-Surrender-

(If You Can Bear The Pain)

They lead her silently down a long dark chamber, her feeble eyesight unable to penetrate the darkness. She finds that for a moment, this thought particularly troubles her- but it is merely another shadow of memory that she cannot recall. She stumbles behind them, always it seemed one step away from tripping over the hem of the beautiful kimono, now certain it had been a gift created with her in mind. The sleeves of the kimono were long, the silk beautifully draped and patterned with the auburn beauty of an autumn sunset. She made a delicate, graceful image with her head bowed and cheeks warm, but in the sleeves she wrung her hands almost painfully, distractedly. Her entire body was shuddering faintly, rattled with the echo of her thoughts. Ichi and Ni seemed to take peculiar note of this- they walked slowly, as if to give her time to reclaim her wits, and her composure.

'His woman!' She thought dumbly, struggling to come to terms with the words, murmured with such finality, such truth. 'I...I am his woman!' Such a thing! She was...she was...again she felt her body tremble, at the expectations, the implications of the words. And what was it that kept women did for their Masters? Her head felt as if it were filled to the brim with uncertainty, assaulted by images that made her feel faint. How was she expected to act, to behave, to present herself? However long she had slept- whether it had been ten years or twenty- her modesty had remained perfectly intact- of that she was certain. Or at least- thinking of it being otherwise could prove dangerous to her already delicate psyche. It was hard enough to come to terms with this woman that she was, stripped of her identity, memory- robbed even of her dreams...but to be a kept woman as well! Even remembering the kiss of the blue eyed man on the back of her hand had made her flush- but to think of more- to have to do more! She followed them at a trembling pace, wanting to prolong the journey if only to give herself time to come to grips with it.

To meet her Lord for the first time...and then to be his woman! She shuddered again, heat flooding her face so that for a moment she felt as if the dark would come for her again, that black curtain of unconsciousness falling over her without warning. She struggled to fight it, to focus on the sight of Ichi before her, the white of her robes glowing faintly in the darkness, the black of her hair and eyes swallowed in the gloom.

She looked like a ghost child, a spirit leading her further into the depths of some darkness from which she would never return. The thought made a cold shiver run down the length of her spine- because that was what it felt like, as if her every step was leading her to an end. Behind her, Ni held the long train of her kimono, their steps silent and swift. Ichi takes many turns, weaving a complicated path that she knew she would not be able to recall- but it helps her clear her mind, focusing on the winding path helping to alleviate some of her anxiety- if only for a moment. She is occupied by the realization that she would never be able to find her way back, or to pick a path through the tall, winding halls.

"Do not fear My Lady," Ichi assured her, as if sensing her discomfort. "Come sunrise we will give you the tour of your estate."

"M-My...e-e-estate?" she murmured aloud in pure disbelief, the very thought alone astounding. All of this- hers? Hers and hers alone? The ceilings were high, the halls wide and the very air of the place was like that of a forgotten tomb- somehow the thought of owning such a place was both humbling and terrifying. Were such grand gifts bestowed to all kept women? She shuddered again, winding her hands in her sleeves as she thought of what they had to do to earn them. There is not time for a reply however, as Ichi suddenly halts.

Her eyes scour the darkness until finally, she finds it- there is a door before her, a massive door as high as the ceiling, towering over her with such foreboding that she as well hurtles to a complete stop. There is light- there is light the color of flame pouring from beneath it, and a scent like brimstone permeates the air. She can taste something bitter in the air, like sulfur. And she stands completely still before it, frozen, listening to the sound of her shuddering breath leave her lungs. Ichi motions for her to enter with a bow, as Ni silently comes by her side to join her.

"Please enter My Lady, our Master awaits. We will see to the dinner arrangements."

She nodded dumbly, gulping loudly, pausing to suck in a deep, ragged breath. She could feel the beginnings of it, redoubling in intensity- her entire body trembled, shaking so violently that her teeth rattled. She found that she could not move a single step.

