The glow of candles expanded and contracted to the chakra in the air.
It illuminated few things in the room: the cabinets, the waxed desk, the pile of scrolls, a jar of ink. Beyond, the contours of a bed and the silhouette of servants, who fell to their knees when the door clicked open. The candles brightened tremendously, revealing rows of frightened faces.
After a glance to assure everything was in order, the host dismissed the servants. They filed away, leaving the host and his two guests.
"As requested, the most luxurious suite modified to your command. Traditional style, western finishes. "
The host, a sharply-featured man in his thirties, turned to the masked shinobi and the companion in the his arms, anticipating their reactions. To his disappointment, neither showed any delight in the expensive décor, the meticulously-wiped wooden floors, nor the light scent of fresh air. A suite like this was reserved for royalty, and to the people above, groveling in their filth, a room worth dying for.
The shinobi vanished, only to reappear by the bed – the finest silk in the entire country, the host would insist – and laid his companion down.
The host eyed them closely. The shinobi held a frighteningly strong chakra, and from his uniform, likely in the high elites. If so, he could just be used to this kind of luxury. Lucky bastard, the host bitterly thought. His companion, on the other hand, seemed to be no one special. But she held no awe either, refusing to even look up at the beauty around her, long hair hiding her face away from view.
"Anything to your dissatisfaction?" the host asked, unable to stand the silence anymore. When the wife of the daimyo had visited this room, she had nearly gone mad, rubbing the silk covers against her face and moaning about how much she missed fabrics like it. But these two… nothing.
"Anything?" the shinobi repeated the question to his companion.
The voice of a young man, the host noted. No older than early twenties. This information might be useful later when it comes to entert—
"No."
The whisper was nearly inaudible, but the host caught it. His eyes landed back on the woman again. No, not a woman. Another man, and shocked, the host forgot his next words.
The long hair had swept aside with the tilt of his head, revealing the most beautiful face the host had ever came upon, with grey eyes framed by long lashes, delicately arched chin and jaw, and gently curved lips. His skin was blemished with healed lacerations, but they didn't detract from his original beauty, merely softened it..
With a beauty like that, no wonder no one gave a damn about the room.
The shinobi pretended to not notice the host's unabashed stare, or how he seemed to have a sudden perspiration problem, worsening the already distasteful stench in this room. The perfume sprayed here was indistinguishable from cat urine. Of course, he could hide his displeasure.
"I have a few questions."
"W-what?" The host spoke to the shinobi, but he his eyes kept flickering back to the bed, his tongue cramped in the back of his throat.
"How does the ventilation work here?"
The host broke out of his trace. "Oh. At the juncture of the wall and ceiling are vents, where purified air is sent in."
"From the outside?"
"No, not that filth. Fresh mountain air, fifty kilometers north from here, which then undergoes several filters and blown here by powerful machines."
"Can anything get… in?"
So the shinobi was paranoid like the rest. Cakewalk then, the host snickered in his mind, having seen too many of these kind of soldiers.
"Impossible," he answered. "Not even the smallest Aburame bug can fit in, and if there is any kind of poisonous gas, it would be immediately detected by the filters. Your safety and privacy are guaranteed."
"What are the curtains for," the shinobi asked, just to get the little mouse excited.
"Take a look for yourself!" the host exclaimed, glad his guests were finally taking interest in the room.
The mouse wishes to boast this place and has deluded himself into thinking it belongs to him. How pitiful.
Nevertheless, he played this charade, knowing someone else was listening to their exchange. He pulled the curtains aside, and moonlight flooded into the room. Behind the large window was a blissful night sky, a galaxy of stars twinkling above whispering trees.
"Grand, is it not?" the host asked, his question directed towards the beauty on the bed. Unfortunately, he received no comment, not even a glance up.
With his back turned and attention fixated, the host failed to notice a mist shrouding the moon. How the trees outside were crumbling to kindle. Only until there was the cry of a war hawk did he jerk up. The shinobi was still standing before the window and the horror that lied beyond it.
The large predatory bird flew past the now barren landscape, fire crackling maliciously over the millions of bodies, mutated and mangled.
Wide eyed and weak-kneed, the host nearly shrieking when fingerless hands began to pound on the window pane. Gruesome figures, rotten and toothless, attacked the glass to get in.
"Yes, quite grand," the shinobi answered, the red faded from his eyes. The genjutsu disappeared, the window replaced by a solid stone wall.
He paced back towards the bed. "I believe we have seen enough." Your existence is an eyesore. "You may leave now." Go before I crush you to pieces.
At this, the host broke out of his shock, jumped to his toes, and rubbed his hands. Greed was evident in his eyes, and now was the perfect opportunity to discuss prices. "Of course, so I assume you will take the suite! How long will—"
"Five months."
