"We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love." -Freud
The dawn's air was cold and misty. The sullen murmurs of the night reverberated with the clamoring howl of a thousand throats. The atmosphere became dissonant with the horrible wind instruments that resounded and claimed reign over the inky vaults of heaven.
The wind's funereal music was perturbed with the cadenced footfalls of the man. He was the only one to walk through the narrow streets and never once glance upon the vast height of the surrounding houses. Scared, he was not. In fact, the lurking fear within the wind sang the song of his arrival.
The lord of all evil was clothed from head to food in richly embroidered black velvet pall that was wrapped negligently around his tall, stout frame after the fashion of a royal cloak. He was in triumph, for soon he would be king, and so he was dressed in the proper state of victory.
With deliberate steps he walked through the streets and like the Plague, those who did not lock tight enough the doors would feel the presence of the passing Pestilence. The innocent sojourners of the homes would tremble with unknown horror while others awoke to the calling of the Devil.
Apertures unlocked, they followed their master at last, and so the army of Darkness marched quietly through the village where the only tones sounding were the shrill shrieks of the perturbed wind.
Underneath the bending trees of a lofty forest they stood upon the moon cursed land and the men as loyal servants, like dogs, surrounded their leader. Not everyone belonged there, oh no. On the other side of the dark, oily river hid a child of a young age, shaken into consciousness by the eerie whispers of the wind, driven by curiosity to decipher the mysteries of the samurai world.
He shrouded himself within the thick undergrowth and listened with piqued interest of what these men were to plan. His young soul was enflamed with the idea of becoming even more important to his parents, especially to his father. That man whom these blind dogs lauded to the skies, that man at the other side of the thick oily river, that man standing upon the back of another only to rise above them all, was by no means a good one. Thus he listened, and he listened very carefully.
"My dear samurai, those who came today for this occasion that shall change the world once and for all, you have made the right decision. I have been rumored that I like war. My friends, I do indeed. No, my friends, I love war! My profound love in riots, in the smallest of fights, in sieges and holocausts, wars across streets, in grasslands, in the cold, frozen ground, through the deserts. I seek it on the sea, in the air, in every inch of existence, because war makes us man! War makes us warriors! We were meant to fight!"
"War makes us warriors!" The men hailed with wild excitement glowing in their eyes as they looked upon the General in front of them.
Madara's well chosen words were the key to riot, and he was well aware how to enflame the furnace of a soldier's heart, for he was one of them. The General resumed. "I love blasting the enemy into pieces with the sharp blade of the sword as I thunder across the lines of battle. My heart leaps with the purest of joy whenever a body is thrown up into the air and a heavy rain of arrows mantle it completely. There is nothing more arousing like the screaming of the enemy pleading for its life, or when a warrior stabbing tirelessly into the chest of a long-dead victim, until the gut twirls around the blade."
"War makes us warriors!" They repeated underneath the skeleton-arms of the trees, upon the unholy ground of betrayal.
"Samurai, all I ask for is a war, for Justice. A war so horrible as to make Lucifer shiver upon his throne. Samurai, I ask you as brothers, what is it you truly want? Do you wish for Justice as I do? Do you wish for a merciless, bloody war to purify this world from those unworthy? A war whose fury is built with steel, and lightning, and fire, to eliminate the weak and the useless? Do you ask for war to savage like a tempest, leaving not even vultures to scavenge on this Earth?"
The blinded fools applauded their leader and unison they screamed, "war is what we want".
The General resumed, his voice drunken with the taste of triumph. "We are the clenched fist of our Goddess, ready to strike down all who oppose us. After enduring decades under the weak leadership of the Senju, after wallowing in filth and ripped from our rights and beliefs, a simple war shall not suffice. We will show what a war is, what is the true sound of the earth shaking! We are but a single force, our clan and those who follow our steps, the remnants of a defeated army. It is time for the Senju to awake, who now lie asleep in silk we deserve to have, in a palace within which we deserve to live."
Upon that impulse, Madara lifted his gaze high upon the dull grey sky and with arms wide open he called for the power of Izanami. "Our Goddess, let us drag them out of bed, by the hair, and remind them of what we are! We will remind them of what it feels like to live in fear. We will remind them of your power and show your beauty by our blades against their throats. My brothers, let us bring them war."
In that instant came a sudden change of air. Madara and his men attributed the portentous atmosphere to the sign of Izanami and thus with eyes closed, all shut out the sight of the celestial sphere, which flashed like lightning through the General's abdomen. Out of that crash came darkness, and he heard the shrieking of his men. The tempestuous winds arose, and chilled everyone to the bone while Madara's eyes widened in sheer surprise.
