IMPORTANT Author's Note: Hello my dear Roses, it's nice to see you all again. Sorry Aiko and I haven't updated this story in a while; we've been busy. And as you may realize after reading the first two or so sentences, you are reading the same chapter of the gala. I went back and revised this entire story; the first chapter of this story has ALL the key terms you'll need to know for the story, the second has the re-written prologue, the third has Sakura's entrance to the academy and this is now the gala. This chapter is a bit different than the way it was written before, so don't skip it.
The chapters were a mess before I revised it, and I feel that it will now be easier to read and understand. However, if you don't go back and read the key terms or the other chapters before you continue this, you will be confused. There's new terminology being used in this story, a new prologue, and a lot of things were taken out simply because it was too confusing to comprehend. Sasori's reaction to Sakura is also altered a bit, as is Sakura's relationship to her step-mother.
So please, read those chapters before this one, and open a new tab/window so you can refer back to the Key Terms Page.
Thank you!
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Abilities
Aquakinesis: the ability to control and manipulate water
Death Sense: the ability to sense when death was approaching a person
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Chapter Two: Transient
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There were few beauties in the world like a sunset.
It was twilight—their time of day. The skies had dimmed into a deep tea rose-orange, watercolored with streaks of purple and magenta, and gray and black clouds rolling about the firmament. The late-summer breeze lifted the pink curls from her shoulders, made her skin rise pleasantly, and she smiled.
The chatter of a thousand voices created an odd symphony of hums and prattles, making her head pound aggressively. Everyone wore their most elegant evening gowns for this gala, tied and curled their hair with glittering ornaments catching the bouncing light; and she still felt uneasy amongst the sea of unknown faces.
Sakura wore a Lolita dress tonight. It was burgundy like the wine that stained her stepmother's lips, with white ruffles peeking from beneath the scalloped skirt. Like the others, her hair bore curls that bounced and swayed every time she stepped, with a glittering ornament of claret and fuchsia lotus petals and black feathers adorning it. And her mask bore nothing more than a white lace overlay similar to her heels.
As beautiful as she felt, she still found the uncertainty ebbing about her conscience.
The doors opened then, and she followed the course of the crowd with timid steps and hands close to her chest. The interior of the hall was grandeur with marvelous decorations of lavenders and pearls. Stone pillars reached the two-storied ceiling with mauve fabrics streaming across the chandeliers. The windows were large, arched, draped in tulle tapestry to allow the slightest bit of light. And the pearly floors were peppered in tables cloaked in white satin and organza ribbons, their candles flickering with the gentle breeze.
She brought her lip between her teeth nervously, eyes uncertainly roaming the tables for an empty space. She saw Sasuke off in the distance, at a table with a red haired girl hanging off his arm, and the urge to harrumph and hiss nearly forced her forward maliciously. She wanted to be there, to smile with him and his acquaintances, but found all traces of confidence lost after one mere step.
She didn't want to embarrass him.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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Itachi Uchiha was a beautiful man. He was gorgeous, with such soft features that the desire to touch him overwhelmed her each and every time they met. He had the nose of a Greek, perfect, straight; and his jaw was chiseled to flawlessness. And he had the most beautiful stare she'd ever lay her gaze upon, as his eyes bore the opulence of the richest rose, and his lashes were akin to angelic wings stretching far beyond their heart.
He always wore the finest outfits, all tailored and neat—a contrast to his more casual imouto, she knew. And he always kept his hair tied back to reveal the curvature of his milky neck, almost as if teasing those cursed by delirious hunger.
He was a powerful young man who hailed from the fiery clan of the Uchiha. He fed off of emotions
She'd known him since birth; he use to watch her and Sasuke when his father hosted a gala, and played with her when she so demanded. He use to tell her stories of the outside world, of flowers she'd never seen and music she'd never heard, and he had been such a kind soul to have brought her books to read. So she supposed she owed her intellect to him.
He bowed to her, his lips pressing against her knuckles pleasantly, and politely asked of her health before he gently took her hand in his. He requested her apparently, as did his band of giants, and refusal would be much too rude on her part so she obediently followed him up the staircase.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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Having such beautiful men casting their gazes upon her made her heart drum heavily within her breast, and a watercolored vertigo veiled her eyes. They were all so beautiful that they could rival any Incubus or Dreamscape Vampire, and their eyes were all so iridescent, so deep that she felt lost with each glance.
The vampire at the head of the table bore the hair of a wild phoenix, and skin softer than any pearl she ever wore. He wore piercings about his lips and his nose and his ears, but she rather liked the way they accentuated his gorgeousness. But she couldn't see anything above his nose at all, not even the color of his eyes because of the visor he wore. Instead of a mask like hers or Itachi's, he wore a white knight's visor with little more than two slits for his eyes—an intimidating appearance, for sure.
