Chapter Thirty-three: When a Red Rose Turns Black

It was a pair of lips, ghostly to her, touching Krystal's forehead that minutely disturbed her slumber in the dawning morning. She did not wake, but simply shifted a little, pulling down the sheet from covering her. A thin, lavender night-dress hugged her body.

The person lingering above her, making sure his action had not roused her, was none other than her husband of nine years, Uchiha Sasuke. A total of eleven had passed since the night he chose between taking her life and creating one for himself. Luckily, for the both of them, he had chosen the latter.

As he withdrew from hovering, his face was closed over by an ANBU mask copying the countenance of a feline with three commas, like his curse mark, on his right cheek. He was dressed in the traditional style of ANBU wear, including the padded armor and his kusanagi strapped to his back. A note was dropped onto the pillow where his head normally lay. Krystal moved. He proceeded in leaving the room.

The halls of the Uchiha Estate, through which he currently advanced, were easy to navigate in, not only with his acquired night vision, but also because the light of the breaking day shined nearly uninterrupted by paper sliding doors or windows. Unlike the years in which it had rested vacant, it was well looked after, much less dark than its history. He remembered when the Estate was more busy, when an entire clan with generations of ninja filled it . . . not simply three occupants.

"Daddy?" he heard, as if cued. The voice belonged to a young girl, eight-and-a-half years of age, with large eyes as black as his under girlish lashes; she looked a lot like he did when he was young, but there was one difference he was more than proud to admit: the Konoha hitaiate around her neck.

She was not the youngest kunoichi to have graduated Konoha's Ninja Academy, but she was younger than he had been.

Tardily, Sasuke turned slightly and lifted his mask away from his face, glancing at his daughter. Her hair was more ebony than night, parted on the right and draped over her forehead; it was cut short, for a girl, but on a boy, it would have been a "normal" length. It was mussed from rest.

"Hn." Sasuke smiled microscopically. He and Krystal had created an unbelievably cute, strong, Uchiha child, the first in restoring his clan. Only a small part wished for her to be a boy, someone to be an heir.

At least it meant he and Krystal could keep trying.

"Go back to bed," he directed quietly.

" But . . . where are you going?" she asked with little volume restraint. "Sometimes when you're wearing ANBU clothes, Mom's with you 'til you get to the Gates." Her eyes widened and she gasped. "YOU'RE SNEAKING OU—?"

Sasuke quickly covered her mouth and shushed her. He whispered fiercely, "I'm not sneaking out, you're mother knows perfectly well that I'm leaving! It's just a mission, not of vital importance." That was a lie. Not only the first two parts, but the third, as well. This was to be the greatest mission of his entire shinobi career—his very life. The simple thought tensed his muscles with excitement.

He could tell by the suspicious look she gave him that she knew it too.

"This is our little secret, okay? Don't tell Mom," he offered. When she still looked defiant, he added, "A ninja must know how to keep secrets. No matter what, don't let Mom know you know something. It's training! And I'll reward you if you succeed."

The little genin's eyes widened and sparkled. Training. . . .

Unfortunately, "Mom" had already been awoken. "I can't believe you're bartering with our daughter to lie to me! What the heck, Sasuke?" she exclaimed in a raised tone. "A note. A note? Could ya sink any lower?"

At the sound of his wife's accusations, Sasuke whipped around and made a face like a deer in the headlights. He shortly saved face, releasing his daughter and maintaining a semi-stoic regime. "I could've not left a note."

Krystal was not amused. Her arms crossed from her hips. "Ao, bed. Just—leave your father and me alone for a moment."

Ao trotted out of the hall, but remained close by. She hid behind one of the sliding doors, kept it open a crack, and peeked through. She could see faint shadows of her parents. Krystal's seemed to moved closer to Sasuke. Her ears strained to hear the embarked fierce whispers.

"I didn't want to worry you."

"And you think I'm not going to NOW? I thought you were done leaving like this . . . done lying to me—doing crap like this behind my back. What was so important, so secretive . . . that you couldn't trust me? What type of mission?" That had been her mother's response. The volume of her voice was at more of a stage whisper that carried.

Then her father replied, keeping his voice low and solemn. It carried, however, without wisps and therefore sounded almost like a normal conversational voice to Ao's ears. He said three words: "Tracking . . . and assassination."

"You've had those before . . . and told me. Why—"

"Itachi," he interrupted. "The man I have to track down, and kill, is him. I didn't want you to dissuade me. Naruto pulled some strings."

Itachi . . . ? Ao wondered. The name had been seldom heard and never explained. It seemed to hold great weight, for there was a heavy silence the befell the spouses.