It was not the blessing of the Goddess nor the fury of her brother; it was a child's blazing heart that wounded the naïve leader of the evil agency. Astonished by the bold courage of the boy, the samurai entrapped him in a circle whence he could not escape anymore. Amidst that group, Shuya recognized faces he knew, faces he once assumed to have the same good heart yet now all he saw was betrayal. Betrayal of his family and of his home.
"How did you do that, kid?" The General's curiosity was greater than his anger, thus he simply ripped a long piece of his cloak and bandaged himself with a temporary solution. Once they returned to the Palace his loyal servant would most certainly heal such a reckless injury, there was simply no need to contemplate further over such atrocity.
"I can show you again, Vulture!"
Orochimaru, -who until this very time remained inactive and uncommunicative, whilst mingled with the throng he gave himself up with great zest and enthusiasm to the enjoyment of the scene, which so obligingly spread itself out before his eyes.
"You dare calling me a vulture?" Madara mused as he walked around the child with an observing gaze shot at him. The straight posture, the cold stare within those young orbs and the tousled silver crown could not betray him more. The evil lord chuckled and a sudden wave of loud laughter escaped through his lips.
He could not believe how he was fooled by a kid, especially by this particular one. "You are a Hatake bastard, aren't you?" He chuckled as he wiped away the tears of his amusement. "Oh just how much I despise all of you! Our Goddess was truly generous today, sending you into my way! Now I can send you back to your parents in pieces!"
"Chidori!" Shuya screamed, with no sign of fear displayed upon his tender features. It was devotion, determination, and the will of Lightning that manifested the content of his soul. Even at such a young age, he was not afraid to die, for death was nothing but a mere passage into the unknown. He was also taught that people never lost each other, they simply had to wait to meet again and that way peace always governed his heart.
This time the General easily circumvented his attack, nonetheless he remained astonished with the power of the one in front of him. Shuya's demeanor reminded him of his very own young self, how fierce and fearless he used to be when he was the same age. The idea of taking his life enflamed Madara even more, and thus he gave sign to his keenest satisfaction with a maniacal laugh that reverberated amidst the howling baying of Nature.
He pulled out his sword, with a blade longer than the child was. "Should I cut your head or just impale you and put you on a skewer with a recipe attached? Your family is not vegetarian, is it?"
Shuya noticed the murmurs of the samurai, the familiar faces staring at him with pained features yet too coward to step out or to utter even just a syllable with a tone louder than that of the wind's music. That was cowardice, was it not? That is what it meant to bring shame upon the code of the Bushidou?
The boy ventured upon attacking the General with another bolt of lightning when his reckless rush into Death was abruptly impeded by his father's agency. If fortune was an existent thing, it was the moment of the minutest accuracy when thus it presented itself to the world. Shuya's Chidori vanished the second the child was grabbed by the collar and pushed away into a safe distance from the evil lord.
Orochimaru's smile loosened into a disappointed frown when Kakashi's presence dissipated the accumulating disaster. So close they were to start another riot, to spice the original plans of carnage, it was but a motion of a finger of the General and thus there could be more fury unleashed. Yet there was nothing, that damn child was now safe.
"How low can you go as to send this bastard to spy on us?" Madara asked with his fingers tight around the hilt of his corrupted katana. His eyes flashed with maintained anger and narrowed into two sharp lines that resembled to the most exquisite stroke of a brush.
"My son needs to be reminded of some rules, he was not sent here." Kakashi replied on a measured tone and did not once rivet his gaze anywhere else; one single glimpse upon the throng and he knew Madara would waste not that chance to finish him. "We are going to leave now. I presume soon we shall encounter in a battle you have been so eager to plot."
Tension grew tangible within the cold air of sunrise. Nobody made a sound, nobody moved. The scene reeked with the suffocating stench of unutterable loathing. For several minutes, although Madara looked at Kakashi full in the face, he said nothing. It was the light within the eyes that spoke more than words could ever have, as it was the inborn malevolence within the spirit that flickered in the dark stare.
"Well, why lying anymore, right?" The General, at length broke the appalling stillness of the two, with annoying simplicity ringing in his voice and he shrugged his shoulders in a leisure manner.
Indeed, there was no reason to hide anymore, the war was at the doorstep and the entrance was about to open. "A friendly advice, between enemies; next time make sure the people with whom you surround yourself don't plan on killing you. Betrayal must really hurt." Upon that note, Madara pouted and patted his chest twice above his heart to ridicule the tender-heartedness of the warrior in front of him.
After all, he did manage to fool the most significant people of the village, beginning with the King himself. The mere idea of kindness repelled him to the extreme, the single thought of believing in one another, as it only bred pain and torment.
