Chapter Twenty-Six: A Lover and his Pawn
Warning: Erotica and Morbid Humour. I don't give out warnings, but I believe a first and last one is warranted on this front. It's up to you to figure out as to which instances fall under the category of 'morbid sexual humour (which is fairly tame for now)' and which ones don't. This chapter has one such example.
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Cool drops quivered on his face, his cheeks blushing from the chill nipping at his skin. He palmed his face and kept his eyes downcast and avoided his older brother's persistent gaze. A sigh came out as a thick fog from Itachi's mouth, and he finally spoke, unwilling to prolong the silence between them any longer: "are you still angry with me?"
"Why does it matter what I think? You do as you please," Sasuke retorted and flexed his neck. He was still staring down at his sandals, and his cheeks tightened in disdain. The scroll was lost, burnt by his own brother. Everything he had worked for . . . was lost.
Itachi took one step and moved the branches, dotted with cool raindrops, out of his way. His eyes had a hint of worry, his face calm that defiantly kept the emotions from crossing the verges of his control.
"Were you really content with chasing a Missing-Nin without authorization? You know we have the inquiry hanging above our heads. The matter is still not in the past. Must you be an obdurate child with a Team under your command?" Itachi asked, his voice calm, but it was failing to mollify his brother's passions this time.
Sasuke raised his gaze, meeting Itachi's eyes, steeped in an emotion that shocked his older brother—was it hatred? "Did you bring me here to mock me?" Sasuke asked and a sudden bitterness came into his face, but it left just as quickly.
"Of course not. I am simply exhorting you to be vigilant. Chasing after Missing-Nins without thinking, taking that Mizukage's tasks on a whim . . . people in Root are starting to whisper. They can start an inquiry into this matter if they desire, and I will not be able to stop them. The only one I can stop, is you," Itachi reasoned and watched a flicker of anger race across his brother's face.
"I wasn't doing it on a whim. Don't insult my intelligence," he hissed, his voice thick and angry.
Itachi slightly tilted his head to the left, his face inquisitive, his left hand twisting the hilt of the long kunai in his hand. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked, and his eyes roved on his brother's face.
"Why?" Sasuke said in a mocking voice and gave a small laugh, "you've won. Isn't that what you always wanted—to humiliate me and prove yourself right? Well, congratulations. This wouldn't be the last time you put so much effort into cutting my paths. I'm sure you're proud of yourself." He wore a contemptuous smile on his face. His tone, his expression, his whole demeanour shocked Itachi. He had never talked to him this way before.
Itachi's eyes widened momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure. "Is that what you think—that I cut your paths, and put so much effort in disgracing you? You seem to soak yourself in your own world, unable to see reason from my eyes that I do everything for you. How can you be so . . . oblivious to everything?" he asked, his voice not able to hide the small undercurrent of worry this time, but it was not enough to cool the fires blazing just beneath Sasuke's skin.
"Oblivious?" Sasuke asked, his voice rising, his face contorting with anger. "How dare you! You treat me like things in your games. You thwart my paths whenever it pleases you, never caring for a second how I feel about it. Then you give yourself the liberty to accuse me?" Sasuke raised his hand to his face and brought his thumb and forefinger close. "I was this close—this close, but you went ahead and destroyed everything. You had no right. You never had any right to do what you did. You just did it to please yourself."
"Sasuke, what is—"
"I'm not going to listen to you anymore," Sasuke cut him off, his face marked red by fury, "if I don't find any lead soon, I swear, I'll never forgive you." He looked into his brother's eyes resolutely, letting him feel the rage in them. Then he turned around and walked at a quick pace out of the clearing. He passed by Naruto who had just dragged out a ninja from behind the bushes.
"Sasuke, I caught him! Where are you going?" Naruto asked and tried to still the ninja struggling in his grasp. He turned his puzzled face to Itachi whose eyes were staring at the empty space before him. His mask had been thrown away, and he was not aware of this vulnerability.
"Hey, Sasuke—" Naruto called out from behind, but Sasuke disappeared behind the trees.
