end of her life would be sometime during the night. Afterwards, he would need a well thought out excuse for burying a body, and some method of hiding her from Tobi. If he became aware of her, he would try to utilize her, and that was useless now. She was dying, and deceased people deserved a proper burial. To breech death was as ill-thought of as snatching the gods from heaven and placing them on earth. Forbidden, much like the techniques used to revive the deceased. He didn't plan to let her fall into hands like that, because he understood just how he would feel if someone violated his deceased self, as well. Instead, he had every intention to burn her after her death.

Humanity had not left him, entirely, after all.

"Trash. What are you staring at me like that, for?" she asked, and he suddenly realised those dark eyes were locked on him. Much in a way that he didn't expect, a simple stare could tell so much more about her than his own did. Deceptive as he was, she was open. A book waiting to be read. She wasn't afraid of showing herself. Did that compel him? But what really motivated him was—what did she find so entrancing about himself? She didn't seem fond of physical appearance. Perhaps she was perplexed in the same way he was. They were both simply so challenging that they couldn't help but find one another appealing, in that sense. "Your cough," he spoke. It was both a lie, and the truth. He mused over her death while she slept, and he was certain he would continue doing so, even after her death.

She stayed looking in his direction with a calm expression—laced with exhaustion. She was as tired as he was, and she probably wanted to go to sleep. But given that she was speaking to him, she was probably incapable of doing so. "It's like you said," she suddenly said, but not before coughing violently. "I don't have long. Let me live what little I have. You can think shit afterwards." Her harsh words gave way for a more heavy meaning, behind her words. She was almost telling him to let her enjoy what time she had left. He didn't give a response to any of it, but his hand, did reach out to grasp onto her wrist again. This time, however, he held it firmly. For what might have been the roughest way he could hold her hand. He had seen this sort of reaction from his father, on a few occasions, when he meant to convey, to his mother, just how much she had meant to him. He had not seen this sort of gesture between ordinary people, and he had thought he would never attempt it on any ordinary person. But what exactly was normal about 'Tayuya'?

When she stared back with confused eyes, he let his other hand shift over to her shirts top, fingers curling around the hem in order to grasp it. The meshy outfit was ruined. Besides the fact that it was covered in blood and grass stains, it was torn. He had never changed it due to the fact that he had no female apparel for her. He would need to burn it with her when she passed on, to avoid leading Orochimaru in his direction. His confrontation with his brother, would take time. His other hand shifted to her elbow, and then to her shoulder, until he could sit on the side of the bed, very near to her body. Through silence alone, he managed to convey to her what was running through his mind-his thoughts. It was evident in the red blush that spread over her cheeks, despite the darkness covering both of them, in the room. The sun had set, after all.

"That's.. that's insane. We only met yesterday."

But he wanted to say that the connection was there. He had no idea how it had happened. Rushed? Yes, but he was past adolescence, and she was probably approaching it, as well. Too often he had heard that his clansmen had chosen women they found static and homely enough to raise children and cook. He had always thought the same for himself. But a woman who was almost, created to combat him—intellectually, and perhaps physically. How would that not be perfect for himself? Leaning his head down, he allowed his darkbangs to curtain both of them. He had to move over her a little, in order to do so, of course. "You challenged me," he answered, quietly.

Neither knew quite what to say, besides the simple fact that the past two days had led to this. He wasn't certain if he had been fated to encounter her over Kisame rescuing her. But he was well aware that her presence had changed something. If not everything. His only reason for not being able to leave behind his goal was that his brother meant more to him than anyone. Even something as complex as attraction.

The calls of the wind and the moon in the night sky only made him appear even more strangely dark. Her red hair seemed coaxed into a dull shade, under the coo of the night sky. She looked more feminine in this sense. "You rat," she accused, but in a softer, decadent tone. "You challenged me." It was true, he had. But she had been the first challenge he couldn't quite escape. Insults, and other small things that were not used to describe Uchiha Itachi, simply flew from her and reached out to him in colours and expressions. He was enamoured. His hand gripped her shoulder even tighter, and his head tilted until he could let his lips remain close to her ear. Her hair was very soft, unlike her behaviour. He often found it strange that he had such long hair, but most women desired short hair. Her long hair was nice—the smell, like leaves and ash—left him oddly unfulfilled.

"This will be a beginning."