"If my people betrayed me, I truly wish you will not suffer the same consequences once our swords clash." Kakashi bowed in front of the lord with a gesture of both politeness and ridicule, and before further actions taken, he grabbed his son and vanished amidst the titanic trees and horrible shadows of the eerie dawn.
If there was anyone to follow them, it was the guilty, the wrong, those eaten up by remorse. He knew one person in particular, who would soon be at their step. He saw his face, the ghastly pallor upon the visage, the terrified eyes, the shame all over his character.
Shuya held onto his father and uttered no syllable along the way. The child could not yet measure the severity of his actions, yet he did feel the erroneousness of it all. He was not supposed to leave alone, no matter the knowledge in his possession. He was most definitely not supposed to disappear without a word and thus scare his parents to the extreme. To be brief, he was truly sorry.
Upon arriving home, the child hastened from his father's side and rapidly threw himself on the ground in a deep bow. His forehead touched upon the floor of the living room within which they were and he dared not look up, as he feared the fury of the elder in front of him. He hesitated upon speaking, perhaps just a quiet utter of apology would suffice, or louder entreaty for forgiveness.
"Shuya. Look at me, son." His voice was too rigid to decipher anything from it. It was too demure, too peaceful.
The child trembled. He did not half like the way Kakashi could speak, since there was nothing more confusing than the stillness within the voiced message.
"I said look at me. Stand up."
Shuya reluctantly lifted his head towards him and at length he stood back on his feet. He sensed the warm aura of his mother behind him, the possible tears upon her face assuming the terrified state of her tender heart. He must have surely scared her, or worse. Definitely, it was the worse. "Papa…"
"Why did you do such a stupid thing, son? What on earth made you leave before sunrise?"
"I wanted to be a samurai, like you."
"You could have died, Shuya." Kakashi sighed as he knelt in front of him. Gently he lifted the child's chin up whose eyes were shot at the ground and his hands fidgeted in nervousness behind his back. "I did not teach you to be reckless, did I?"
"No…" He shook his head slowly with a sorrowful frown plastering across his face. His large dark orbs sought anger within his father's features yet all he saw was concern.
"Son, I will not always be there to protect you. One day, you will have to take care of your mother and yourself as well. You cannot behave recklessly, do you understand? Life does not give second chances."
"But Papa, what they said…! What they want! Did you know about it? Do you know what they will do? Why was your group there? Why aren't they with us? Why was Iruka-sama there?"
"What is he talking about?" Rin bit upon her lip as she was quietly listening to the two. She leaned against the door frame with arms loosely folded over her chest, her heart unquiet.
"General Madara has been plotting a coup d'état. Half of our men changed sides once he offered a power we shan't possess. Iruka is one of them. Unfortunately, we only figured it out yesterday." Kakashi replied, his tone void of any emotion.
"That cannot be possible…" The young wife gasped in bafflement as the words slowly sank in. It was hard to comprehend, even harder to believe how someone like him could commit such a crime. It was easy to grow unmindful of the very fact that Iruka was already a traitor, as if not of the kingdom but of his friend.
"Perhaps you should get to know people first before you let them engage in different sorts of activities with you." Kakashi retorted upon a sudden impulse of jealousy as noticing the startled features on his beloved's face. The idea of her being more worried over Iruka than him came with profound inner struggle, something he could not show, especially not in front of their son.
"Shuya…Could you go to your room for a minute?" Rin ventured to speak yet quickly she was detained from furthering her request. The samurai knew well the intentions of the mother.
"He stays." He spoke and rose from the ground while the child's face grew somber in confusion. He had but only some faint notion of the meaning of it all and dearly he wished his instincts were wrong. "Have you made your decision? Now that you know what kind of man you love?"
"You are all the same, Kakashi." Rin began as she wiped her tears away and at length slowly let her arms fell on her sides. "All you think about is killing and fights and war. Did you see what it did to our son? He almost died today! On your account!"
"No, Mama, I-…" The situation was nowhere beneficial to the father, Shuya was aware of it, whilst he did nothing, in fact. Why could she not see that? The child wanted to be a samurai; he wanted to be just like his father. What was so hard to realize about the purest wish of his young soul?
"Not now, Shuya!" Rin ventured with a pained cry and she emptied the contents of her heart. She did not hold back, she could not, not anymore. "If…If this is all true, then the best thing to do is to…You have to let me be with him. You cannot win this war alone, and I need to keep Shuya safe."
"How can you think so foolishly? You think the General should win? Is that so?"
