Illume:

I.

Sakura.

His fingertips and wrists were covered in burns. Ugly, rigid, pink scars. Yet his eyes were filled with such passion. Such delight. She felt her heart thrumming. He was captivating.

'

'

'

Sakura shoved the last of her stuff into the trunk of her beat up dark blue SUV.

Boxes and boxes filled with packaged memories and discarded dreams.

The morning was bright.

Puffs of fluffy clouds. Searing white against the cerulean sky.

Scintillating pinpoints of sunlight peeping through the cracks in the tunnels of trees on each side of the sidewalk.

The street was currently deserted.

Sans a young woman in her early twenties, messy strands of bubblegum pink hair piled up high in a bun. Bangs swooshing carelessly towards the right side of her forehead.

Little baby hairs kissing the back of her neck.

Choppy layered strands tickling her cheeks.

Incandescent verdant eyes narrowing in concentration.

Bottom lip being sucked in and chewed on viciously as she tried to juggle stuffing another box into the already jammed up trunk.

A light breeze blew past, ruffling the bottom of her too over-sized cream sweater that swallowed up her hands.

Bringing along the scent of sunscreen, wildflowers and recent musk.

She exhaled a sharp sigh of discontent.

Opting out of shoving it into her trunk, she tossed the box into the backseat.

Pulling her keys out of her dark stonewashed jeans' pocket, she twirled them between her index finger and thumb absentmindedly.

It had only taken a few hours to move out.

And it would only take a few more hours to move to Konoha and start her new career.

She had lived in Suna for as long as she could remember.

Growing up in a small two story house with her parents.

That was before her mother passed away and her father became mentally unstable.

It had been four years since she had put her father into an assisted living facility.

Her aunt Tsunade had taken her in - and as she started to build up her career, she hadn't had the time to visit her father. Who cried every time he saw Sakura. For she reminded him too much of her mother.

She pushed aside her negative thoughts as she shoved her keys into the ignition.

The radio blared something indecipherable. Classical.

Cool air blasted her face.

A trinket depicting a silver bow and arrow charm and a silver locket of a key dangled noisily from her central rear view mirror.

Two hours to go.

She put the gear in reverse and pulled away from the only home she had ever known. Leaving behind distant memories and many shed tears and the hopes of her father ever letting her back in.

'

'

'

Konoha was a quaint town on the border of the huge inner city.

It was surrounded by tall trees - many of them camphor.

Carrying the scent of recent rain, sandalwood and wood smoke.

Enclosed from behind by a large mountain.

Tall wooden borders that kept the villagers inside. Protected them from the harsh realities of city life.

It was beautiful.

With cobblestone streets.

Dust covering the grassier parts.

Sand coating in patches.

Her dark SUV drove down a particular bumpy path, trees creating pinpoints of flickering light across her windshield.

Of course her brother would pick the most annoying place to make her travel to.

It was secluded from the town. Located atop a rather hassling hill.

Brick and mellow green walled exterior.

Sliding shoji doors.

Covered in ivy.

Wicker railings.

Three step porch that led to the front door - decked with a slightly off hinged sign depicting 'Haruno Residence'.

Her brother Sasori had moved to Konoha after their mother's passing. He worked as a carpenter and crafted beautiful pieces of art out of wood.

She could see why he loved living here.

It was like living in a treehouse. Trees covered the perimeter of his land.

Shading the house.

It was like a hidden paradise.

Coy pond in the front yard once the trek to the top of the hill was accomplished.

She sighed as she effortlessly parked against the curb and unlatched her parking brake.

She sat in the comfort of the cushioned black seat for a few more minutes.

Inhaling slowly. Exhaling noisily.

Movement from the front bay window caught her attention.

His shaggy red hair covered head peeped from behind flowing white curtains - gray feathers stitched into the patterning.

His bright smile was all the invitation she needed to get out of her car.

'

'

'

"How's dad?" Sasori's voice called out from the depths of his kitchen. All marble counters and island centered in the middle. Kitchen clutter everywhere. Dishes filling the sink. Fridge filled with leftover pizza boxes and Chinese takeout.

"Sick." Was her hesitant response.

Sasori knew that Sakura had put their father into a care facility four years ago.

But he didn't know that she rarely visited him.

And even though Sasori visited him as much as he possibly could - her father never told Sasori that she barely came.

She knew it hurt him to even have her name leave his lips.

"Thank you, captain obvious. I haven't had the time to visit him lately so I was wondering if he had caught up to me." Sasori and her father were always discussing sports. Playing fantasy football. Discussing the Leaf's - infamous sports team they both supported - latest news.

"Doubtful." Sakura leaned her chin into the palm of her hand. Elbow digging into the upholstery of the white sofa decked with gray and black throw pillows.

"You're so sour. When does your new job start?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Good. Get out of the house and go get laid or something."

"That isn't something a brother should be saying to his little sister."

"Well, you're too uptight. Just go explore. Konoha is filled with many beautiful things."

She finished the rest of the coffee in the depths of her teal mug.