"Let him go. Just let him cool off a bit," Itachi sighed and closed his eyes. He put the long kunai back into the sheath and looked at Naruto. "I suppose you cleared the task. You can resume your Chūnin duties from tomorrow."
"Thanks," Naruto said in confusion, his blue eyes unable to fathom the intensity in Itachi's face. He looked very angry all of a sudden. "What about my Jōnin application?"
"Talk to your Captain about it. He will arrange the dates. Loosen your grip," he said in a heavy, commanding voice.
Naruto obliged. The prisoner slipped from his hand. Naruto blinked and saw the prisoner's head fly into the air: his blood floated before his blue eyes enveloped by a strong wave of shock. He stared beyond the spotty, rosy veil at the drawn sword in Itachi's hand—his passions un-obscured in his red eyes.
"What the . . . hell?" The breathy voice tumbled up to his throat, his boyish face in the grip of shock and fear as he looked at the head lying close to his sandals, touching his left toe. He pulled his foot back when he felt the gob of saliva, hanging from the prisoner's lips, on tip of his toe, looking repulsed. He jerked his head up and watched Itachi as he wiped the blood from the sword on his pants, looking remorseless and cold. Itachi's lips twitched very slightly at the corners, with a hint of loathing as though the man disgusted his sensibilities even in death.
Itachi paid Naruto no heed, his face hard, chiselled out of the coldest of marbles. He bent his head down and let out a breath of fire. It engulfed the dead man and turned him into a charred, black body within two seconds. He did not stick around and flashed out of the forest the next moment, leaving Naruto alone in the clearing.
His blue eyes, still under the shadow of fear, looked down at the ashes flying up into the air from the body. The wind was carrying them away. He kept looking at it, and not sure why, felt a tear squeeze out of his eye. His heart was too kind, too soft; his lips trembled with sadness and the realization that Itachi had taken out his anger on the prisoner . . .
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"You have to quit your post, Hinata. You don't understand what's at stake here?" Hiashi pleaded before Hinata, standing in the shafts of light tempered by the paper-screen window.
Hinata raised her gaze—there was a touch of defiance in her eyes. She pressed her hand to her breast and her heart tripped, nervous of her new found resolve. "I-I can't quit my post, Otō-Sama. I won't quit my post. You ask so much of me," she said, her voice small with emotion.
"You're disobeying your father? When did you become so insolent?" Hiashi said in a raised voice, his fingers clenched as though he meant to hit her.
"I've never disobeyed you. I've done whatever you've ever asked of me. Can't I have this small amount of freedom? I didn't say I won't give you an heir," she lied, her face trembling. It did not matter. All she needed was a bit of strength, and then she would leave her clan . . . and go away from this place. "But y-you can't lock me up like this. I'm a human. Have you ever thought of me as one? Have you ever . . . cared about me? This is the first time you've come here after my marriage." She closed her eyes, and her lips shuddered. She hated this weakness, but she steeled herself and looked him in the eye and saw remorse.
Her words had broken him. He stood erect, breathing heavily as if something was burdening his back, trying to bend it against his will. "You don't know how much I have sacrificed for this clan's sake—my dignity, my honour, and—" he stopped, chewed up the word he wanted to say, and swallowed it down, "you have to understand that, without an heir, Namikaze Clan is lost. And if they are lost, we are lost. You don't even realize this." He turned his head away, feeling ashamed of his daughter's newfound defiance.
"You didn't have to stop. You've sacrificed me, too, haven't you? You don't have to hide. I was always the pathetic, weak one. And I don't blame you. I wish I was stronger. But I can't do things because you want me to. You want an heir, and you will get it . . . a-after I recover," she lied again, and this time, she held her gaze. Her fingers clenched into fists. She was not going to let him bully her again.
Hiashi opened his mouth to speak but a knock came upon the door. "Come in," Hinata said and touched her lips with her fingers to catch her gasp when the door opened: Sasuke stepped into the house, moving his eyes from Hiashi to Hinata.
