Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Rated PG-13 for: Violence, adult language, adult situations, and suggestive content. Rating is expecting to rise in further installments.
* * * * * *
Itachi sat in the kitchen, silently eating cold chicken that had been found in the refrigerator. He placidly watched as Tora bustled around the cooking area, frying fish and mixing spices and all around multitasking as she made a- though Itachi wouldn't admit it aloud- savory smelling meal. The vicious curiosity pulled at Itachi's mind as the girl silently simmered the rice and diced the carrots.
"In God's name, what are you making?" growled Itachi, not bothering to hide his annoyance and anger. The smell of cooking reminded him of his mother, and that was someone he hated to the point of insanity. Tora didn't even face him as she answered.
"Tiger's secret spiced fish with vegetables- with a special sauce passed through my clan, I have to add- over white rice and teriyaki chicken. It is my favorite recipe, Itachi-sama, though I am sure that you do not need my personal view." Tora replied calmly as she expertly transferring a thick golden sauce from a pan into a small bowl. "Does that answer your question sufficiently?"
"Hrm," Itachi mumbled, slouching forward in his chair as if in shame at the pitiful meal he had salvaged.
"There is no need to feel any way embarrassed, Itachi-sama. I have prepared enough for you as well," Tora added politely, a slight hint of a positive emotion like happiness creeping into her voice. Suddenly, she flung her hand from the stirring ladle up in front of her face, grasping the blade of the kunai that had threatened to slay her. Itachi stood close behind her, murderously holding the kunai.
"I am embarrassed of nothing," he hissed in Tora's ear, his other hand cruelly grasping her thick fiery braid that cascaded down her back. "Do you understand that?"
"Of course, Itachi-sama. I understand completely, and I apologize for my foolish assumptions," Tora replied without batting an eyelid at the attack. The two stood there for several moments, Itachi daring Tora to plead for freedom, Tora patiently allowing his actions. Tora, after the uncomfortable minutes, squirmed suddenly. Itachi smirked.
"Afraid, Tora-chan?" he hissed viciously.
"No, Itachi-sama. I need to reach the rice pan, the grains need to be stirred," the girl replied calmly, groping towards the pan handle. "The food will burn." Itachi growled savagely and pulled the kunai back, and Tora lowered er hand foolishly. The blade swung back up and, for the third time in two days, her cut was gouged open. Itachi did not relinquish hold on her hair, and pulled her head savagely back as he whispered in her ear.
"As long as you have that gash, little Tora, know that I am the stronger between us and that I own you," The dark boy whispered evilly, freeing her hair from his hand and withdrawing back to his chair. Tora, wiping the blood from her wound away gingerly, stirred the rice and went back with her cooking, a heavy silence between them. Both ignored the familiar chakra as it neared the kitchen.
"What's that smell?" asked Kisame has he entered the kitchen area, but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Tora standing over the pots and pans. The left side of his face looked like a giant, heinous blister where Tora had ripped his flesh apart. "Oh, it is you," he growled. Tora did not even turn her head.
"Would you like some dinner, Kisame-sama?" asked Tora as she pulled some plates from a cabinet. "I made plenty."
"No," grumbled Kisame, turning on his heel. "I'll be upstairs." Tora watched him go, the pulled three plates, three bowls, and three sets of wooden chopsticks from the cupboards, carefully piling succulent food on each in three equal portions. She carefully placed a bowl on each plate, and carried two sets of food over to the wooden table. Carefully, she placed one order of food before Itachi, breaking the wooden chopsticks herself as she did.
"Here is your dinner, Itachi-sama," she said respectfully, bowing her head as she placed the other plate across the table, as far from Itachi as the wooden furniture would allow. Itachi looked over at the counter, where a platter of steaming food waited to be eaten.
"I thought Kisame wasn't eating," he murmured.
"He will be hungry soon enough," Tora replied simply as she lifted the plate onto her arm and started out of the room. "He will need strength to heal that gash on his face, Itachi-sama." Carefully, Tora left the kitchen and climbed the stairs, stopping outside of a closed door across the hall from her room. She knocked three times, then gently et the plate of food down at the base of the closed oak door and went back downstairs.
Kisame senses that whomever had been at his door had left so he opened the door a crack and looked out moodily. No one was there, good. But that damned smell from dinner was killing him! That damned girl had made the smell waft up here, tempting him to go downstairs. But no, he wouldn't fall for-
Itachi looked down at the platter of perfect food and unbroken chopsticks at his feet. Greedily and sneakily, he snatched the food away.
Damn that girl, pretending to be nice after what she did and trying to be his friend....
* * * * * *
In chapter eight: Tora takes care of the house, but what does she do after hours?