"Fine. But I'll be back with proper groceries. You need to start eating better." She called loudly before gathering her keys on the hook by the front door.

Sasori's chuckled resonated from somewhere else in his too large house.

'

'

'

Sakura was a medical journalist.

She had always had a passion for writing and medicine and science.

Decreed as a doctor, she had taken a long leave of absence from under the guidance of her aunt Tsunade (she was a world renowned doctor, whom she had apprenticed after) to move to Konoha.

She had found a job listing in a newspaper.

It was a requirement for a food photographer. To follow this famous chef of Konoha for a few months - cataloging recipes, taking tons and tons of pictures of his food until his grand opening night of his new restaurant. She would then be required to write a piece for the local Konoha Sun - large newspaper company that would launch his career even further.

She thought this would be a nice opportunity.

The chance to start anew.

Write something completely different from her line of expertise.

Plus she'd be able to photograph. That was a secret hobby of hers that she had acquired after her mother's passing.

Photography was her escape. A way to release stress.

And after burrowing herself in her career for the longest time - this was something that'd be able to get her mind off the stressful environment of the hospital she worked at for a little while.

Maybe even help her forget the troubles of her father until she figured out how to fix everything.

If that time ever came.

She had taken her brothers advice - sans getting laid - and explored the town.

It felt almost rustic.

Old but thriving with new life, new people, new buildings and things to try.

Her wandering had led her to streets filled with vendors.

After spending a good amount of time shopping there and collecting fresh food such as fruits and vegetables, chicken and other various foods her brothers refrigerator lacked - her footsteps halted in front of a building.

It was styled like a Tudor mansion - dark brown and cream paneling outside lined with stone and brick. Ivy creeped through the cracks in the stone and sidewalk. Twinkle white lights were strung from lamp post to lamp post and along the interior of the restaurant.

It vaguely reminded her of a garden.

Wicker furniture outside with soft velvety cushion. Iron tables with glass surfaces. Blue daises in vases - centerpieces of the table.

Windows encased the whole second story.

A large chalkboard out front depicted specials of the day.

The inside was completely different. Simply breathtaking. A large fountain in the middle that ran backwards with streams of clear, gray, and the unreal-est blue shades of water. Tables were iron clad with mahogany wooded chairs with sleek black cushioned in the middle of the restaurant around the fountain.

Booths surrounded the back corners, for more private dining.

It was clearly a restaurant.

Bustling people milling about. Large front counter where people could buy fresh baked pastries and fresh brewed beverages.

Black and white photos.

Bright vibrant flashes of pictures of food.

Large bushy potted plants poking from random corners.

It was like a fairy-tale coming alive.

A piano player for the weekends.

A front stage area for local bands to live cast their musical talents.

It was too huge.

There was even a bar on the second floor. And on the third it was marked private quarters.

It was like it's own huge apartment building.

Tucking strands of hair behind her ear she perched at a window table seat for two.

She stared down at the menu.

It was a hoshposh of variety. Serving everything from hand crafted pasta dishes and things she couldn't pronounce to a simple grilled cheese or cheeseburger and fries.

Her bright jade eyes flicker towards the front counter for an opening - all she really wanted to do was see if the job position was still open.

Standing, she left her tons of bags of groceries in the other seat and beneath the table, and made her way towards the back. Where the kitchen was located.

It indicated it was for employees only - but she didn't heed the warning as she pushed open the swinging door.

Complete chaos met her gaze.

People in chefs outfits and some in just simple tee shirts were bustling about, preparing dishes, sweat glistening off their skin.

A symphony of rigid dancing.

Steam whirling in the air with the scents of decadent food.

Her attention suddenly grabbed as her eyes rested on a man in the back corner.

Clearly the head chef. He had this huge corner that was almost like an office. Food cabinets surrounding him. Large counters and two ovens topped with pans and skillets sizzling and boiling.

She sucked in a huge breath as the man looked up and met her line of sight.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" His voice was all whispers of a faint Russian lilt, rugged and dark, a bit raspy perhaps from barking out orders. His mass of shoulder-length dark hair was shoved back with a dark bandanna. She could see markings of dark curls. However pieces stuck out at weird angles from the back when he turned his head to the side to grab another spice to dash into a pot of unknown creativity.

Dark circles lined the skin beneath his eyes.

A dark stubble lined chin.

White teeth showing from the now snarl curling his lip.

"Well. I came to apply for the food photographer position and service was not very efficient. You're the one who has to be answered to anyway, right? So I figured eh, why not."

His dark eyebrows rose in faint surprise, but he rolled his eyes.

"Are you any good at taking photographs?"

"Minor in photography."

"Hn. How educated are you?"

"Masters degree in science and medicine. Doctor. Medical journalist. I brought my resume with me and a portfolio of my artwork."

"Let me see it." He barked as he spat at a young man trying to ask what his sauce needed.

She stepped closer towards him until she could almost reach over the counter he was behind and poke his sweat drenched forehead.

The kitchen was smoldering.