"I see. So then it's not even like he sprung it on you and you had to accept the Hokage's order like a good little shinobi. You had him 'pull some strings.' Nice, Sasuke. Real nice. Ugh, that idiot!" Krystal formed fists that fell to level with her hips and she turned her head toward the outside, her mouth twisting in contempt. Presently, it did not matter that he was her superior or practically her brother—the blonde would pay.

Calmly, the man approached the woman, gently sliding his hands down her arms until he reached her fists. He opened them with ease, as her muscles had turned less tense with the descent of his hands, and he coerced her into standing closer. The fingers on one of his hands interlaced with hers, and the other hand proceeded stroking her right arm. He felt goose bumps popping up along her skin under his fingertips. Goose bumps on his wife were the rubble from the crumbling of her resistance.

"C'mon, babe . . . he is an idiot, but don't let it affect us; let's not fight," he crooned in her ear.

Despite the exponentially multiplying goose bumps, she attacked, "Except it was his idiocy that aided you in yours!" Her free hand went to his elbow vertical to hers. She pulled his left hand away, then pushed to stop his strokes. In this, she recovered a bit and quickly holstered him a distance from her. Their eyes met. "This isn't the time to be exploring my spots!"

The playfulness in his gaze left, turning totally somber. Ao rarely saw this, but Krystal knew it well; as did a collection of shinobi of their generation and a few from the one preceding. His eyes were full of ambition. "What do you want from me? I'm not turning down this one."

She sighed, deeply. "We both know I don't have what it takes to hold you back, and this is something you've wanted for nineteen years. I'm not thrilled about it, though. . . . How long will it be?"

"I don't know. It depends on how cunning he is, and on the verity in the lead."

". . . I see." Hesitantly, she loosened her hindering grip on him and pulled him into her arms, squeezing him around the waist. He also held her tight, and kissed her forehead. They stood like that, moving very little and gradually holding tighter, for a few minutes, saying nothing.

Quietly, Ao slid out from behind the doors, thinking that it was safe to come forward since the shadows had converged and no sound was coming her way. She crept toward the hall, cautiously silent. Soon, she reached a vantage point from which she had a visual of her parents: she saw the unfortunate image of them kissing. The young girl wrinkled her nose and muttered, "Ew, gross, get a room."

"We had a perfectly private hallway until you showed up," Krystal said once interrupted, turning her head to Ao with a smile. The little one turned bashful and the adults reluctantly released one another. "Come say bye-bye to Daddy . . . he's gonna be on a mission for a while. Don't know how long it'll be 'til he gets back."

Ao nodded and closed the distance between her and Sasuke quickly. She met with him when he went down on one knee, so he was closer to her level. Her small frame held more strength than met the eye, so he felt more pressure in her squeeze; it made him smile.

"Bye-bye Daddy . . . I'll miss you," she said as he hugged her back. "Come back soon."

"Yeah," he responded, letting her loose.

She was also letting him go, but kept one hand on his shoulder. He met her eyes curiously when she did not let go. With all solemnity the child could muster, she held out her pinky and demanded, "Pinky swear you'll come back soon . . . and safe."

While Krystal hid a smile behind her hand and laughed, Sasuke looked blankly at te small tendon erected toward him. In minimal ways, Ao was her mother's daughter.

Which meant she could be angered just as easily.

If he made this promise, he would have to keep it.

Children hold grudges over even the most trivial of things, after all. What father would want to lose his daughter's trust? She would likely hate him—forever.

"Ao . . . I don't think Daddy can—"

Before Krystal could finish her sentence, Sasuke linked pinkies with Ao. "I'll come back. Alive. I swear."

Days passed, which soon turned to weeks, until two months went by with little word from the fleet tracking Uchiha Itachi. It seemed to drag by slowly, in-between news, and it was always the same: no luck, following new lead.

Ao was having no trouble, as far as deftness, in keeping up with her teammates. They were not quite full of enthusiasm at the prospect of having a female ninja half their age outstanding them. She was at times harassed, but once they were schooled in "the power of youth" by a graduate one-year their parents' senior, she was more or less tolerated.

Krystal monitored the activity of her students in the field at the Academy, presently watching them run laps. Long ago, with Sasuke and Naruto, she had earned the right to wear a chuunin vest over a red three-quarter-sleeved top, allowing for her to take the exam to become a teacher. She also wore black capris and summery ninja sandals.

"Couple more laps, you guys, you can do it," she encouraged from the sidelines. Her students were around nine in age, enduring their third year of lessons. Most of the students were clustered together, some trailed behind, and even fewer were ahead.