The host choked. F-five MONTHS? "I'm sorry sir, I might have misheard—"
"You did not."
"But that's over thirty m-mill—"
"Then take sixty." Without further word, he presented a parchment paper. On it were two seals. One from the State Bank and the other…
The dictator's seal? This is… this is…
"A blank check," the shinobi said. The last of his patience was becoming thread thin, and if the mouse did not go back to its hovel of a hole, there would be his blood in their new room.
"Oh! Oh, oh my. This is my- our greatest honor to be…"
The candle fire flared, towering taller and brighter than before, but the host did not notice the warning. The shinobi felt his hand twitch, then disappeared, interrupting the host's babble. Suddenly, there was a breeze, and the host spun around to see the door courteously opened for him.
"T-thank you! Please, please, enjoy your stay and…" His eyes landed on the person the bed again, on his lips, his neck, his shoulders… "It's a pleasure."
There was a dangerous discharge of lightning that crawled up the frame of the door.
"The pleasure is ours."
A second later, the host found himself in the underground hallways, the electricity-charged door shut a hair away from his crooked nose.
.
The porcelain mask was laid on the table in a click. Candlelight contoured the edges of his pale face, the fire eating hungrily at his chakra, wide and rabid. He stared back at the flames.
"Without the little mouse, this place is quite… quaint, would you not agree?"
Sasuke paced across the room, his peripheral vision capturing every detail of the room. Not even an insect or string of chakra could hide its presence for long under his scrutiny.
He stopped before the bed. His fingers down the white silk of the bed sheets, creating a thin, luscious sound.
"Smooth, isn't it?"
Itachi looked in his direction but said nothing.
"And the air. There are no chakra suppressors in this room. Your breaths won't be strained," Sasuke continued, his fingers leaving the sheets and landing on brother's jaw, gliding along the contours of soft skin. The silk dulled in comparison, becoming dry and prickly.
"Currently, you feel no pain." That was true as well. Not since Itachi was a child had he been in such a blank state, a state so unfamiliar that it was terrifying. Every failed breath, every aching bone, it was all to remind him he should not be alive. Life was an associate of pain; death was not.
Closing his eyes, Itachi let the fingers trail down his face. He had not had physical contact in years, none that were not attacks on his life. But even after so long, he had not forgotten the distinctive touch of his little brother. The same touch now. Curious, tender, even lov-
Itachi wished he could delude himself forever. His eyes opened, unfocused yet penetrating. "Why are you doing this."
Sasuke stopped for a moment, unable to comprehend the question, his fingers suspended.
Why?
Was there ever a need for a why?
"Hm, why not?" If his brother wanted an answer, he would gladly comply. Anything to keep him satisfied. He had orders, after all. His fingers brushed away, but he never lost the honey in his voice. "You used to be one Danzou's most valued soldiers. This is simply his reward to you."
Itachi waited for the truth.
"Why else would he pull you out from interrogation?"
No response.
"It must have been due to a mistake."
Itachi still waited.
Sasuke chuckled. "You don't believe me."
Only a fool would, they simultaneously thought, both knowing this display was over before it began. Sasuke had no intention of selling this transparent lie, and Itachi had no intention of buying it.
"Danzou would love nothing more than to have me dead. What is the true reason I am kept alive."
The degree of boldness behind each question was increasing. Sasuke found his lips curving upwards, wondering why that was the case. Could it be his physical health was returning? That he was slowly forgetting his proper place?
Or perhaps, after a few days with him, he was getting webbed in by tiny threads of trust. Unlike the brutal weeks in interrogation, their time together had been peaceful. Sasuke had not tortured him, had not given him anything but sugar-coated words and courtesy. Even doused his pain away with drugs.
Whatever it was, his brother showed no fear of him. Modicums of skepticism, maybe, but past that, he had been docile.
Waiting. Just waiting.
"Let's just say Danzou is persistent," Sasuke said. "It is not every day we capture an Akatsuki, and he will do whatever it takes to get the information he needs."
Itachi was neither surprised nor deceived. There was something else left unsaid. But it became clear with the treading silence that if he ever were told, it would not be now.
He averted his gaze.
"He wishes to bribe me then?" he asked softly. "By presenting me with this room, with this body, with you." He paused, letting the sudden tightness in his chest loosen. "It must have been days now. Is it safe to assume you are my new interrogator?"
More boldness. Sasuke grinned, amused. "If you want to put it that way, yes," he said. "For the next five months, I am the sole person in charge of you. Who I am will vary on your cooperation. Just like this room can be either paradise or hell, I can be your guard or jailer."