"No, he should not…However…" She shook her head while her arms reached for her son. "If you don't have your group to fight, nobody will fight for those Royals. I will not support a side that is deemed for death. I need to make sure my baby can grow up, in peace. Iruka is a generally peaceful man, Kakashi. You are cold, and…"
He could not believe his ears, he must be dreaming. It could only be but a nightmare, a joke, a ludicrous scene of his wild imagination. He could not fathom the moment, it was impossible.
"You are not taking Shuya away. I will sign your damn papers and you do whatever you want, if you are so blinded by fear, but…" He was rapidly interrupted, and the pain that seized his heart now spread itself swiftly all over, through the chest and mind until he grew completely benumbed in agony.
"How will your protect him, huh? How will you take care of him when hundreds will surround you and want to kill you? You are barely even here anymore! Please sign those papers and let us go!"
"Mama no, I want to stay! The Vulture is evil Mama. Please!"
"You have no say in this, Shuya. Everything is for your safety!" Her slim fingers squeezed and pulled the child further from the warrior who stood frozen in the place.
Kakashi became a slave of circumstances, whence escape there was none, to him. His tone softened for the sole purpose of making her listen, yet nothing he could say was to change the course of Fate. "Rin, listen, you have no idea what you are doing. Things are much more complicated than they seem to you, now. Please, don't do this."
He spoke with grave caution, whilst the samurai followed them through the short, narrow corridor and stopped at the entrance of the kitchen. In an agony of expectation, he awaited her reply. After what seemed the lapse of a century, it came at last.
"No, you do not have an idea, Kakashi! If you love us, then you have to keep us safe, and beside you, it is not. Please, sign those papers. I put them on the counter." She was cold the way she responded while her fingers pointed at the documents.
Shuya cried and struggled yet his pleading found no response nor softened the heart of the woman. She believed in the downfall of the Senju too much, and her naivety led her upon a path of blind faith. It was not the words that hurt, but the fact that she was right; Kakashi could not protect his child, not when the pandemonium was near.
"Please sign it. Either way, we go." Rin repeated.
That woman, whose loveliness and love enveloped his existence for years, was now but an illusion of his aching soul. His only choice was to obey, yet the singular idea of giving up on those he loved more than anything, and watch darkness embrace them was unbearable, even for a spirit made of iron. Kakashi could not fathom the personal hell within which he was forced, in that instant.
"I will not be able to save you, anymore." At length, he handed her the scroll, which she was so eager to have it completed by his signature. His words sounded more of a warning than of a sorrowful remonstrance.
In that moment, they were gone. It was but a second of time, a glance within the distance, a deep inhalation of the cold air to watch them leave. His pale lips parted as if for a scream, yet no words came, for his thoughts seemed too frightful to be uttered. She never looked back. It was all too sudden. He only just brought back their son and now, he was all alone.
The samurai could not help but laugh as he wallowed in despair whilst his mind still battled with the truth. He sat for hours upon the porch, shriveled, fatigued, depressed, opium-crazed, and broke.
The air was full of the joyousness of early spring. The heavy scent of lilies filled the air while the breeze stirred amidst the thick emerald crown of the lofty trees. Animals hid within the long unmown grass and children laughed cheerfully upon the meadow. The sky was bright as time wore along, but there was a shiver within the wind.
And now, some hours of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came over the features of the samurai. His attention was suddenly drawn to some vague sound that issued from the vicinity of the village. Upon then, he perceived footfalls easily distinguishable, whilst his eyes leisurely followed the approaching man.
By that time, the pallor of Kakashi's countenance had assumed a more ghastly hue and the deep dark luminousness of his eyes had utterly gone out. He drew long, deep sighs from his chest, and ignored the friendly waves directed to him. To be brief, Kakashi in that moment could not care less about the surroundings, or about the people.
"Hey man,'Kashi!" Asuma roared upon arrival while confusion spread all over his face. "We were expecting you today. What happened? What is this face? Are you listening to me?" He waved his hand in front of the other's face whence no reaction came. "Kakashi?"
"That earnest mutual love, which burned within our ribcages…how vainly we flattered ourselves, feeling so happy in its first springing, yet in time, it merely became painful to love. Hate would have been mercy then. Hate would be mercy now, yet all I have is disconsolation." Kakashi whispered those syllables, which came with a thousand soul-annihilating memories of bygone days, and struck upon his friend's soul with the shock of a battery.
Upon hearing Kakashi, Asuma took a cue at once and understood the wild numbness of his comrade. "Hey man…You know what, you can tell me all about it when we get to Ichiraku's." His efforts seemed fruitless when Kakashi ventured to reply.