As she stood there, she would periodically pull at the collar of her shirt, drawing it away from her skin to fan herself. It had come to her attention that she was the only one feeling uncomfortable in this fashion, as the weather was actually quite cool.

A small timer set on a post nearby rang violently. It took her attention from the heat only she seemed to feel and her students while she walked to it and used her hand to hinder the bells. Her students were already heading inside, and she followed behind the mass. "Don't forget: tomorrow we learn the basics of The Escape Jutsu. Might want to read up on it tonight," she advised. Though most of you won't.

Fatigued, the woman sat comfortably in her chair with a sigh, resting her eyes whilst listening to the children leave with their possessions. She tried taking a few moments to relax . . . until she had to scramble to the nearest wastebasket and vomit. She wiped her mouth with a tissue from a box on her desk, and threw it away. She sighed again. These occurrences, like the hot flashes, had been frequent, as well.

Leaning back into her seat, one of her hands went to her belly as she absently stared into space. As she rubbed, pondering certain events, that hand went a little lower, until she reached the outside of where her uterus was placed, and stopped. Her expression marked skepticism, as she dipped her glance from space, to her chest, the wastebasket, her abdomen, and back to space again.

"Oh no. No no no no no no no. . . . Crap," muttered the teacher under her breath. Not for long did she dwell in the room, for she had nothing to take and only the door and windows to close.

One the while, one of the most respected Konoha shinobi, formerly the most ostracized, sat behind his desk receiving terrible news. Sixth Hokage Uzumaki Naruto could not keep the horror from his eyes as a feline ANBU mask, kusanagi, and a silver-chained necklace with a small rose pendant was placed in front of him by a somber, bird-masked operative.

Naruto swallowed. "Sasuke's . . .?"

The ANBU nodded. "We believe he is deceased. No body, however, was found. We were separated—most of us, trapped—and when we were released, these items were found near the corpse of Uchiha Itachi, along with enough blood for us to assume death of both Uchiha. Further search proved fruitless as we scoured the area to be more confident in our diagnosis. The body of Uchiha Itachi was incinerated on the spot, in order to hide shinobi secrets."

Naruto was still incredulous as he looked from the ANBU to the items in front of him. He cursed in astonishment. "I can't believe it . . . Sasuke's gone—with no way of bringing him back, this time. I have to tell Krystal-chan!" he also noted worriedly.

The ANBU did not comment.

"Dismissed," said the Hokage, and the ANBU left.

For minutes after the departure, Naruto's mind also left, lost in reveries and conjectures. Shadows crept over his eyes when looking at the items before him. Over the years, his observation skills had improved, when not tested against social situations.

Few scratches adorned the mask, suggesting that it had been thrown aside toward the beginning of the epic battle that must have taken place, possibly when Sasuke revealed his identity to Itachi. He could imagine Sasuke's fury behind the mask, the pent up, vengeful rage that had been simmering for far too long to be healthy. There must have also been a sick, minor glee from the discovery.

Then his eyes went to the kusanagi. He stood, picked it up, and slowly, carefully, drew the blade from its sheath. This item also told a part of the story, as well. The blade was slightly charred from being used in conjunction with lightning—perhaps the actual element, not a chakra copy, but he was unsure of that. Blood had been rinsed from it, but the smell was strong enough to make his nostrils flare and for a metallic taste to settle in the back of his mouth. Maybe this weapon presented the final blow.

The sword was replaced into its sheath and back onto the desk, to which Naruto picked up the necklace, the final item of Sasuke's that had been excavated. It was a pretty subject, certainly not new, but it was tainted. Stubborn bits of blood had dried and inserted themselves into the tiny impressions of the chain, at some points.

(Curiously, he wondered if this in fact was Sasuke's; his late best friend had not seemed the type to wear such feminine jewelry, particularly with a rose for a pendant.)

Alas, the rose. It occurred to him that Krystal had a piece just like this, and she very easily could have had her husband wear it while they were away from each other. A closer look made him realize a single difference, however. This rose, was not red. It appeared black. As if the color was not ominous enough, the reason why it was so made him shiver. He could see that the original color of the stone was of a carmine nature, but a crack allowed blood to seep in. Dry blood was to be preserved in the rose.

Suddenly, he was reminded of a line someone had dropped at one time on one of his missions over the years. It was a woman, who would later perish on that very assignment, whom had sighed when she saw a rose of ominous color. He did not know if she had been speaking to him, to herself, to noone, or to anyone who would listen, but she had commented sadly, "When a red rose turns black, cry and sigh, for your love's not coming back."