"My Lady?" Ichi asked her with concern, Ni immediately drawing nearer to her side as if to catch her should she fall- and it seemed as if she would, swaying on her trembling feet- it seemed as if the very world were spinning, as if she were about to buckle, and fall to the floor shaking like a women possessed.

"I-I-I-I...M-My a-apologies I...I c-cannot I-I-" Her teeth are chattering together so violently that she bites her tongue trying to speak, the sharp pain accompanied by the copper taste of her own blood in her mouth. The pain made it real, the pain took this moment from a delusional haze, some self induced nightmare- to a reality she did not want to face.

She is overcome with a fear she cannot begin to possibly explain- it transcends the strange unease that had lurked in the corners of her subconscious since she had opened her eyes. It was a spiraling ball of horror, rooted in her stomach and spreading like a virus through her body. She felt as if something was crushing her, as if some giant fist of hatred and loathing was squeezing the life out of her. As if should she take a single step towards that door she would burst into flames, be scorched alive, and swallowed by that horrific black beast they called death.

Alarmed, cold hands hold her upright, or else she would have fallen beneath her own weight, crippling like a flower in the storm. Ni disappeared before she could fathom it, Ichi pressing against her feverish forehead with a cold hand, whispering words into her ear.

"It will soon pass My Lady. It is your first time being in such a presence in a decade, your spirit is weak. Your chakra will realign itself in a moment if you can but bear it...It is not Master's intention to cause you harm, he controls it as much as he is able but the rest is beyond his means. And now that the moon has risen- You must not fear My Lady... it may seem beyond your strength- but you can bear it."

She tried to take comfort in the words, to allow them to give her the strength it would take to move her forward. She is still trembling violently in the girl's cold grasp, feeling sick to her stomach, as if she is a moment away from emptying the contents of it all over the floor. Fear- if she has never known it she knows it now- it is tight in her shuddering breast, it laces every tremble, echoes in the confines of her mind. It is-

'Weakness.' She hears again, but it is not the voice of the man again, filled with disgust. It is a voice like a scream in the dark, like the sound of something ripping asunder- there is arrogance- a prelude before pain. Dark and smug. 'Such weakness. But therein lies the charm.'

She holds her head, grasping it painfully, on the verge of screaming at the dark in her head, feeling her eyes begin to water. 'I-I'-I-' she fumbles, unable to think coherently, the blatant threat lurking in the words robbing her of thought and will. Vaguely she hears a strange rumble, as the doors part- and she is standing, shaking like an imbecile before it, bathed in the glow of fire.

"You must go My Lady." Ishi whispers carefully to her- and even cold hands tremble against her back. "You must not keep him waiting any longer."

She hears the words- she hears them- but she cannot move- does the girl not understand that she dare not move a step? It is as if she is struck blind, deaf- incapable of coherent thought- but the choice is made for her. Something- some strange power she knows not- grabs her, some burning black hand grabs her by the front of her kimono and she is pulled- dragged forward with such force that she stumbles, reeling between the doors. Distraught, confused, a scream on her lips- she turns to Ichi for some parting comfort, some solace, as she is snatched forward with a muffled cry.

Ichi is standing before the great doors as they close, and on her cold, impassive face is a look like pain.

It is a moment before she is able to gather her scattered wits, and mend the shattered remains of her psyche. She knows she cannot embarrass herself so before her lord- her benefactor- and yet she is so rattled, so shaken by an otherworldly, heart stopping fear that she practically stumbles to her knees, bowing humbly before him even though she knows how she must look. A shivering, shaking mess- some frail wisp of a girl- and the words that leave her are filled with a reminder of that weakness. 'Speak! You must speak!' Even though it feels as if she cannot breathe, even though it feels as if she is being swallowed whole, overwhelmed by some black tide. She is afraid, she is afraid, she is afraid- but the fear has no name, no voice. It is the sound of her, choking on her own breath- it is the sound of her, smothering her screams. He is in here- he is in here, this man- she can feel him. But she dared not look, dared not even so much as raise her eyes from the floor. She is before him, bent over- it is n o longer a bow it is a grovel, he body rigid with horror. 'To look is to die.' She thinks with absolute certainty, the thought cutting through the wall of distress that seemed to be enclosing her.