"I do not wish to go there." Kakashi rose from the porch with a refusing look upon his face.
"You must. You need to get over your heartbreak. Madara declared war on those refusing to join him. Three samurai were already killed who wanted to reveal the General's plans to the King. He is planning the coup d'état tomorrow, after the wedding."
"The wedding…I completely forgot."
"We need to make a plan alone, since our master is unaware of everything. Half of our group has switched sides. Let us drink on the misery and fight tomorrow, my friend. Come. I found some good books in my father's drawer."
The silver crowned warrior stepped unsteadily forward, while Asuma followed immediately at his heels. "It would be irrational to suppose that we can win anymore."
"The Kakashi I know would never say that." The other shook his head in discontent, as at length they betook towards the village.
"If what you say is true, that we lost most of our men, and we are completely isolated from our master to warn him. Madara must be solid as a rock about his victory. It means he has everything ready."
"So what? We have the Jira girl and my old man. And Guy who only needs a little sake to get it going."
"That 'Jira girl' is the heiress. She is already injured, I would never let her fight this war, Asuma. We still have to find a way to warn her, at least. And tell her to stay out of this. It would be the best if she left. I can't save everyone. I don't even know how I will help Rin anymore." He said with decision.
After several hours…
The day waned; and, as its light faded away, Tsunade became possessed by a vague uneasiness she could not quite explain. It was an anxiety such as the sleeper feels when sad, real sounds fall continuously within her ears. Low, dull tones, solemn, at long but equal intervals, which would mingle with melancholic dreams. They were the sounds of doom, a future she considered Darkness. They were the music of the brazen lungs of Hell.
A burdened sigh escaped through her lips while she stepped to the wooden vanity of her room and placed the hairbrush upon it. She gathered the unruly tendrils of her long golden locks into a bun and glanced back into the mirror with grave reluctance, as the view did not please her, in fact, she despised it.
She wore a heavy silk with rich design, woven in bright crimson that fell upon the ground. The bridal kimono was characterized by an abundance of exquisite taste, colourful to a sickening extent and rich in embroidery. Certainly, it was a robe of particular needlecraft yet the singular idea of having to wear it made her shudder with disgust.
"You look wonderful…" Hashirama's voice sounded in the room as he parted the sliding doors open upon entering.
"I look horrible." She sighed as she moved around in the royal garments, her heart heavy with despair. "I…Is there anything…Hashirama-sama, must I do this? Couldn't I become the Queen once I am 18? It is next week anyway..."
"A king is always needed for ruling, dear Tsunade. Unfortunately, women do not have many rights; you have more than others do because you are a Senju. This is a world led by men."
"This is cruel and unjust, Uncle." She folded her arms over her bosom while her gaze rested upon the ground.
"That, I cannot do much about. I can only help you endure it."
"But the General…Uncle…Why do you have such blind faith in him?"
"I have known him my entire life, Tsunade." Hashirama began as he took a seat upon the velvet couch, his eyes never leaving the beloved child. "I understand your fear and confusion, but nobody else is more fitting for the throne than him. He is a good person, he is just different. You are scared; it is only natural that you question him."
"He killed the priest, Hashirama-sama!" She was stubborn to the core as she furthered the animated discussion. With a restless spirit she began to pace up and down in the room, whilst listened to the elder's replies.
The syllables uttered were termed with pure love and infatuation. "He did it to protect everyone. The priest…He was a traitor, Tsunade. Lord Shikaku and Lord Minato found all the evidence at the shrine. Listen, my dear… Marriage is not about love. It is a political step to strengthen our nation. I truly believe you will grow to like Madara, perhaps feel even more than that. That way, your future won't be miserable."
"And if I love someone else? What if I am in love with someone?"
The King could not help but chuckle. "The love you might feel is but a fancy or a fantasy of the moment. It is but a baseless and unstable creation rather of the imagination than of the heart. It is an impulse, a yearning for something exciting. My dear Tsunade, you do not even know anyone, how could you think what you feel is deeper than a spark of foolish curiosity?"
"But if I did? What if I do like someone?"
"Is he of noble blood?" Curiosity shaped his eyebrows as he asked.
"No…I do not think so…Well, he is not like us…But his heart is purely noble." She knew her answer was not satisfactory but she spoke it nonetheless. Deeply she believed the man she so fancied was better than most people of the Court, as he too was but a victim of Fate.
"Then he is a no one." His words reverberated in the air like sharp knives arriving at her direction with mad velocity.
Every utterance was a painful music to her heart that grew embittered by the future already sealed. Even at the risk of offending him, she furthered. "This is how my mother felt? When she married you?"