"And after five months?"
"I guarantee you nothing."
Itachi closed his eyes. "Is that so..."
In the following silence, Sasuke gave his prisoner the time to weigh his options. He glided his hand over the cabinets. Each unlocked accordingly, and he was pleased to find everything supplied, from calligraphy brushes to packets of tea leaves.
With one fleeting glance, he absorbed every detail, memorized the suit behind each card. Food and medicine. Books and parchment. Spare military weapons. Only the last cabinet revealed something of interest, as an assortment of glass bottles aligned to give a cheeky, multicolored smile.
"Do choose wisely," he said, tracing the patterns on each glass bottle. "The Foundation is based on a punishment-reward system. Betray us and die, accept us and live." He stopped at one particular vial. "Or, in your case, keep your silence and suffer, talk and live in luxury."
He deprived the shelf one of its many colorful teeth, uncapped the vial, and swirled the contexts, inhaling the rich aroma of the therapeutic oil. He grinned. "And it'd be a waste to not enjoy yourself while you can."
That said, Sasuke did not expect his brother to be tempted by these simple indulgences, but he did relish the idea of torturing him with the possibility of having them at all. That somewhere within this pit of hell Itachi had fallen into, there was a safe haven at the end.
He returned the vial to its shelf and sampled the next tonic, keeping himself busy. "After all, there is no escape from here. We are kilometers underground, and the tunnel system is so intricate, time-space is the only way to resurface."
The oil was strong, masking the impure stench of the room, much to his pleasure. Earthy and refreshingly crisp, very reminiscent of a snake. He stowed the vial away, and along with it, the pleasant memory of his mission in Otogakure.
"And I'm afraid the chakra net only allows authorized individuals to warp out," he continued, dallying with a small black jar next.
After giving the hellebore its moment of appreciation, he tucked it away as well. Deciding that he gave enough time, he found what he wanted and made his way back to the bed.
"So why make your life any more difficult?" he lulled. "What happens on the surface won't affect you now. You are in a separate world, a limbo where anything you want can be delivered to you on a golden platter. All for a few. Simple. Words." His breath grazed past his brother's ear, because even if Itachi cannot see their close proximity, it would be heard, it would be felt, and it gave no further opportunity for delays. No more time, no more distance. Sasuke wanted his answer now.
There was stillness, a calm before the storm, followed by a subtle shift in weight, as Itachi averted away. In a strained voice, he whispered, "Danzou cannot give me anything I want."
"Nothing?" Sasuke persisted, leaning in, adroitly positioning himself in a way that prevented the other from shying away. "You can no longer see, but you can still hear beautiful music. You can no longer eat, but you can still feel the comfort of a warm bath. Rather than rotting away in the dungeons, I am offering you sybaritic lavishness."
Itachi greeted these offers with a cold shoulder. While his body shook in terror at the thought of returning to the torture chambers, he had also been trained to be deaf his body. Even so, his resolve had already been weakened, and he knew the longer he was in this condition, the more he grew accustomed to this foreign bliss, the more difficult it would be to let it go… to let Sasuke go.
That was when Itachi realized the cause of break in his willpower. He couldn't let go, not when what he had been given a taste of what he had been starving for.
It was disturbing how quickly Itachi came into acceptance of his brother. A refined monster, brilliantly calculating and analytical, cruel and heartless. After a decade of negligence and hate, betrayal and violence, Sasuke was molded into exactly what was expected of him, and after his own decade of pain and defeat, illness and longing, Itachi embraced that very monster.
To him, his brother was alive, healthy, and safe. That was all that mattered to him in the end. All he saw was Sasuke, and he was willing to be blind to his murders, his crimes, his cruelty, his sins, because the very nature of Sasuke was a result Itachi's own sin, own mistake. He was staring into an abyss, and the abyss was staring back, anxiously waiting for the slip and fall, when desire became the center of gravity, and sense and reason crumbled away.
Danzou played his cards well. Too well. A few days was all it took to set this dangerous trap, and Itachi needed to escape before it was too late. If it was not already too late.
"There has to be something," Sasuke purred, slithering closer until their bodies pressed together, his arm locking the last remaining opening. "The flesh of a woman?"
Itachi clasped the sheets, his lips locked tight. He needed to get out.
With his free hand, Sasuke forced his brother to face him, but Itachi dropped his gaze, refusing to acknowledge him.
"A man?" He leaned closer, his tongue dancing against his own lips in anticipation.
Hands clutched harder to the fabric, and Itachi felt his heart betraying him, gaining momentum, his control faltering again.
"What is it you want?" Sasuke whispered, letting his breath trail up his prey's neck. He tilted his head and stopped a hair away, his eyes gleaming. "Could it be…"
Itachi's erratic heartbeat resonated lovingly.