She knew him as Pein, one of the most powerful Purebloods the world had ever seen. He was a rare sort of vampire as he survived off the souls of others, rather than stained his lips with blood—but he could if he so wished. The knight's visor protected all from his hypnotic eyes as they promised absolute death and insanity. With those eyes, he could see the Grim Reaper and the Shinigami trailing within the shadows, and it was rumored he could even speak to them.
Some called him a God.
He kissed her temples in greeting then said something to her, something in a tongue she didn't quite understand, and she looked at Itachi with an expression so hopeless, that his cheeks burned with embarrassment. He translated to her, "He wishes to welcome you and is thankful for your beauty to have blessed us all."
And he introduced them, the Akatsuki, to her. There were ten of them, three of which had gone unaccounted for, and she first assumed them to be Purebloods because of their masks. Hidan and Kakuzu hailed from the aristocratic Tachibana, with powers of supposed immortality. Both were Hybrids of Psi and Emphatic Vampires, but fed purely on the turbulent emotions of others. Further down the table rested Hoshigaki Kisame, the infamous Monster of the Hidden Mist. He was one of the strongest Demon-Psi Vampires to ever utilize Aquakinesis, and the youngest of the Seven Swordsmen.
Tobi shared many of Itachi's strengths, but was seen as much more adventurous and childish, if she dared say. He could manipulate reality in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom, and could control even the most untamable flames of Amaterasu—even more so than his elder cousin. The last at the table was a man different from the rest. He was named Zetsu and was the only Human-Vampire Hybrid of the Akatsuki. He was turned by a Sanguine some time ago, and as such had difficulty controlling his bloodlust at times. But he seemed to clutch his sanity tightly between his fingers as he never once lost control of himself.
Just being around them, these powerful giants, made her feel uncomfortable and edgy, and they all seemed to pick up on it.
"You'll have to excuse the others," Itachi told her, pulling a chair for her to rest in, directly across from Pein, and he offered her a rare smile to ease her turbulent emotions. "They have last minute security duties and should arrive within the hour; unless you prefer to me to fetch for them, Lady Sakura."
"No leave them be, Itachi."
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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Her responses to their inquiries were guarded, carefully dancing around her direct opinions and reactions. She never revealed much about her personal life and at first Itachi assumed it was because she really had no personal life. He'd known her for years, and he knew that she'd never ventured past her mansion's walls; it was he who even introduced her to literature, and gave her, her first flower. Before him, the cherry blossom was merely her name.
She avoided politics as well, almost as if it were the plague—though he didn't blame her if she didn't quite understand the affairs of the state as sometimes, even he would flinch away from his clan meetings.
But after seeing the way those pools of jade darkened as she spoke, he knew that wasn't quite the case.
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Cruse of the Crimson Flower
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There were colors dancing about her vision.
There were colors dancing about her vision. Colors! Certainly that wasn't a normal occurrence, was it? There were blues and purples, even a few greens—all different shades and pulsating about the room.
It terrified her.
Her head began to hurt, her temples especially, and a watercolored veil of vertigo made her blink abruptly in surprise. She could see her vision blurring slightly, obscuring, and contorting into odd blurs of colors that made her eyes hurt. And the oddest taste suddenly dusted atop her tongue.
What's happening to me?
A hand gently fell atop her own, and she resisted the urge to flinch away from Itachi's concerned stare. "Lady Sakura, are you alright?"
When she blinked, the dancing array of colors had disappeared, as if it never even existed. Thoroughly crestfallen and bewildered, she gave a soft smile of reassurance; though she knew he wouldn't accept her lame attempt of promise. "I'm fine, thank you."
He parted his lips to state his disagreement, but found his words forced away by a much smoother voice belonging to a much more angelic man with hair like a withering rose and eyes like a hawk's tail.
"Pardon our delay; we've had much to tend to."
She then notice the two others accompanying Sasori: Deidara and a beautiful unknown woman. She was tall, curvy like the hourglass Pein held between his fingers; tendrils of bluish-purple locks spilled from atop her updo, a sparking rose pinned between, and her eyes were the most brilliant shade of ocher. She had the nose of a Duchess, plump lips with a pearl beneath, and skin like that of Tsukiyomi. She seemed to glow when the light touched, almost like a divine creature, and her blue gown flowed elegantly as she stepped.
She was stunning.
Pein raised his hand to physically dismiss their apologies, the faintest twitch affecting his lips as the woman gave a curt bow. "Lady Sakura, a pleasure to meet you," the woman hummed, her eyes indifferently roaming over the skirts of the pinkette's form. "I am Konan."