There came a moment of silence while the King sought the right words to say. In truth, he was aware of the reality, yet to utter it was a task harder than he would have believed so. "I presume yes." Now, there came a low laugh that erected the hairs upon her skin.
Her heart grew sick the longer she pondered about her fate. Hashirama was a kind man whilst Madara was nothing of the same character. How could she love that demon? At least her mother was surrounded with goodness, such things only reveries to her now. Her sweet, young features experienced a radical alteration for the worse, and she stopped on her tracks upon asking, "So I marry him…And that is all, right?"
"Of course not, child. I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily, but you should know that everything you have learnt so far was to serve you becoming a proper wife, and mother."
"Can I become a mother when I want to?" She proposed an idea, hoping dearly she could at least decide about the date, approximately around never. Children she would never give to the evil lord as it repelled her to the extreme to conceive even the mere thought of it.
"No. It is a customary rule to bed after the wedding. It is a part of the ceremony. Otherwise, Madara cannot take the throne. You two need to do everything by tradition. It is only fortunate that the General does not have brothers anymore. Imagine you running off with one of them, like your mother tried." Hashirama mused to himself with a bitter tone, finding joy in his own pitiable life.
"She did?"
The King nodded. "She was already expecting you when we married. The only reason I could become a king was that we kept it as a secret. If it had been revealed, Tobirama would have taken the throne."
"So I cannot marry someone without noble blood but I could ruin my wedding if Madara was not the first I had se-..."
"This conversation is making me uncomfortable, Tsunade." He interrupted as he rose from the couch, his fatigued visage tinted in red shades of embarrassment. "You should focus on your duties and have a good rest for tomorrow. You shan't think about such. You are a woman, you must refrain yourself from being so open to these sensitive subjects."
"I feel like being a damn puppet to this kingdom."
"Child…Your task is to raise heirs. That should make you happy. The King will take care of the rest."
"This is complete superiority over women."
"I told you, Tsunade. You have more rights than most of them. Why are you being so ungrateful?"
"Please, leave me alone now. I have a headache. I need to get a good night sleep, for tomorrow. You do not want me to scare your friend to death, do you? I cannot allow looking tired."
"All right. You should rest. And please, stop being immature. You need to be responsible for the things you say and do. Everything has consequences." Upon speaking those last words, the King left the room.
"I will keep that in mind, Hashirama-sama. You will see." With an agitated soul she ventured to reply yet she knew she was not heard anymore. She was shaking in every limb with burning fury that rapidly consumed her sanity. She did not doubt the doom already prepared for her, no matter what her actions were to be.
If doom indeed was approaching, she might as well choose the one most fitting to her liking. Quietly the heiress waited until stillness pervaded all Nature and amidst the luxuriant and shadowing groves, in the dull gloom of the sweet primaveral evening she hastened to make an end of her labor.
After a few hours…
Laying on the futon in a private room, Kakashi was reading a singular and somewhat ingenious little book whose title bore the name 'Icha Icha Paradise'. Every fibre of the samurai's frame was benumbed in alcohol. Dry bottles lay scattered around him upon the tatami floor, once he drowned in sake all memory of the deed of willing surrender.
His hand reached for anything at least half full, while his eyes were reluctant to move away from the blurred lines of the exquisite content. With a sigh, he canvassed his surroundings and grabbed the neck of a bottle. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light of satisfaction. Then, he laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation nobody could quite comprehend.
After some few hours of pain, the warrior was now filled with dreamy delirium and was replete in ecstasy. Once sober, and if he remembered, he would be grateful to Asuma for bringing him here. Before he could have lingered on that thought any longer, there was a faint knock on the door. Numb from alcohol he merely shouted, his coarse voice followed by a wicked chuckle of his irrational mind.
"Kakashi? Asuma-sama said you were…" The innocent creature's eyes widened and her pale skin reddened with timid zeal. Her hands rapidly shut back the door whilst she dreaded she was to swoon in any second.
"Wa-wait!" Kakashi staggered forward at once, and a few steps brought him to reopen the entrance behind which the heiress stood, rigid as marble. "Sorry Tsuna… I wass just rrreading."
"Reading? Naked? On the floor?" The young woman whispered whilst she encouraged the man to step back inside, for the view was by no means innocent to stranger eyes. "What on earth did happen to you? I have never seen you like this."
"You obviii-ously don't know me, then." He slurred with a cold gaze offered to her. It took all the power of the invalid to remain standing but he was nonetheless adamant in pretending his cool.
"Cut your nonsense, Kakashi. You are drunk and…aren't you cold?" Tsunade frowned as she spoke boldly, such an action drawing a wide smile over the samurai's face. He did enjoy a free spirit, did he not?