"G-G-Good E-E-Evening M-M-My L-L-Lord. I-It is- I-I-I h-have come a-as you r-requested I-I-"

She falters, nearly biting her tongue again, feeling her eyes squeeze shut. She cannot see him- but she can feel him! And it is like being smothered beneath the foot of some black beast made of nightmares and darkness, it is like choking, like drowning. She could not remember how to breathe- no- she dared not breathe, nor so much as speak out of turn. He laughs- but it is a sharp sound, like a bite- like the snap of jaws close to her ear so that she jumps, startled, feeling herself beginning to unwind before him. She feels it, as if she is sinking, descending into a state filled with nervous apprehension accompanied with the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

"Calm yourself little bird, the scent of your fear is overpowering. Have they not told you that you are to come to no harm in my presence?"

'His voice'- she nods dumbly in reply, so rapidly that her head hurts. 'Even his voice burns.' Words like liquid heat, being poured into her ears- he almost purrs them. Were the words supposed to be a comfort? She can find none in them- not when he speaks them as if the thought of her fear- and how it paralyzed her- gave him the utmost pleasure. The voice is smooth and dark- put it pierces the room as if it is a ragged blade, both everywhere and nowhere. There is an arrogance lurking beneath the words- it is the voice of a man aware of his own power. And what a power it must be- she thinks with another powerful tremor- to cripple her so!

"-I-I-I h-humbly a-a-ask y-your f-forgiveness, m-my L-Lord." She stumbles out, eyes still squeezed shut. But even the dark behind her eyelids gives her no solace, no measure of ease- his voice cuts through it as if it is nothing but mist and fog.

"Do not prostrate yourself before me." He suddenly snapped harshly, as if he had finally realized that she was doing just that, a groveling mess breaking on the floor before him. "I ask that only of my servants and lesser beings. You are neither. Raise your head so that I may look at you.'

'You are his woman.' The thought makes her raise her head quickly, eyes sill latched onto the floor as she trembled from head to foot. Within the confines of her sleeves her hands wrung themselves unmercifully, tangling the delicate length of them. She is nearly blinded by fear, her vision so hazy and murky from unshed tears that she cannot see, and it seemed to her the entire room was a pit filled with fire and shadows that seemed to be laughing at her. She dares not look at him- she cannot- she is barely strong enough for words- but not strong enough for that. What would her gaze find, at the other end of that voice like a nightmare? That thought alone makes this terror seem like nothing- she is certain that the form her eyes would find would be beyond human comprehension, beyond her ability to bear it. No- she is not strong enough for that, already bowing before the might of his words- but to meet his eyes?

She can feel his gaze, burning a trail up and down her form with such scrutiny that she feels naked. Her head begins to swim painfully- she is a step away from unconsciousness, from the void- but she dares not- she dares not faint in his presence. To do so she is certain would result in some horrific fate, some vile end. 'Strong...you must be strong-' But she feels so weak, so helpless, marked by a crippling and paralyzing terror that she cannot name. So she fights against her own weakness, the effort of her inner struggle to overcome making her face pale, her gaze unfocused.

"I can still hear your heart pounding." He states abruptly, as if only to see what she would say.

"Y-Yes! I-I am s-sorry!" She nearly gasps the words. And if she could have, she would have snatched the traitorous thing from her chest and dashed it to the ground, so frightened was she of gaining his disapproval or any of his contempt. Her admittance seems to please him somehow- the horrific pressure that seems to be crushing her alleviates somewhat, and she nearly collapses from relief. Her entire body feels as if it is crippled with exertion, so that she feels as if she is burning in her kimono, sweat on her brow.