His last? He had never had a first. But he found that saying that would admit too much. They had both cast facades over one another, until there were so many secrets. He had decided to keep them. Until his death, which would be inevitable given his illness. Her expression remained ghastly, until a faint smile cracked over her features. He had to move back to look at the smile, one laced with irony, and brief joy. She was a very simple person, even in her happiness. "An ending, too, you rat," she responded. His hand removed itself from her shoulder, and shifted down to grab the other side of her shirt. He pressed his forehead to hers, in a very soft, but very expressive reaction. While his hand began to inch her upper garement off of her. It slid off so easily, he could barely move away. Within moments, the top was gone, and he pressed an open mouthed kiss to her neck.

The night curtained away any sight of the village, and he indulged in the unusual presence he found himself needing. Naturally, he had been incapable of letting himself near her in a terribly intimate way, but she had managed to doze off in his presence once he had marred her skin. The damaged follicles were easy to notice, and he had taken care to slip under the covers to avoid giving her a chill. Connection was all he found himself requiring, and the connection was evidently there. His hand shifted over her clothed chest, and he inhaled the smell of blood and dried leaves. She would die soon, and he would require three more years.

Morning signalled the sound of her coughing, and this time, he could tell it was too close to her ending. With the sight of red blood covering her outfits and the bedsheets, her nausea and suffering increased, and he had decided that it was time to allow her to decide her own fate. Most shinobi were capable of pulling through with medication. But she had evidently chosen death over her own life. She had no reason to live anymore. He found it ironic that her goal had been completed as well, and she seemed satisfied with it. Although he had not asked what it was. It would require admitting his own goals.

When she seemed almost deceased, with weak breathing and the liking, he thought back to the night, and to how he had attempted to hold her close. It had been an attempt at understanding her, and gaining. But instead, he found he had to lose in order to gain. The more he lost, the more his companions gained. That was all he could truly hope for.

He had intended to turn and leave the room when her fingers curled around his arm, holding him in place. He glanced back at her, and inhaled through his nose. He almost didn't understand how she could bear to see him when she was this unhealthy. "Listen, Itachi," she spoke. She had used his name, at last. But he knew these were her last few words. "I'm done. So, do me one last favour." One last favour. He couldn't think well, even as he nodded his head in acceptance of her terms. She required one favour, and he found himself waiting to hear what she wanted. He could only do so much, but a last honour was something of an honour for the shinobi about to caste it.

"Kill me."

Her words were soft. But he found he couldn't stop hearing them. Echoing around his head, repeating itself to him. She wanted him to kill her. It only reminded him of the Uchiha Massacre, and how he had been chosen to kill his clan. It appeared he was constantly chosen for murdering those he had come to be closer to. She was asking the most impossible of tasks from him, and he relented ever agreeing. Her hand shifted to his, eyes bearing heavily onto him. She was quite serious. "I'm in pain. If it ends quickly, you can go sooner. It's obvious you're still chasing some sort of trash." How amused he was, that she was assuming what he was after. But in a sense, she was not wrong. He was chasing his brother's honour, and he would die for it if he had to. She was asking for a mercy he assumed she would not have asked from anyone else. She had confidence, that he would.

He closed his eyes, and he attempted to ignore his weakness. "You're certain?" he asked. And she responded immediately with an affirmative. She wanted to die. At his hands. He felt his stomach churn, but he listened. He understood. And he could only let himself reach for the kunai strapped at his leg. He held it out towards her chest. "Don't be a wuss, rat. Hurry up," she encouraged. "Get this over with."

"Tayuya," he added, quickly, and he pressed the tip of the sharp kunai against her chest. She was listening, and anticipating.

"I'll be late, but I will be under that tree."

He plunged the kunai into her chest.

(break)

When he had set her corpse on fire, outside in the grass, the smell of burning ash went up into the sky, escaping with the breeze. It would be as if no trace of her remained. He would have continued on normally had not the form of the masked man appeared beside him. Clothed in the Akatsuki robes, he appeared natural, had he not been staring at the fire intently.

"Who was she?" he asked, with an amused tone. Itachi hardly told others of who he associated with, as limited as the number was. But this once, he found himself musing in how two days had changed everything he had once considered concrete of himself. But to tell others her identity, would be to lose a part of her he intended to keep to himself. Deciding against speaking, the full truth, he instead watched the remainder of her body burn away under the crisp orange flames. He was fine knowing he would join her one day. Not the present, but in a future, where he hoped his brother was free of all conflict. "A person who took part in defaming the Uchiha clan," he responded. And the masked man stared at him, quietly, likely attempting to understand what he meant. "What was she to you?" he asked, then. Itachi shook his head, and turned around to begin walking away, only hearing the faint grass footsteps as Tobi followed.