"What about you? You look like a freaking peacock in that thing." Kakashi teased the heiress who grew uneasy with his comment.
She was well aware of the ridiculous state she was in, not to mention the reason of her presence. "This is my wedding dress." She sighed upon confession and in that instant shut her eyes to the ground.
"I am not going to marry you, ifff that is why you came."
"I would rather die than ask that of you!" She retorted but grew silent all of a sudden.
Her shyness came to his perception, the sudden hesitation in her voice that she dared not speak more of her true intentions. Kakashi leaned down to grab the almost empty bottle of sake and handed it to her.
"What do you want then, peacock?" Thus, he watched her, his eyes did not leave an inch of the view unexplored.
The heiress was a magical sight to behold, and it was even easier to get lost in the moment of adoration of her countenance. She wore in a graceful and degage manner a large and beautiful dress of the finest handicraft; her hair hung in naughty ringlets over her neck whilst a soft smile played about her full, ripen mouth.
Before she could have said anything, Tsunade swallowed the drink unhesitatingly. "Kakashi,..."
"Yes?"
This delicate little creature, in the trembling of her wasted consciousness, in the peachy hue of her lips, at length said; "I want you to sleep with me. Please."
Glances had passed between them, glances within complete quietude of the air. Kakashi observed the nervous vacillation in her visage, the joyous inquietude in her faultless gaze. She had no idea of what she asked, did she? "Have you gone mad, Senju?"
"I don't trust anyone else. Hell, I don't even know anyone else to ask! You surely know how to do it. Please." Her eyes, those magnificent hazel eyes, had not belied her noble heart. Truly, there was no one she wished to be with, in that moment, and so her fingers reached behind her back to undo the heavy layers of vestiture. "I don't trust anyone else to do it." She repeated whilst invisible tears wetted her eyes. She must have been a pitiable sight, pleading for such blasphemous desires from a man with a family.
He could not decipher why in the name of everything rational this was happening, but indeed it was real. She was standing right there, her full lips besprinkled in the drops of alcohol, her body carefully vested, her hair minutely made. Whereas sanity there was none, upon an impulse abrupt, he broke forth with ardor and claimed those ripen mouth with his.
The perfume with which her tenderness caressed his soul to the last, affected him with sweet fancies of flowers, far more lovely than any of the Earth. His senses, although excited in degree, were not irregular in action. Kakashi pulled her against him with an extravagance of precision, not less than of sensibility. His touch underwent a modification more peculiar, more ardent as he eagerly freed her petite frame from the royal garments.
On her sweet tongue, so adapted to his passion, he gave loose to the impetuous enthusiasm of his nature. Obediently, she fought the fierce battle of his mouth whilst his hands explored the bare canvas of her body.
Due to the abundant extent of alcohol, each impression was tardily received, but resulted always in the highest physical pleasure. Her closeness, her touch, her taste filled his whole being with a sensual delight immeasurable.
They worked out their own way of destruction in the perversion of their taste, soul enflamed by the stir of lust. The samurai laid his muse amidst the scattered bottles and open books, the soft skin clashing against the sheets of the futon. Kakashi's visage was bewitched by the unmitigated display of her untouched body, a piece of art on its own. It was a sight of far solitudes, primeval, odorous, and unexplored.
He wanted to conquer her, in a way only a man could conquer a woman. It thrilled every fibre of his frame with ecstasy alone, that she was there, that she coveted his touch, that she needed only him.
His parted lips trailed from her mouth, and traced tender kisses upon her throat and down her sweet full bosom. By sudden shyness she reached to cover the rosy peaks of her beautifully curved breasts and thus Kakashi's fingers detained her small hands before such accident was to occur. The heiress grew red to the action and reaction he stirred within her, the abundant torrents of blood that rushed in her body, the feeling of heat that overwhelmed her with sensations completely unknown. Through her mouth little moans escaped into the heavy atmosphere of lust, joyous cries she could not contain anymore.
The samurai's tongue was skilled like his hands in battle, it was agile, arousing and the sight of him feasting upon her soft bosom sent a strange ache between her legs. She could not fathom such sensation, or the waves of soft shivers that slowly wetted her insides. Her graceful legs reached around the man's waist with an unconquerable need to feel him.
It was but moments when at last, they discarded the notion of comeliness and pleasure came in a long, sharp cry.
Her sweet body trembled at the unison, her young and delicate flesh unfurled with one swift motion of the warrior's thick member. Of pain there was some little; of pleasure there was much. The woman's soft voice mingled with the husky moans of the man who slowly guided himself back and forth within her. The original resistance of her tight insides ceased and with a steady pace, their loins undulated sensually against one another.