"If I'm interrupting something, I can come back later," he said and looked at Hiashi.
Hiashi shook his head. "No, it is all right. I was just leaving," he said and turned his eyes to Hinata. "We will discuss this matter some other time." Then he left the house, closing the door behind him.
Sasuke kept looking at the door, his eyes narrowed as though he was lost in thought. He finally turned around and put the scroll on the table, his eyes meeting hers with a sudden wild intensity. "I've approved your request. You'll have to induct yourself into the trials next week. Train with Yuu and see how it goes."
"T-Thank you," she stuttered and lowered her eyes. The desire she felt for him came back with full force. She raised her gaze slightly to look at the smile playing about his lips, and her heart writhed and convulsed with desire. She had not seen him for a week. Her body could feel the heat rise from him—a palpable warm aura sliding against her. It felt so delicious to stand so close to him and let that needy part of her scrape at her walls, mad with lust.
"That's not the only thing I came here for," he paused and took out another scroll from his pocket, "there is an inconsistency between the dates your father gave me."
"What?" she asked through the haze of her thoughts.
"The date your father gave me? It doesn't match the date when the eyes were relinquished. You know, when the eyes are taken out like that, it leaves a trace of chakra behind, don't you?" he asked and drew close.
She nodded, her gaze bent on his face. He looked calm, serene, and a little playful. "Well, Nii-Sama's asked for an investigation into the matter. You understand, right?" he asked again, drawing closer still. "I want you to look into the matter. Your father doesn't even have to know." He smiled and his eyes glinted with a new playfulness she had never seen before.
"But—" Hinata fell silent and took the scroll from his hand. She unrolled it a little and looked at the Anbu Captain seal at the corner with another odd symbol she had never seen before. She rolled it back up again and clutched it tightly.
"Your father might not want the investigation, and Neji could get involved. I don't think it's necessary for the matter to escalate. It's better if you simply look into this and search for a few scrolls that might carry the symbol I showed you. Let's bury this matter. I don't want this to become an issue. I'm sure you'll agree," he said and created an innocent smile on his face.
"I—I agree," Hinata said and an innocent desire came up in her face and flushed the white cheeks with a vivid pink. She put the scroll on the table by the entrance door, her eyes not leaving his, enchanted by this new side of him. He was so different from the time he attacked her. Itachi was right: he did not have to know.
Hinata let out a burdened sigh and approached him. She stretched her hand and placed it against his cheek. He bit into his lower lip in a manner naughty children do, and her warm expression made a seductive smile appear on his face, his eyes red and feral. "Naruto will come here to get his things any minute now. I don't think it's the right time to play," he teased and lowered his eyes to her shaking fingers as she pulled down the zip of his jacket. She was still not used to this intimacy.
Sasuke gave a soft laugh and grabbed her trembling wrist. He bent down his head and clamped his mouth over hers and felt her hasty tongue push into his mouth. Well, if that's what she wants . . . he thought in amusement. He grasped her thighs, lifted her up with ease, and settled her down on the table—her legs squeezed his hips.
Sasuke reached down and pulled at his zipper. Pushing her underwear aside, he created a little room for himself to enter her. He pressed the slick tip against her wet entrance and slipped inside in one smooth stroke. She let out a little sound and arched her back reflexively. Clasping her legs tightly around his hips, she kissed his jaw and nape, his skin hot under the touch of her lips. He moved in and out of her at a hard pace. The table banged against the wall, and a cup fell onto the floor with a loud crash. His warm breaths were harsh and ragged against her ear.
Hinata did not want him to stop. She did not want him to pull away. Her walls contracted against his flesh painfully, and he dug his fingers into her inner thighs, wedging her legs further apart as he drove into her harder and faster and at a more frenzied pace. She panted against him, lips pressed to his warm neck slick with sweat. His hair, stuck to the side of his jaw, smelt musky.