His eyes were so dark and beautiful - deep pools of ink. Long eyelashes.

He took a moment to roll up his sleeves and she blinked.

Dark tattoos lined all over his wrists and up his arms. Slightly disturbed by all the scars and burns. She could see peeks of the black ink that tainted his skin sprouting from his chef jacket's collar along his neck.

His eyes glimpsed over a sketchbook filled with all the photographs she had done recently. She was an unusual photographer. She loved black and white. And the raw emotion of taking pictures of people in unexpected moments.

If he was impressed he didn't comment.

Instead he handed her back the sketchbook to take a glance over her resume.

He sighed.

"Come back after we close."

'

'

'

Night had fallen.

All starlight and bright moon lighting the dark blue sky.

She sat quietly in a corner booth of the restaurant.

She had learned was named 'Solas' - apparently he was Irish as well. Light. Interesting name for such a dimply lit place to eat.

Fiddling with her fingers, chipping at the crimson nail polish on her fingernails, her eyes were drawn as a figure approached her.

There he was.

The angry chef.

He had changed into a simply form fitting black tee-shirt and dark jeans. She couldn't help but to stare. He was ruggedly handsome. All dark and chiseled with muscle that wasn't on the border of being too much.

She could see the tattoo's on his arms - dark lines with swirling waves of a dark blue almost black. Words in some foreign langue danced across openings in the lines of his skin. Looking closer at his neck she could see the making of little black birds soaring down the line of his neck - birds that formed into leaves of what was probably a tree blossoming on one of his pectorals.

"You seem a bit over qualified to be inquiring about this job."

"Photography is my hidden passion."

"What about food?"

"I can cook. Not professionally. A girl that loves to eat."

"I have to say - " He took a pause as he sidled into the seat across from her. Folded his hands in front of him on the table. Knuckles white as he clenched his fingers together. Thin white scars lined the planes of his fingers. Callouses, "Your artwork is something. I'll need you to fill out some paperwork. The next few months will be vigorous. I have a tight schedule. You'll need to be here early every morning while I prep. Then I'll go through my routine with you. Let you take a few trial pieces of my food. The goal is for you to acquire breathtaking pictures of my food. Then to write about it. Sort of like a food critic. Money will be given on a bi-weekly basis. Any questions?"

She had plenty.

Was he always so brash in his manner of speaking?

Why did he have to be so stunning?

What time was early?

Just how long was she supposed to live here and help him?

"I'll need you to stay for at least two months. I'm opening a new restaurant in a few months and this article about my food and I will be the launching pad. Mornings start at six. And I'll need you to stay till I leave some nights - but other then that if you feel you put in a good days work, you can leave as you please."

"Understandable. I accept."

"Aa." He slid over a stack of paperwork. "Just fill these out and I'll see you in the morning." He rose from the booth and made his way towards the kitchen.

"What is your name, anyway?" She called to his retreating back.

"Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha. Let's hope this works out, Sakura Haruno."

She sighed, picking up a black pen on the surface of the table and started to complete the pile of paperwork.

'

'

'

Her feet ached as she dragged the piles of groceries into her brothers house.

His snoring came from a few feet away.

Socked feet hanging over the ledge. Arm draped across his face. Asleep as the large television screen blared some statistics of the Leaf's.

Shoving the plethora of bags onto the counter, she quickly went upstairs to the bedroom she'd be staying in.

Mellow blue-gray walls. Brown hardwood flooring.

Queen sized bed covered with dark lilac sheets and gray comforter with faint purple lilacs. Fluffy gray and white pillows. Shimmering square throw pillows. Flowing iron ivy like holder that hung above her bed, sporting about six white candles.

A simple brown chipped dresser in the corner. Standing tall. A nightstand beside her bed with a black alarm clock.

A large window that connected from the ceiling to the floor depicted the view of a tunnel of trees that surrounded his backyard. Cobblestone walkway leading to an area she couldn't see.

Spanning in the distance was the large mountain.

Fireflies danced below.

Starlight and dust streamed through the screening of her lifted windows. Sticking to the flowing gray curtains.

An ottoman was attached to the foot of her bed.

A small door led to her own bathroom and walk in closet. Though the closet was tiny and had a little rack for shoes and an overhanging bar for hangers.

Her brother had unpacked all her boxes and suitcases from her trunk. He had even set up her computer desk in a corner by the window.

Taking a quick and sweltering shower, she changed into black sweatpants and a plain red long-sleeved shirt.

She tucked away all the groceries into the appropriate bins in the fridge (Sasuke had seen all her foods and scorned her for letting perishables lay under a table. He took the groceries she had gotten and traded her for freshers ones that wouldn't die from not being refridgerated for a long period of time).

Patting her brothers cheek, she turned off the television and made her way upstairs to succumb to sleep.

'

'

'


Crappy beginning but I can see this turning into something so great.

Truly.

Sasuke as a chef. Already the ideas are flowing.

Decided to add another project while continuing with Ink and Pastels.

I hope you enjoyed(:

This will get better, haha.

I don't own Naruto.