"Me."
.
When he crushed their lips together, the last thing Sasuke expected was resistance. He had predicted the horror in Itachi's eyes, the stiffness of a body that had grown numb, the temporarily stop in time that allowed him to take advantage and advance deeper without protest.
He had enough of waiting. He had wanted to do this the moment he captured his prey, but the State and their lousy interrogation division got in the way, then the pathetic medical squad, and even he restrained himself for days.
Everything so far had been nothing but a game. He originally planned to do everything by force. But then, he noticed how his mere presence could flicker on the light in his brother's eyes, could capture his breath and leave him hanging on a thread, could make him bend so easily to his will, all without the installation of fear and terror. It was a different kind of power, a dangerous one that he only experimented with once and had been craving to have it again.
This was not about the State. This had nothing to do with Danzou, nothing to do with the war. This was about the contract that he signed in his own blood years ago, in which he was guaranteed anything he wanted in exchange for his service. He did not lie about the punishment-reward system, and as of now, he was receiving his reward, a pretty, pretty doll that was going to fill in the vacant spot created years ago by a beast even more vicious and untamed than him.
Sasuke rampaged into his brother's mouth, going deeper, in search for something delicious.
There was a burst of metallic flavor, as Itachi finally reacted and bit down on his tongue, and Sasuke tore at Itachi's lips in return. Their blood mixed together to create an exotic wine, but Sasuke had barely gotten his fill when his aghast brother managed to regain control of himself.
In one motion, the bed sheets were pulled from under both of them, displacing Sasuke long enough for his prey to escape his clutches. Itachi was gone the second the silk billowed down.
No, he had not expected resistance, but it came as a pleasant surprise, not having met anyone who could for a long, long time. Not since his last trophy.
"I would not exert myself, if I were you." Sasuke said, tracing the tip of his finger against his lips and licking the blood. "The drugs I gave you are composed of chakra that binds to your nerves. The more energy you waste, the faster that chakra becomes depleted, and…" He turned around to face the door, watching his brother collapse to his knees, shaking uncontrollably. "The quicker the pain returns."
Itachi ignored him, kept trying to break through the barrier to the outside, his hand weakly pressing against a door that viciously discharged lightning back.
"Did I not say earlier that there is no escape?" Sasuke taunted, enjoying his brother's futile attempt to escape, escape this room, escape Sasuke's desires, escape hell, but the door would remain bolted shut, and the electricity would continue to bite at Itachi's skin.
Itachi kneeled in front of the door, letting shocks rampage through him as he tried to draw the last of his chakra, in hopes he would be free, in hopes he would granted one last undeserving mercy.
But his god refused to listen to his plea and walked away, while the devil walked forward.
"I suggest you stop resisting." Sasuke chuckled, feeling his brother freeze under his touch, the reaction now opposite from before, when contact was allowed, was almost welcomed.
Not anymore.
Itachi's hand slid down the door, the charges of electricity aggressively attacking as it did, then finally went limp.
"Don't touch me."
The words echoed hollowly, low and dangerous, but Sasuke did not take warnings, much less commands. Without hesitation, he roughly yanked his brother away. The force was enough to send Itachi colliding with the floors, and Sasuke passively watched skin scrape and bruises form.
Itachi used the opportunity to flicker away, on his feet once more a meter away.
Briefly, Sasuke wondered how long he could keep up the useless act. To anyone else, his brother appeared poised, but to him, it was easy to catch the shallow breaths, the slight tremble, the erratic heartbeat of trapped prey. There would not be a fight.
He approached slowly. Itachi backed away, one steady step after another until there was a small falter in his movements.
"What are you going to do."
Itachi felt the wall behind him and stopped, leaning back and clutching his abdomen. His legs gave out, and he slid down. The pain was back.
"What can you do." Sasuke stopped in front of him, head tilted, staring at the lovely trail of blood from those abused lips, the shoulder peeking out from where the yukata fell, the numb feet that became too weak stand up.
Itachi finally looked up, feeling his brother's dominating chakra leak out, hostile and sinister, yet so well controlled.
But even in this state, Itachi knew there was still something he could do, his eyes already stinging in anticipation. There was no longer the restraint on him that limited the amount chakra he could gain or lose. He could force out the last of his chakra sustaining his life. He could already see the black flames, a small flicker at first on Sasuke's shoulder, then furiously bursting into life and consuming his entire body. He could drag this monster down with him.
But he couldn't. Couldn't activate the sharingan. Couldn't summon Amaterasu.
"Sasuke," he managed to whisper, but Sasuke had waited long enough.