Rated PG-13 for: Violence, adult language, adult situations, and suggestive content. Rating is expecting to rise in further installments.
* * * * * *
Itachi sat in the kitchen, silently eating cold chicken that had been found in the refrigerator. He placidly watched as Tora bustled around the cooking area, frying fish and mixing spices and all around multitasking as she made a- though Itachi wouldn't admit it aloud- savory smelling meal. The vicious curiosity pulled at Itachi's mind as the girl silently simmered the rice and diced the carrots.
"In God's name, what are you making?" growled Itachi, not bothering to hide his annoyance and anger. The smell of cooking reminded him of his mother, and that was someone he hated to the point of insanity. Tora didn't even face him as she answered.
"Tiger's secret spiced fish with vegetables- with a special sauce passed through my clan, I have to add- over white rice and teriyaki chicken. It is my favorite recipe, Itachi-sama, though I am sure that you do not need my personal view." Tora replied calmly as she expertly transferring a thick golden sauce from a pan into a small bowl. "Does that answer your question sufficiently?"
"Hrm," Itachi mumbled, slouching forward in his chair as if in shame at the pitiful meal he had salvaged.
"There is no need to feel any way embarrassed, Itachi-sama. I have prepared enough for you as well," Tora added politely, a slight hint of a positive emotion like happiness creeping into her voice. Suddenly, she flung her hand from the stirring ladle up in front of her face, grasping the blade of the kunai that had threatened to slay her. Itachi stood close behind her, murderously holding the kunai.
"I am embarrassed of nothing," he hissed in Tora's ear, his other hand cruelly grasping her thick fiery braid that cascaded down her back. "Do you understand that?"
"Of course, Itachi-sama. I understand completely, and I apologize for my foolish assumptions," Tora replied without batting an eyelid at the attack. The two stood there for several moments, Itachi daring Tora to plead for freedom, Tora patiently allowing his actions. Tora, after the uncomfortable minutes, squirmed suddenly. Itachi smirked.
"Afraid, Tora-chan?" he hissed viciously.
"No, Itachi-sama. I need to reach the rice pan, the grains need to be stirred," the girl replied calmly, groping towards the pan handle. "The food will burn." Itachi growled savagely and pulled the kunai back, and Tora lowered er hand foolishly. The blade swung back up and, for the third time in two days, her cut was gouged open. Itachi did not relinquish hold on her hair, and pulled her head savagely back as he whispered in her ear.
"As long as you have that gash, little Tora, know that I am the stronger between us and that I own you," The dark boy whispered evilly, freeing her hair from his hand and withdrawing back to his chair. Tora, wiping the blood from her wound away gingerly, stirred the rice and went back with her cooking, a heavy silence between them. Both ignored the familiar chakra as it neared the kitchen.
"What's that smell?" asked Kisame has he entered the kitchen area, but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Tora standing over the pots and pans. The left side of his face looked like a giant, heinous blister where Tora had ripped his flesh apart. "Oh, it is you," he growled. Tora did not even turn her head.
"Would you like some dinner, Kisame-sama?" asked Tora as she pulled some plates from a cabinet. "I made plenty."
"No," grumbled Kisame, turning on his heel. "I'll be upstairs." Tora watched him go, the pulled three plates, three bowls, and three sets of wooden chopsticks from the cupboards, carefully piling succulent food on each in three equal portions. She carefully placed a bowl on each plate, and carried two sets of food over to the wooden table. Carefully, she placed one order of food before Itachi, breaking the wooden chopsticks herself as she did.
"Here is your dinner, Itachi-sama," she said respectfully, bowing her head as she placed the other plate across the table, as far from Itachi as the wooden furniture would allow. Itachi looked over at the counter, where a platter of steaming food waited to be eaten.
"I thought Kisame wasn't eating," he murmured.
"He will be hungry soon enough," Tora replied simply as she lifted the plate onto her arm and started out of the room. "He will need strength to heal that gash on his face, Itachi-sama." Carefully, Tora left the kitchen and climbed the stairs, stopping outside of a closed door across the hall from her room. She knocked three times, then gently et the plate of food down at the base of the closed oak door and went back downstairs.
Kisame senses that whomever had been at his door had left so he opened the door a crack and looked out moodily. No one was there, good. But that damned smell from dinner was killing him! That damned girl had made the smell waft up here, tempting him to go downstairs. But no, he wouldn't fall for-
Itachi looked down at the platter of perfect food and unbroken chopsticks at his feet. Greedily and sneakily, he snatched the food away.
Damn that girl, pretending to be nice after what she did and trying to be his friend....
* * * * * *
In chapter eight: Tora takes care of the house, but what does she do after hours?