She was loud, greedy, and held him with insatiable thirst for pleasure; every little detail that turned his wanton pounding even more exhilarating. She kissed him fiercely and even fiercer he was to reply. The moments of love turned into lustful battling when the growing euphoria rapidly drove them to a desire-maddened state. She conquered his body as her petite existence straddled him, and farther they rolled amidst the mess with bodies clashing, legs locking, and moans filling the air.
His name was the last she uttered, the syllables rolled down on her tongue like honey when a sudden wave of sheer pleasure took over her. Her fingers sank into his shoulders while she trembled underneath him, the sensation so great she never thought it existed. The samurai bathed her warm insides with the rich traces of his satisfaction, and slowly and fatigued guided himself out of her. With a content sigh he fell upon the ground beside the woman panting, their gazes locked at the dull view of the ceiling.
The heat of passion began to fade and the first breeze of the generally cold air chilled the heiress' skin. With reluctance and pleasantly aching body her hands reached for the garments and loosely she blanketed her frame. "I should go."
"Go, then. I am glad that you are happy now. Women are all the same."
Her young features darkened in a frown and her eyes evoked confusion within. She could not ascribe his comment to the previous occurrences and thus she grew concerned about the root of it. The sudden gloom that enveloped them grew tangible within the light atmosphere. Kakashi's tone was devoid of any emotion, his heart recluse of kindness.
"I changed my mind." Tsunade bit upon her raw lower lip, and grabbed the blanket from the floor to cover the bare body of the man beside her. She could not deny the majestic view of the samurai, the single sight of him arousing to the blindest of eyes and wicked to the purest of soul. Nonetheless, the air was cold and she must control her bodily responses.
With delirious torpor still, she lay back beside him; Kakashi replied simply turning on his side, but the heiress was adamant. "I know what you like…" She whispered on a candid tone and she reached up to his hair to stroke the silky tendrils of his silver-crown.
After a few minutes, he confessed with frustration completely dissipated from his soul. "I really like that." His eyes closed in order to feel only her caresses, to perceive nothing else of this world except her existence. Before he could have said anything else, -since he did ponder hard what else to add not to seem so cold-, there was a kiss she planted upon his back, which made him shiver with delight, the kind he has long forgotten. It was the sensation of pure affection, recluse of lust or desire. It was the sheerest notion of care and kindness, which bloomed in the heart and was born by the action of a simple peck. "Tsuna."
"Yes?"
"Why did you forgive me? I am a ruthless murderer."
"Are you still drunk?" She sat up halfway, when she was stopped.
Kakashi turned with the second her indulging caresses vanished and reclaimed the relishable sensation with the simple motion of pulling her back to him. He needed to hear it from her, in fact he longed to be called that way, thus it would be true. Ever since the accusation spoken out loud, at first it rang in his ears, then it seized at his heart and spread like contagion all over his brain. If she said the same, then it was true, and if it was indeed nothing but reality, he did the right thing letting his family go.
Upon awaiting the answer, they faced each other, the young woman comfortably held in his arm. To her, his words were fortuitous and alarming which only led her to believe her words had utmost significance, thus they needed to be chosen wisely. Unfalteringly, she resumed. "I did want to kill you. I never felt anger and pain like that before. And even if my brain grows blank, I can never forget the memory of it. Also, I cannot forget the memory of your face. The way you looked at me, guilt-eaten."
She paused and took a deep breath to restrain the recollection of the past becoming visible upon her face. She did not want to cry, it was simply not the time for it. "Everyone in my family follows rules and lives by them. I know what it means to sacrifice your life for a code. My father did the same. My uncle does the same. You didn't kill him because you wanted to, I could never believe that. You did it because you had no choice. For a samurai the orders of the master are above everything. I cannot imagine how you felt when you realized it wasn't Hashirama-sama's wish. I am just glad you didn't kill yourself. I know that most of you commit suicide upon failure."
She spoke with unexpected candor and Kakashi grew blank in mind. He did not find the words to say or to even whisper them. Memories afflicted his spirit unduly, whilst he struggled to find the egress from the abysmal trap of remorse.
Tsunade observed his rapidly changing features with chief interest. The faultless portraiture grew dismal with sorrow, the same expression she had seen before. "Kakashi." Impelled by affection she reached up to his cheek and kissed it ever so softly.
In that instant, his mind jerked back to reality. "I am sorry. I am really sorry." He sighed.
"Can we talk about something else?" She proposed.
"Like what?"
"Can we do it again? If it is the last good day I have, I want to spend it with you."
