Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. (Otherwise, it'd have ended by now...)
Itachi sifts inside the unlit bedroom, the shadows his tail. The room is shaded conspiring blues and blacks, and he blends in like words on a page. His steps are unnaturally light, a specter-like trait apparent.
He watches the still antique bed at his side and then gaits to the open balcony doors. Cool wind, swirled about beams of moonlight, surges towards him, through him. As he steps onto the stone balcony, the trees far beneath rustle in homage, the dark grasses bowing and hissing anxiously. The blue of night descends, illuminated by faint window lights through the house and, of course, Lady Moon.
Taking a silent breath, his gaze saunters to the waning orb whispering from the distance of the sky. He lets its light fall on him, reflect from his tight and milky skin. Rebelling from long sun basks, his color retains a warm, yet pale, tone. Wind whispers temptations in his ears.
His dark eyes are soft now, off-guard for a moment's indulgence. His broad shoulders loosen, but his sights are still fixed on the moon. He seeks it like a reassurance.
His hand slips into a marred jean pocket, under the torn edge of a black shirt. It's an habitual position of his, noticed by many. His handsome, untouchable face is set to an assertive concentration, one known to undo even the most composed demeanors with desires and gasps. However, his cold, "touch-me-not" factor is void and left is a mute, delicately beautiful scion of the moon.
He sighs, letting hair past his ears, giving them up to the mischievous antics of wind. Turning abruptly, he stalks back inside his dim room, the one he'd slept in unsaid years ago, his childhood. His feathery steps pause at the bedside; he bends slightly, deft hands slipping to a resting figure among the sheets.
"Can't sleep?" he asks softly, his fingers brushing their face. "Sakari?"
Sakari's head turns involuntarily, Itachi's touch lending unwanted chills. "Not for days," she replies glumly.
"I've heard," he murmurs. Continuing, he sits. "Surprisingly from Kakashi."
"Well, Iruka hasn't been here to worry over me." Resting her elbow on the comforter, she pulls herself up, facing him. "Long," she adds.
"Even us 'vampires'," Itachi says the human term almost mockingly, "need rest, once a while. Sleep is blessed upon all creatures, even those as wretched as us." He finishes caustically, the meaning of his words lost in the velvet of his tone.
"Is that why our dreams last so long?" Sakari asks derisively. Her hand grips the white sheets out of boredum. "Dreams stretching onto days, and all the while we aren't allowed to interrupt them by waking."
For those with the born--or forcibly born--lust for drinking blood are daunted with the duty to dream. Some dreams do stretch pleasantly, but there's never insurance that all can be so fortunate. These dreams can last days in the living world--no doubt they seem even longer in the dreamt world--and continue until whatever purpose in spawning them is complete. Dreams can be trivial. Dreams can be premonitions. Further, the dreamer was never allowed to waken until the dream's end.
"Are they to blight even our 'blessings'?" Sakari says quietly.
After a pause to consider, Itachi replies shortly, "Dreams are rare, anyhow, my love." Unconsciously moving closer, he regards her with amusement. "After all, are not all our blesses and curses wound in one string?"
Sakari almost, but not quite, laughs. "Answers the perverse mind of one entranced with all of our 'abilities'."
Smiling thinly, he once again brushes his hand to her cheek. She looks back at him silently, this time warming to the touch. Her expression, however, is unreadable to all.
To all but him.
"It look's like you've been doing more than negotiating," she muses, speaking before he can get in a word of inquiry. Her hand moves to the white scar across his cheek; the soft of her finger touches it with the lightness of a feather. "A scar from rhyzite."
Knowing full well her intentions, he plays along. He even comes close to preferring to. Itachi shuts his eyes at the intimate touch, and he unwinds to be the youth that appears so naturally from his exterior but rarely showed in his actions. "Yes, we did participate in fights--"
"'We' meaning Hoshigaki?" she mumbles irritably.
He smirks, idly remembering her negative feelings towards the gregarious nature of his acquaintance. "And others. Fortunately--or unfortunately, if you might think--for us, we encountered several of those we might soon be at war with. It's how we've gained information of them."
She finishes for him, "And how they've gain information of us." Her gaze his far away now, and she replaces her hand to her side.
Itachi's expression grows stern. In his soft and iced voice, he utters, "And your wound--"
"Nothing but a scar now," she interrupts with a shrug.
He seems close to replying, but Itachi freezes. He hears the faraway sound of scuffling, an unnatural and animalistic movement several corridors down.
"Do you hear it?" he whispers, his voice blending with the murmurs of the wind.
Sakari shuts her eyes apprehensively and then opens them immediately after. "The cellar," she says quickly.