"Ten years." He states aloud, distractedly, as if only to remind himself- "Ten years you have slept the sleep of the dead. And I suppose you remember nothing?"

In the wake of his presence, stifling her, it seemed as if in that moment she was incapable of remembering anything, struggling to comb through the undercurrent of her turbulent thoughts to focus on the reality. What did she know? She was Hinata- Ichi and Ni had called her Lady Hinata- that was her name. The man before her had confirmed it for her himself- a decade's worth of slumber- and...but she hurried to bury blue eyes before her heart betrayed her. That memory- that dream-had no place here. Not in this pit that felt like hell, groveling before a man with a voice like death.

"T-T-That i-is correct M-My L-Lord. I...I-I h-have f-forgotten all b-but my n-name."

"Then surely you are satisfied?" he murmured darkly- and she was certain that if she had seen his face in this moment- his smile would scorch her like a scar.

"This was what you wanted, what you begged of me- are you not pleased?" He asked her again, pointedly, and his gaze- she swallowed- she could feel it, burning her.

She nearly looked up at the words, that surreal dream resurfacing, between the realm of truth and subconscious-'"Then your wish has been granted-" but she snapped her head back down to the floor. How had it taken her so long to remember? It was only now that she finally realized the implication of those words- but how could she have known? How does one put faith in a dream? But the words of her Lord bring with them a truth that she has neither the strength nor the courage to face. And with them something heavy sinks in her chest- as if she has swallowed the world.

'I...I asked for this...? I wanted this? But...why? What...what did I want to forget?' No- she cannot think of it- she is already weak, collapsing beneath the weight of this man whose face she cannot know. To be crippled by that burden- but there is no time to ponder on the words, the oppressive silence of his wavering patience reminding her that she had more to answer to than simply herself. She is uncertain what to say to such a cruel, mocking question- surely he knew her condition better than she did herself. So how could she be pleased? How could she have wanted this? How could she have begged for this? But she answers honestly, far too frightened of him to resort to deceit...and somehow knowing that he would know if she did.

"I...I d-do n-not know M-My Lord..."

"Good." he interrupts her suddenly, so that she stumbles over the remainder of the words on her tongue, as if they have been snatched from her.

"All of that is behind you- the girl you once were has died in this moment. The past is no longer your concern. You need look no farther than me...and I suppose you know who I am little bird? You know who is master here?"

She is so stunned for a moment that she cannot speak- to say such things!- but there is no time to agonize over the words, no time to wonder just what he meant by those words.

"Y-Y-Yes m-m-my L-L-Lord." 'They called him the Lord Kyuubi no Kurama...' The very title carrying with it the murmur of a legend, the echo of a tale she was not sure she wanted to know. But again, somehow she realizes that he seems pleased with her ready admittance to his queries, as she can feel the mood lightening, allowing her to draw in a much needed breath. But it is only a moment, a brief prelude.

"Then know this. My word is absolute law within this realm. I am not to be disobeyed. In return for your obedience you will have everything that is within my power to bestow. You will never want for anything, you have only to ask and it will be given to you."

She is nearly struck dumb by this admission- so many questions lodged in her throat- what had she done to deserve such honor? What had she done to be worthy of such gifts? But none of them make it past her lips. 'Who am I to you?' She wants to beg, even though it makes no sense- she knows what she is to this man- she is his. Why does she want to ask, to hear it aloud? But she cannot do it- there is a faded horror running through her mind- a cold terror like pain. Are her eyes open? Are they closed? Is she blind? She cannot see- and she sees nothing but shadows, dancing across the floor.

"M-M-My Lord...i-is t-too kind..."