Sakura forced herself to smile at the woman's blatant display of arrogance; she didn't like the way Konan disregarded her, or how she thought her so lowly. The sharp fangs of covetousness sunk deeply into her flesh with Konan's arrival, and the primal desire to wrap her fingers around her heart seemed every bit decadent as it sounded.
Regardless, she would need to avoid her.
A movement beside her caught her attention and she had initially thought of moving away from Sasori, but the glow within his eyes promised warmth and affection—deliciously so! And he had taken her hand between his warm fingers, offered her the kindest of smiles, and brushed his lips against her knuckles.
She'd been kissed as such many times before, but never did she blush as she did now.
When Sasori brought his lips away from the dainty hand he held, he revealed a fog-lidded container to her. He opened it, revealed the elegant corsage inside with the softest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. There were white-and-pink roses and baby's breath about the facet, and a skeleton key hidden amongst the bundles of pink and white; and tulle and diamonds and pearls as well—a spray perfect for a woman of her stature, she presumed.
"Do you like it," Sasori asked her as he fastened the corsage about her wrist. "I made it."
She thanked him, her smile wide and genuine for once, and she was more than eager to show it to Pein upon his polite request.
Though, with all her pink-cheeked excitement, she never noticed the vehement glare passing through her, or the wisps of dark intent whirling about the room.
Roses are Sasori's signature.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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Dinner did more than enough to appease her appetite. The meals were portioned perfectly, decorated with herbs and spices that caught her tongue, and the meat—delicious.
A syncopated hum of violins and cello made her feel more at ease, and the moan of the piano sent pure shivers down her spine with its emotional toll. The regality, the simplicity; it made her feel well at home. Although, she did feel bad about Itachi having to translate everything for her.
Deidara had escorted her to the candy bar at the other side of the room, and he helped her gather as much chocolate and lavender cake-pops as they could possibly carry—all just to mollify her terrible sweet tooth.
It was Itachi who had introduced her to candy and sweets, for he always seemed to hide them beneath his coat when he would visit.
They had just returned to their table when they were visited by the Headmistress and Headmaster, a handsome pair of Purebloods whose skin didn't dare reveal their ages and whose smiles shone brighter than any candle atop the chandelier. They were something akin to parents, if she dared say, as they always visited her in her lonely castle, and they would teach her of magic and swordfights and many other arts of her kind.
It was because of Tsunade that she was there in the first place. Her father originally refused to let her enroll, saying something about fearing her safety—but she and Jiraya had convinced him otherwise with their cunning smiles and seductive charm. But Sakura felt one of Tsunade's many potions had a bit to do with it, as well.
She bowed to them despite their obvious desire for a bone-crushing hug, and she nearly fainted out of horror when Tsunade ignored her need for space. The woman was more than a role model to her; she had taught Sakura to be proud and confident in herself, and the realization of her waning confidence made guilt settle about her mindset.
"You are beautiful," Tsunade complimented, her fingers gently caressing Sakura's blushing face.
"It's been years and your beauty still rivals our gardens," Jiraya chuckled, warily glancing at the others at the table. "Has she caused any trouble yet, Itachi?"
The ravenette gave a sweeping bow to the pair before him, the amusement behind his smile obvious to all, and he said, "No sir, no trouble yet; though I suppose the night it still young."
Jiraya gave a low hum of approval as the men at the table gave their low snickers, and asked who had been her escort for the night. He expected Itachi, really, but after seeing the splay of roses adorning her arm, he assumed it to be the blood-haired Sanguine—not the impish blonde. He had raised his hand so quickly, that Jiraya nearly spoke his darkened amusement. "Surely you'll excuse us then, Deidara," he said. "We need to speak to Lady Sakura for a moment."
Deidara's expression seemed none too pleased at the way Jiraya disregarded him, but he didn't say anything as the trio walked off.
Tsunade and Jiraya had taken her out to the balcony and closed the doors behind them. By the time Sakura turned to address Tsunade, the blonde had pulled a vial from her dress and waved it before her.
Entranced by the vial—as she had an odd obsession with glasses—she found her words silenced within her throat. Tsunade chuckled at her sudden silence, and she carefully tucked the vial between Sakura's fingers.
"This is for you, dear."
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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He hated being late.
He absolutely despised tardiness in any individual and never allowed such impertinence to ease by, with himself included.
So what compelled him to spend his extra hours locked within the confines of his chambers? He blamed his tedium and his maddening desire for perfection. If he'd been in the right sort of mind, he had no doubt he would've attended the gala on time rather than spend time at his desk assembling a pointless splay of flowers.
He thought back to the way her eyes lit up when she saw it, and how she seemed to glow with her elation—something he'd never seen in such a reserved young lady before. It amused him immensely, really, and he couldn't deny that he sort of enjoyed the appraisal he'd received from the girl.