"It's moving." The both are soon at their feet, but Sakari stops Itachi urgently.
Her gaze strays to the door. "Outside," she says oddly.
Itachi looks back at her dubiously but listens anyhow. The two swiftly step onto the balcony and look down, stunned to see a pair of grinning, red-rimmed eyes.
Sasuke creeps into the dim hallway. Small, identical lamps--barely lit--line the beige walls, each about eight feet apart. So with some credit to the lamps', Sasuke can see perfectly through the night-filled hall. His advanced vision outdoes the advantages of even the lights.
Sasuke raises the dirty cuffs of his jeans, making sure that they won't drag and produce noise. He stalks quietly across the marble floor, intending to veer to the left, to the stairs. He chooses not to breathe and proceeds as quietly as possible, practically walking on his heels.
Moving swiftly and reaching the corridor's end, Sasuke pauses to listen.
Just moments ago, he'd heard the most unnerving sound of movement, like a beast caught between traipsing and lumbering. He was in his room, brooding over both the grim tone of his brother's voice and the tension balanced over Neji's curved brows. At the same time, he'd been contemplating his own situation--the hunger issue--the one he'd failed to mention to his brother, save anyone.
He'd been pacing circles around his bed, occasionally stopping to watch the swift rise of the moon. Many of his coven and almost all of the other had left an hour before, deciding to catch up at a less disconcerting hour. The remainder had been welcome to board in some of the unending halls of spare rooms.
Then the noise had started, like a subtle whisper in Sasuke's ear. He could focus on no other sound and, with rising goosebumps, he'd grabbed his longsword of rhyzite--his birthright--and slipped from his bedroom. There was an intruder in the mansion.
If Sasuke had detected noise, then most definitely--he thought this sardonically--his brother had as well. He'd even listened for noise from the far corridor of Itachi's chambers, but the sound within them had been moving away from the intruder's location. Pondering this briefly, Sasuke had let the matter go, immediately fixating on the task at hand.
Sasuke flinches.
The sound--an eerie scuffle--errupts in his ear again, and the hazy image of being swallowed by unseen jaws produces itselfs in his mind. He heads left silently, inaudibly gulping; this corridor is dark, with no lamps. Unconsciously, his skilled grip on his sword tightens.
Suddenly, he hears the close pad of footsteps. Recognizing them to be of a more civil pace, Sasuke relaxes a little but nonetheless raises his weapon formidably. He waits for the attack, his knees bending slightly and his eyes flashing animalistically. From the short distance he can see a flash of yellow, and he heightens his sword, starting a full, strong swing when--
"Stop it!" a familiar voice hisses.
Freezing, Sasuke twists backwards, squinting slightly to see in the darkness. He lowers his sword but frowns. "Neji," he whispers.
Stepping close enough to be sure, Sasuke nods, confirming the identity of at least one of the shadows. He starts quietly, "Then who--"
The "yellow flash" appears before him, and Ino narrows her brows behind her blonde hair. "Ino," she mumbles, "who else?"
"And Kabuto," an amused voice says from behind her. And, indeed, a light-haired figure strides from behind Ino, sporting no glasses but a familiar face.
"I guess you all heard the noise, too," Sasuke whispers, tucking his sword at his side.
Kabuto--though Sasuke can barely see this--shakes his head. "No, Uchiha, not at first. I heard the sounds of fighting outside the back of the mansion--"
"My brother," Sasuke states quietly, unnerved.
Licking his dry lips, Kabuto nods. "And when I ventured closer to that area I began to hear the noise from the cellar."
"I heard the noise from the cellar first," Ino says quietly. "I was heading there--I brought my kunai--when I bumped into Neji. He almost chopped my neck, much worse than you, Sasuke." She gives Neji a reproachful glance. "Damn it, Neji, being a tightwad doesn't win fights."
"Neither does being pushover," Neji muses. Sasuke hears him cross his arms. "But it doesn't matter. We have to get to the cellar, or wherever the intruder's ended up by now. He could be breathing at our neck's right now, by the immense racket we've been making."
Ino cringes, cagily turning around. "Don't say those kinds of things, Neji," she murmurs shakily.
Sasuke stiffens, his ears suddenly pounding. "It's coming," he says, almost inaudibly, "from the stairs."
Kabuto, too, stands straight, watching the dark haze in front of them. "Well, we can't fight it here," he snaps. "The hallway's too narrow."
The four immediately fall back, running--no, sprinting to the nearest main room. Sasuke can hear the scuffling turn into a hobbling dash and a high-pitched growl that overturns his stomach. His heart's false beat reverberating in his ears, Sasuke quickens his pace; his companions--and their attacker, he notes warily--follow suite.