He laughs again at this- but this time it is a hollow, empty sound. She jumps again, startled by the sheer intensity of it, raw and unfounded. It is a sound that renews that feeling, doubles the strange waking terror that has entrapped her- her hands are white in her sleeves. It is a mocking sound- whether it is laughing at her naivety, her fear or both- she knows not. 'I don't want to know.' Acutely- she realizes that if her legs had the strength to support her in this moment- she would have willingly fled into the shadows, into a bottomless abyss- anything!- to get away from that horrific sound.

'Kind!' The dark in her ear mocks her, repeating the word with a cruel jest, as if it is laughable, pitiable. "The little bird thinks you are kind!' The echo of it is painful, so that she flinches, a hand shakily raised as if she wants to block it out, to keep it away. But like a foul cloud of malevolence, of evil and silence it hovers there, covering her in its shadow, skulking around her form like a vulture on a corpse. Only his words make it leave, driving the voice back into the darkness.

"Don't. Thinking I am kind is a mistake you can never allow yourself to make. There is a price for my...'kindness.'"

He says it mockingly, mirroring the dark in her ear, as if he wants to laugh again. She is uncertain what to say- there is nothing to say. She...does not know if he tells her this in confidence, in jest, or in earnest. He admits it like it is a lesson she must learn- like a necessity, an unspoken law. She knows it is those words in particular that will haunt her this night as she lays, caught in a restless slumber. 'There is always a price.' No longer mere words- a warning.

"There are but three rules you are to follow."

'Listen well. Do not forget. Your life...may depend on it.' Are those her thoughts, murmuring to her with a whisper like silence? Or is that another? She cannot focus on anything but the sound of him, echoing around her, beyond her ability to deny.

"You are to come when I summon you and not a moment before- do not attempt to seek me, I shall find you. While the sun is high in the sky you may travel anywhere within this realm so long as you are accompanied by your servants, and return by sunrise. And you must not, on any account, leave this realm."

'Don't go- You must not leave-' The anguish of a shadow that knows no name- she wants to scream at him, scream at herself- she wants to run into the dark- she wants to-

-But that voice grows darker still- grim- he is growling the words at her with a warning of pain so intense she would not be able to survive it. And she feels it return without warning, robbing her of breath and what little comfort she has gained in his presence- that black hand grabbing her by her neck. She gasps aloud at the feeling, surrendering to that strength with helpless abandon, rattled anew by that fear. It is holding her, shaking her, holding her tight as if he would crush her in a moment should she give anything but her consent. She cannot breathe, she cannot think- but his words find her in that bleak grasp, words filled with such conviction that she feels as if her heart is going to burst in her chest.

"Do you hear me little bird? If you ever attempt to leave I will snap you up in my jaws and grind your bones to dust. And anyone who assists you- I will have roasted alive. Do you understand me?" he grounds out with a snap of his fangs-everywhere and nowhere-but so close to her ear that she nearly faints, the words filled with such threat and promise that her vision grows black.

"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Yes!" She nearly screamed, so frightened now that she started to cry, growing more and more wretched by the moment. And if she had chosen this moment, this very moment to see through her tears- she would have seen those red pits burning in the darkness, red pits leading straight to hell.

"Then farewell my 'darling' Hanahime." There is a smirk in his voice, an arrogant smirk. "The servants will see to you."

And he- like a shadow, like a dark, vengeful spirit- had vanished by the time she next drew breath.

She sunk into the ground in pure relief as he took with him that black hand, that horrific pressure, that fear. 'Such a man!' She thought, her entire body shaking, trembling to the point that she was hyperventilating, drawing in ragged gasps for air. As if she had been smothered, swallowed by a darkness filled with hatred and spite, the feel of his contempt choking the very life in her body, robbing her of strength. 'Such a man!' She thought with horror, with a fear so overpowering that she could hardly stomach it, feeling everything within her reel away at the thought of being pinned once more beneath that gaze. A gaze that felt like hell fire, like brimstone- the flash of porcelain fangs- a promise to gobble her up and grind her bones to dust. Stated like it would almost be a pleasure, as if it would bring him nothing but pleasure, her blood on his tongue. She felt sick.