Although, that didn't really conciliate his suspicions.
He didn't understand the odd warmth that spread across his flesh when he touched her or the sudden surge of electricity that surged throughout his veins when he brushed his lips against her skin.
And he certainly didn't understand the sudden bout of bloodlust that came over him when he met those quintessential pools of jade.
Had he been any other person, Sasori was sure he would've flinched or maybe even sunk his fangs deep into her flesh. She had done something to him—he just knew it. Whatever it was, it gave him all the more reason to keep her under his watchful eyes.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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When she left the draftiness of the balcony and eased between the twirling skirts of pink and yellow, Sakura found herself standing before an empty table. The table had been left with nothing more than the remainders of their previous meals, and the cold realization of abandonment made her eyes lower.
"Lady Sakura?"
Stunned, she turned towards the railings of the gallery where the speaker stood. It was Deidara, she realized, holding haphazardly holding a glass of vermillion between his fingers. Smiling shyly, she set a hand against his arm.
"I thought you left me."
The astonishment that overtook his indifference made her giggle, and when he began to sputter she felt the urge to toss aside her manners and laugh like a child.
"You've known English this whole time," he accused, his brows furrowing with his frustration. She laughed again, this time much more freely—he swore it was the titter of an angel. She denied the accusation, her cheeks rosy from her spell of hilarity, and told him of the potion Tsunade had gifted to her.
It would let her speak English now, so she wouldn't have to burden others with her lack of comprehension anymore. If there was anything she hated, it would be to be a burden.
She stood beside him and watched the pairs dancing about the floor, her eyes dimming with her jealousy—or was it want? She brushed aside the foreign feelings with little more than a slight huff of breath, and closed her eyes. "So where are the others? Had I scared them off already?"
Deidara smiled at her, "of course not. We Akatsuki don't usually attend these events for pleasure, Lady Sakura, but for business, hmm. We have to protect you all—it's our duty."
"I don't need protection," Sakura told him, her fingers involuntarily curling into the wood of the banister. She left tiny scratches about its polished surface, and quickly pulled her hands away and blushed upon realization.
Ignoring the way she reacted, Deidara chuckled, "If you say so." Then he turned to face her; he bowed lowly, his hand held out for her to take, and he purred, "may I have this dance?"
She accepted without a second of hesitation, and smiled warmly as he led her down the staircase. They waltzed near the center of the floor, their hands intertwined and their bodies close; and she let him lead her beyond the walls and into her imagination where castles and princes dwelled.
But as Deidara twirled her within his hands, his eyes fell over a window to the north and he smirked. I know you see me, Sasori, hmm. Don't think you're the only one longing for her attention.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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He had charmed her, quite simply. Deidara made her laugh as they danced from one melody to the next, and he told her the most interesting of stories. He told her of his times in Iwa, where he'd make beautiful creations of art, and he told her of laughter shared with the other Akatsuki, reducing her into a grinning mess of a woman.
The teasing smirk, the impish gleam in those aquamarine depths he dared call eyes, the deep tenor of his voice—she had been enticed by it all. And Sakura dared admit that she was almost sad when Itachi requested a dance.
But she still smiled, and she still giggled as he mentioned their days of childish banter and their struggles of escaping her mother's garden. And he even teased her of her fears of wolves after a story his cousin had told her.
Her last dance of the night belonged to the formidable man of Rain. He led her so gently, his hands never roaming further than their original spot, and he spoke quietly, even smiling when she mocked his comrades for their lack of precision in their previous dances. He induced fear—oh, he certainly did—but he promised nothing but absolute civility and care.
She felt absolutely safe, now.
And when the light dimmed and the curfew announced, Deidara returned with a smile and an outstretched hand. She bid Pein a soft "goodnight", and she even pressed her lips against his cheek before she left with Deidara.
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Curse of the Crimson Flower
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Deidara shyly tugged at the armband he wore, his eyes downcast in a sudden display of timidity; Sakura merely smiled and set her hand against the crystal doorknob of her dorm. There were others walking past, tossing glances of curiosity and envy towards the pair as they said their goodnight, and it sort of embarrassed her.
"Thank you for escorting me, Deidara," she thanked, her fingers tugging at the bag of sweets she'd brought.
The blonde nodded, "It was my pleasure." Hesitantly, he ghosted his hands up her arms until his fingers could gently brush her pink cheeks. He lowered his head, slowly as not to worry her, and he set his lips upon her softer ones.
Her body tensed at the hesitant brush of his lips, and an odd sensation of discomfort settled among her bones; but she didn't push him away from her. When he pulled away, he murmured a quiet "goodnight" and disappeared down the hallway.
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