Due to the narrow hall, the four run single file, Sasuke at the front and Kabuto hairs behind him. Sasuke notices Ino, behind him, slip on a worn rug, faltering in her steps. Neji grabs her swiftly and, reflexively shoving her ahead of him, falls to the rear.
Hearing their follower's high growl again, Sasuke shivers. Cold sweat runs from his temples, and he can almost feel the distance from them and their attacker shorten.
Apparently, he isn't the only one.
Neji stops short. Sasuke, mortified, stops as well, Kabuto nearly tumbling into him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sasuke barks. "We have to move!"
"Go on ahead to the main room," Neji says quickly, taking a pair of duel swords--with rhyzite blades--from his belt. "It'll be a sad fight if that thing overtakes us while we're running single-file. I'll distract it until you all get there. Now, go!"
With neither a nod of confirmation nor understanding, Sasuke starts running again. Kabuto ensues, dragging a protesting Ino behind him. As they continue hotly, Sasuke can faintly hear the sound of slashing and the outraged yells of fighting. Swallowing, he goes even faster.
So when the wide main room comes into site, Sasuke nearly collapses in relief. Ino and Kabuto stumble behind him, panting from the rush of their flight.
But Sasuke wastes no time. Examining the closely-arranged furniture, he purses his lip, runnning to spread them to the back of the room. Kabuto guards the door thin-lippedly; he draws a lance-like weapon that's been strapped to his side. It's tip glows a diluted, heated red. Ino, stepping behind Kabuto, spins several kunai from her shirt pocket, flicking them about her wrist skillfully. She fiddles with them nervously.
"Sasuke, they're coming," she says quietly, her low tone hiding her trembles.
"That thing's outnumbered," Kabuto scoffs, but he yields tensely. "And yet--"
Sasuke raises his sword to his face, wondering vaguely the becomings of his brother. He watches his reflection, refracted by the leveled split on the red-glown sword. His face is haggard and worn, set grimly. He realizes then how closely he's come to resemble his late father. Gritting his teeth, Sasuke moves the blade to an attacking position.
At that moment, Neji bursts into the room, a chunk of debris from the wall following him. Dust rises in the room, and Sasuke and Ino are forced to retreat backward from coughing. Sasuke opens his eyes at a crack and sees Neji rise unsteadily. Cracked blood cleaves to his cheek where what appears to be a claw mark streaks to his chin. Similar marks are manifested at his arms and chest, and Sasuke forces himself to face the creature entering.
A feathery chill inches up Sasuke's spine as the misty dust finally settles. Two shadows merge at the doorway. One of them is Kabuto, keen on his attack; his lance gleams arcanely.
The other is a translucent-skinned figure, thin and straight. It looks like an ordinary man, and yet, it doesn't. Its eyes slant inward, narrow, yellow diamonds emerging from a powdery white face. They grin a malevolent grin, an unrestrained curve of lips, impossibly bright, too bright. It's as if its lips had been sewn that way. Sasuke hears Ino scream in alarm, and she releases three knives in the phantom's direction.
Kabuto has to step back to avoiding getting hit, but the figure doesn't move. Ino's knives gorge directly into the creature's taut chest, the rhyzite at their tips drawing immediate blood.
The creature doesn't react, as if drugged in its own perverse thrill. In fact, Sasuke can identify similar wounds winding up its slender figure, made by Neji and Kabuto. The phantom's cheek bones extend alarmingly accurately from its sleek face as its grin impresses farther into the frame of its face. Sasuke can see frozen veins beneath the frail excuse for skin.
The phantom-like man is dressed all in white, resembling a cherub in its own twisted way. Its shirt is torn wide open by cuts; the frayed edges are laced with both dried and fresh blood. Shoving past Kabuto, it floats forward, gliding straight towards Sasuke.
Alarmed at the sudden motion, Sasuke finds himself backing away, but the man doesn't attack. Instead they place a scratched hand upon their soaked chest and bows low before him. "I am Orochimaru," he says in a scathing voice. Raising his face, he continues to advance. His impossible grin soaks into his yellow eyes. His lithe hand seizes Sasuke's shoulder, and his face presses close, a short breadth away. Sasuke swallows, involunatarily quivering as Orochimaru's rosey breath caresses his cheek. "Uchiha Sasuke," he hisses playfully. He lets the name roll of his tongue and his features quirk, as if relishing its taste. "I have come to take you."
Note:
What I regret most is the fact that Orochis description is so obvious--and so is his character. This story was actually never meant to be a fanfiction, but since I'm so bad at embodying my own characters, I had to cast some Naruto ones. Heheh...
So stay tuned! (Reviews would be welcome) Thank you for reading! x3