Letting the hand holding the necklace fall to his side, he picked up the mask and sword. He had stalled long enough. He would have to find Krystal, and tell her. Giving bleak news such as this was hard enough when he had no personal connection to the family or the shinobi. He dreaded ones where it was one or the other. How was he to break the news to a woman whom he considered his sister, to whose daughter he was a godfather or uncle, about a man to whom he felt brotherhood?

He sighed and began to leave the office. It had to be done.

Krystal fell to the ground as sobs ripped through her chest. A single look, plus the items Naruto held, that brought the kunoichi to her knees; a look that told her everything. Sasuke, her beloved, invincible, idiot of a husband, was dead. Gone. He was gone, again. Forever. Gone. He had left her behind, again.

"NO!" she screamed. "Not Sasuke! Why him? Why my husband?" She sank lower, and lower, until she had her forehead against the hospital tile and one hand clenched in a fist, pounding the floor; the other hand clutched her chest. The tears from her hysterics flooded from her eyes, her shoulders trembled, and in her despair, her face also turned red with hostility. "I'll kill Itachi! I'll murder the bastard myself!"

Naruto tossed aside the items onto the hospital bed and quickly dropped to her level on one knee. His hands caught her shoulders and he spoke audibly over her loud wails. He was thankful that this time, he did not have to worry about her scratching her nails to injury. He was wary of the sharp objects in the room, however, their kunai pouches, and shurikon holsters.

"You can't do that . . . Itachi's dead, too, believe it." He explained what the ANBU had told him, during which Krystal's cries lowered themselves to whimpers. Her heart wanted to reject the news, recoil the story, pain wanted to spring it back to fearful possibility, expel it from nightmarish reality.

"He has to come back," she sobbed, "he has to. He always does, don't tell me. . . . God, please don't let it be true. . . . Please. . . . I waited so long . . . for him—ngh!"

As the Hokage watched the grown woman before him, a lump pressed against his Adam's apple, and he had to look away, closing his eyes. Yet even with the sight of her gone, the pained sobs encased his ears and reformed the picture on the inside of his eyelids. "I'm sorry, Krystal-chan," he said in a cracked voice.

Only the uncontrolled breathing, snivels, and sobs were emanated from her as she clung to him. Her hands held on parts of his orange coat tightly, folding parts of the black kanji for "fire" on the back. The sleeves of that coat were short, so the arms that wrapped around her snugly, yet gently, were covered in black to the wrist. His neck to his hips were also covered by that shirt in the color, shown because the coat with black, fiery trim opened to present it. Black capris loosely tucked into bandages that went to his black zori.

"I need him," she said silently. "I can't do it alone. . . . Not raise Ao-chan, train her sharingan, if she gets it . . . I can't do it. I love him—I'll miss him too much. . . ." Her left hand slid from his back to her pelvis. "And this . . . I can't handle . . . this!"

"You're not alone, you have Hinata, Ao-chan, and me. Zaki and Eyebrows-sensei, too. It's not over . . . believe it."

A funeral was held, though there was no body to bury. Service was held near the Hero's Memorial Stone, where all the names of ninja whom were killed in action were forever inscribed. Sasuke's was the latest to have been added, as would have Itachi's, if he had not become rogue.

The heavens showed grey sorrow, but did not weep with pitying rains. The morning dew lingered for extra hours, like glimmering tears on every blade of grass, leaf of a plant, and petal of a blossom. They reflected moisture collected in Ao's eyes as she stood near the stone with Krystal; both of them were dressed in black. Tracks of a few stray tears marked her cheeks.

The child held onto the hand of her mother, who carried a bouquet of vibrant red roses and white carnations. Her face was anything but, ghostly pale as she gazed at the stone. More precisely, she stared at the freshly carved name. The wells of her eyes were dried up, bringing the only color of her face around them.

Despair further twisted her expression.

Ao looked up at her mother, fearful concern written all over her physiognomy. Voice tremulous, she called to her inquisitively, tugging on that hand. Seeing that stricken visage made her heart ache. "M-mommy? D . . . don't cry, Mommy. . . . It's going to be . . . okay," her voice cracked.

Krystal glanced at her daughter, staring at those big black eyes. They were so like her late husband's, in color and shape, yet so different in lack of shadows, bright with unsullied, childish naivete. So naive, that she probably fooled herself into thinking she believed her own words. Krystal knew it was an empty supplication, simply an optimistic line offered to incite strength.

Eyes still expressing hurt, a corner of her mouth curved in the tiniest smile possible. She released Ao's hand and placed hers on the curve of the posterior of her daughter's head. Her thumb gently stroked her hair. Sweet kid.