She twisted her neck and sucked on his lower lip that shuddered with arousal between her lips. He responded eagerly, twisting his tongue around hers, relishing the warmth of her sheath. It did not matter to him: she provided a good distraction. He broke the kiss suddenly, his eyes red. Then he pulled out quickly with a jerky movement and zipped up his pants.
Hinata ached between her legs, but she smoothed down her kimono. Her heated eyes watched him button up his shirt and pull the Jacket's zip up to his throat to hide the red marks on his nape. He stood calmly against the wall, and the next moment, the door opened and Naruto stepped in. His eyes widened in surprise. "Sasuke, you left so suddenly—I," he broke off, and his face split into a wide grin, "I cleared the mission."
A warm smile formed on Sasuke's face. He stretched his arm and slapped on Naruto's back. "Didn't I tell you it would be easy for you? But you always doubt yourself," he said with warmth in his voice.
Hinata's mouth twisted down. Sasuke . . . he cared for Naruto. She could not say she liked this side of him. She sat silently on the table, feeling the delightful moist wash of their arousal drying out between her thighs in the dry heat of the room.
"You promised you'll treat me to sake and ramen for a whole week," Naruto said with a broad smile and threw his arm around Sasuke's shoulders.
"A promise is a promise. Come on, let's go. We'll talk about your Jōnin application, too," Sasuke said and walked through the door without sparing her a moment's glance.
Naruto stuck his head in and twisted his neck to look at her. "I'll come by in the evening to collect my things. Just put them outside the door. I don't want to disturb you," he said, grinning from ear to ear . . . and then he left.
Their voices floated to her for a few moments, and then she could hear nothing other than the shushing sounds of the tall grass outside. Her gaze wandered slightly to the right. The scroll . . . it had fallen off the table. She leant back against the wall and took a long intake of breath. She would get the scroll. If that was what it took to pull away from her family, then so be it . . .
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Itachi sat down and turned the stamp in his hand. He closed his eyes and let out a breathy sigh. Sasuke's chakra lingered on it a bit. He had put his own upon it to make sure he would know if someone used his Anbu Seal without his permission. The darkness stood like sentinels around him, guarding his face. His whole body shuddered with fear this time. If Sasuke slipped, he would be caught for treason against Root, and killed . . .
He felt a knot of great pain in his heart, and it madly thudded as though a dying, snared animal, pitifully wriggling to get out of fate's pitiless trap. His cool facade was gone, his face an exquisite mask of sorrow and fear. Sasuke was lashing out; he was testing him the way he always did when he was angry. He closed his eyes, and his breaths and heart gentled, his mind racing. Could he beat his brother at his own game?
Who had he used the seal for? He placed his hand over his eyes, his fingers digging into his temples. He never really knew the whole affair, even in the past. How much did Sasuke hide from him about the Tulip Squad? The questions abraded the finely crafted landscape of his mind and powered through his calm. It shattered, hard raking waves crashing themselves upon it without a heart, without a pity.
He pressed his thumb to his dry lips. Someone was leaking out the information from Sasuke's team. He turned his red eyes to the door. Beyond the garden, stood Sakura, her chakra a meagre quantity compared to his own—so miserably weak, so pitifully fragile that he could snuff it out entirely with a tiny trickle of his own with such ease that it almost amused him. But the seal on her forehead held tons more. His mind kept coming back to her. He had cast his net. Now all he had to do was wait for this proverbial pink moth to scorch itself upon the flame.
Itachi stood up, grabbed his sword from the table, and pushed it into the sheath on his back; his mind came back to a web of memories and the spider that sat waiting upon its core . . . waiting. It had to be her. The thought pierced the wall of vengeance, and a spurt of red gushed out, drowning his conscience. He stepped out, walked through the garden, and stopped close to her; then his eyes appraised her life and what little worth she had.
Her cheeks burnt under his gaze before she spoke: "I brought along the supplies you asked of me, Itachi-Sama. Are we ready to leave?" Her eyes bounced around, avoiding his gaze.
He measured her worth, and his mind formed a perfect reason: if it was between anyone and his beloved brother, then they had no worth—troubles always needed to be weeded out . . .
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