It was a long moment before she had finally gathered enough strength to rise, and is able to lift her weary eyes from the floor. She finds that this is another dark room with a high ceiling, and it is wide, grand- it no doubt served its purpose of being some manner of audience room. It is illuminated by the glow of candlelight, a few dark, ornate candelabras placed along the long black table in its center. And there are large fireplaces along it's walls lit with fire, laughing flames. So that the entire room is filled with shadows and dark forms, racing along its walls, howling from the ceiling. Along the walls are massive windows, high and peaked at the top, but the curtains drawn over them hide the world from her sight. And her gaze drifts down the length of the table- to the ornate throne at its end. It was a large dark chair, seated on an elevated platform, so that those callous eyes could stare at everyone in turn seated at the table. She cannot see it clearly- but in the candlelight the fire's shadows seem to dance malevolently around it, a mocking dance of power.

She shivered- it was as if his presence lingered there, like some foul black cloud in the room- and she could feel that was where he had lounged as he watched her grovel.

'Such a man!' She hurried to seat herself on the other end of the table, not even daring to sit in front of that throne, still cowering in her seat. She wiped the sweat from her brow with a silken sleeve, listening to her heart's rhythm slow as she regained her control of it. As she slowly regained some possession of herself, she found her entire body felt weak, spent, as if she had just climbed a mountain or overcome some taxing trial. If before she had any doubts that she was a woman in a strange land- this confirmed it. The women she vaguely remembered, white foxes- the strange title of her master- that ungodly power, of such unbridled might that it spoke of nothing but cruelty...no, she did not belong, she could not belong. 'Little bird.' That dark voice purred in her ear, 'My darling Hanahime.'

'Flower Princess...' she thought carefully, unsure how to even begin to process that agonizing meeting, and not even daring to begin. He had called her 'Little bird' as if he were mocking her fear, the way her heart, her body, fluttered and trembled before him. He could hear her heart pounding- he had heard it from across the room- and he could smell the scent of her fear. No surely- surely no human being was capable of such-then what did that make her, the woman who had slept for ten years? Even Ichi had confirmed it- a decade- and in all that time- had she not aged? Had she only slept? Why...? Why had he kept her alive? Why had he not tossed her to the side rather than bear the burden of watching over her as she slept? If he was so powerful, if she was so weak, if she had begged for this-"Such weakness." She remembered the dark in her ear. "But therein lies the charm."

Her head was beginning to ring sharply, painfully-"I am the one who loves you more than life itself, in this world or the next." the tender words, juxtaposed with that callous dismissal. "Farewell Hanahime." Smugly, mockingly- as if all her secrets were spread out before him, as if the truth were all within her reach. 'He knows.' She realized, but the realization filled her with nothing but dread. 'He knows who I am. He knows...me.'

Little bird, Hinata, Hanahime- all one in the same? All different parts of the same woman that was herself? And what...was she?

'I want to know...I need to know.' she thought earnestly, still trembling from the meeting with the man who felt like death. 'If I must bear this- if I must bear him-I need to know.' She does not hear the mantra this time- to let it go- but there is a sharp bark of laughter, ringing in her head. 'Can you bear it then, little bird? With the way your heart trembles? Can you bear it?' She sits there, stunned into silence at the words ringing in her mind again in that voice like darkness, but she does not have an answer.

AN: Another chap for the week, got quite a few followers and favorites but it would be nice to get a little feedback too, I like to know how I'm doing. Tormenting Hinata seems to bring me odd pleasure, so I expect it will become a habit. Hmm what's going on here I wonder? Our dear lord kyuubi seems to be quite the strange character. I look forward to reading your reviews and stuff...if any body even sends me any ;_; I'm not crying just...got something in my eye is all...