With that, she withdrew her hand to hug the bouquet to herself, staring at the stone once more. Calmly, she took a few steps closer, and gave his name one last, longing look, before setting down the roses and carnations next to it. Her palms kissed in silent prayer.

While she waited for her mother to finish her private meeting with God, Ao looked around, seeing a wild bed of flowers on the opposite side of the memorial. They were such beautiful, lively, lush blossoms for bordering such a depressing, respectful monument. Flowers in hues from yellow, to pink, to fuchsia, to blue, and many other colors had risen amongst the blades of tall grass. One particular flower she recognized as Ninja Wolfsbane.

But then there was another one that caught her eye; a bloom unique to the others in that it was her favorite. She smiled and trotted over to the bed as Krystal finished her prayer. The higher-ranking kunoichi quirked a quizzical brow and asked, "What are you doing?"

When the girl was coming back, a grin where one tooth was missing still adorned her face, and she hid what she carried from Krystal's view. Until she reached the front of the stone, that is. As she drew away from the stone, it was shown that a single violet, colored blue, was laid on top of the bouquet.

Krystal returned Ao's smile with one of small amusement as she again placed her hand on top of the little one's head and silently guided her away from the stone. The other hand went to her pelvis. Under her palms were the remnants of the Uchiha Clan, Sasuke's legacy.

Epilogue

A young couple strolled in the afternoon sun, crossing the Tenchi Bridge in the Grass Country that extended high over a wide ravine. The woman hugged his arm and affectionately leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Her boyfriend, a ninja from the country's hidden village, had his hands in his pockets, gently guiding her along with his eased strides. A smile was on his face.

As they left the bridge onto the ravine, they crossed into much shrub and forestry. The occasional critter sound was heard. In the warm light, it was very becoming, the ambience of the scene. The woman fluttered open her eyes and lifted her head, deciding to take in the area. As she took a gander to the side, where foliage was lush and trees provided shade, her face turned from a lover's bliss to wonderment as she saw what appeared to be human legs.

"Kuo . . . what is that?" she inquired with a note of fear, pointing.

His expression turned serious as he slid himself from her hold and motioned her to stay put. Carefully, he approached the body. His girlfriend waited nervously as he disappeared behind a bush to examine.

It was a man, skin a sickened, ashen white. A trail of blood lead to him from somewhere else, seemingly from a far distance. Quite a bit pooled around him; Kuo was careful not to get any on him. There were many rips in the man's clothing, and a few burns where skin was visible. Blood drenched his clothes—probably not only his own—which consisted of what looked to be a Konoha ANBU Black Ops uniform.

Kuo placed two fingers underneath the man's chin, searching for any color at all in his countenance. Long stygian bangs parted to frame the sides of his face, and he was not sure if it was simply mussed from being laid upon, but the back appeared to spike out, similar to a cockatoo.

Next, he glided his hand over to the shinobi's eyes. He pried open his eyelids, to meet with a startling sight: the irises were colored red, with three comma-like markings circled around the pupil.

Warily, he let the lid close over what he assumed to be some sort of doujutsu, and placed two fingers on the jugular vein, searching for a pulse. It was very faint, but it was there. "Chichi! We have to get him to a village, quick!" he called, standing into her view. She looked bewildered. "He's alive, but just barely."

She nodded and stepped forward to provide aide.

Aki's Author Corner

And so .:Roses are Red:. has come to an end . . . but fear not, my readers, for a sequel is to come! Look out for .:Violets are Blue:., which is to be coming soon. It's quite amazing, really. I've been working on this story for such a long time, including the original and this rewrite. I'm so excited! Yet at the same time saddened . . . but since I have big ideas for the sequel, that lament is eclipsed by feelings of joy and jubilance!

This story was to simply start out as a one-shot, then it turned to a mini-series, which I planned to last simply five chapters. Soon, it evolved into this! A thirty-three part fanfiction, of which I am very proud of :D And this thirty-three part fanfiction is to turn into more, as well, when .:Violets are Blue:. has made its appearance.

I'd like to thank all of my readers that have stayed faithful to this milestone, and the reviewers whom have given me their compliments-or criticism. I also give many, many thanks to my beta reader, Ace, for helping me to mold this story to what it is :D

Also, a new one-shot has been added, titled The Sweeter the Kiss, it's a MaboroshiXHayden side story to this, so I suggest you read it :)

Well, I'm not sure what else to say... it's not completely over, so I shall see you soon :)

(Edited as of January 20th 2012; note: Violets are Blue has been discontinued, but I do hope to revamp it soon.)