Chapter Twenty-Eight: Daemons and Eyes
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His sweat plopped on the scroll and soaked through the scroll-paper. More drops fell down on the blank portion before he decided to wipe his forehead against the thick, but slightly coarse, material of his sleeve. He took a breath; wind felt foreign on his skin; teeth, like miniature ceramic shards against his tongue.
He could feel the heat from the flame, in the lantern, upon his face; and blood was ringing in his ears, heavy shrine bells falling. His fever was spiking again. He squeezed his eyes shut and jerked them open to focus on the two scrolls on the clean office table. His vision swam like a boat rocked by storm, and he sensed his Sharingan, rudely and disobediently, flicker and fulminate against his wishes.
Despite his miserable state, a glimmer of a smile came alive upon his colourless lips; the rest of his face did not cede to the warmth of triumph; and, still, it was too soon to call this a victory. A small win—a favourable foray, he thought of his brother's words from a lovely memory. Hinata was as obedient as he always thought her to be. She was at his command over something as meagre as playtime. How easy was it for him to bring her to him, with rewards plenty? Oh, how easy. O', happy, happy little child!
He blinked hard and the smile faltered, his eyes moist, glinting with red's malice. He would make them pay. He would make them suffer, and she would be the one to pull at the fateful string attached to that blood-decorated guillotine, and then it would be "off with the traitor's head!". He forced down a humourless laugh.
Fools, the lot of them! he wanted to spit his words out, but the thoughts remained chained to his secrets. He liked keeping them to himself. They were his toys, and he, a little child who never intended to part with them. Each was exquisite, magnificent, tempting in its own way. What good would it do to end this playtime? A frown came over his face, and he bit into his lower lip. His brother would not beat him at his game. He would not let him. He would not allow him.
So stubborn, you child, his brother's words, cold words, rang in his mind. Bells—yes, like bells! He received a reprimand for his actions in the forest—a punishment for talking back; but he was stubborn still, as though the lash of his words was enough to damper his spirits soaring! He clucked in satisfaction. It was as though Itachi did not
know him, at all; how careless of his brother. He smiled a child-like smile of innocence, tinged with freer amusement, of which only a boy would know!
Bringing his running thoughts back to the scrolls, Sasuke traced the seal with the tip of his finger. His knees felt weak to support his body. He placed his hands on the table and slumped over. His vision focused and unfocused: the room seemed to distort about him, but he did not have time to care for his own misery.
Sasuke moved his eyes back and forth between the two scrolls: the payment for Byakugans was made before he was even born. He sharply turned his head to the right. A large payment was made under Danzō's supervision to Yagura. His heart raced, the feeling exquisite. He was close—oh, so close!
The sum was huge: several thousand gold coins. Right on the bottom was a seal he had never seen before. It was some kind of Jutsu bartered to gain something from the Tulip Squad; something about it was so familiar, but . . . damn this scroll! Damn it all! He clenched his teeth, his face working into red fury. It spoke nothing of what was taken from the other party.
Agitated, with something of an angry scowl on his face, he raised his head to look at the woman who walked in through the door. "Took your sweet time," he bit out the words as if he was dragging them across the rough rocks on the shore, with relish.
Karin fingered the frame of her glasses and closed the door. She wore a tense look. "Sasuke, it isn't my fault your brother's punishing you. Don't take it out on me—it isn't fair," she said, her voice heavy, her expression subtle.
Sasuke stood straight. "Did you do it or not?" he asked coldly, blinked, and squinted whilst he showed her his irritation with the eyes' other nature.
Karin emitted a defeated sigh and walked around the table. She placed her hand on his forehead and looked startled. "You're burning up! Go home and lie down for a while. You've got another mission in an hour. Don't waste your time on this scroll. You have it now, don't you? It isn't running away," she reasoned, looking into his eyes, rimmed by the most uncharacteristically deep black circles. He had not slept in days—only power naps were keeping him afloat.
His face was gaunt and pallid, his lips scroll white. "Well," he paused and let out a heavy breath, "did you?" He raised his shaking hand.
"I did it, a'right? The seals you showed me on the other one are typical Root seals. Your brother has 'em in his office. It's even got the same signature chakra—for Sage's sake, Sasuke! Do you want to kill yourself? What's wrong with you?" she asked in disbelief and pushed him back down into the chair. She rolled up her sleeve and pressed the soft side of her arm to his lips. "Bite it—it'll bring down your fever a bit."
Sasuke looked from her arm to her face, with seeming irritation. "Come on," she spoke sweetly and sat down on his right thigh, "don't be mean."
He sighed and sank his teeth into her arm and broke the skin there. His eyes fluttered close, and he almost swooned at the sensation: he drank her blood with great thirst, feeling as if he had never tasted something so warm and sweet. Her chakra rushed through his veins and imbued his body with a delicious sensation of peace. She let out a loud moan—a sound he was most accustomed to ever since they became acquaintances. When he backed away, he saw a rosy colour on her cheeks; he was used to seeing this, too.
Karin raised her arm and watched as the marks, and the bruise, healed on their own. Clasping her arms around his neck, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Feeling better?" she asked in the same sugary-sweet voice, which he knew to be fake from experience.
He leant back and felt the burden on his body lessen. The enervating heat vanished into something more manageable. "Where's Jūgo?" he asked and looked at the lantern on his desk. Sun was going below the horizon, and shadow, rising up in the office.
"You haven't seen the duty-roster your brother left?" She quirked her brow and twisted her back to grab the scroll from the table. "He left with Serizawa, Kai, and Naruto to do a B-Rank mission for Tsunade—something about a bureaucrat."
"Fantastic," he said, a bit harshly, his lips twisting in a scowl.
"Aren't Serizawa and Kai your cousins?" she asked.
"Distant cousins," he corrected her, with the subtlest flick of his hand.
"I thought you liked Serizawa?" Karin asked, and when he did not answer, she brushed back the strands of black hair stuck to his brow and spoke again: "your brother doesn't want this. Isn't it obvious?"
"Thank you. I never would've guessed had you not made it so humanly obvious," he said and looked at her up and down as though she was mocking him.
"Gosh, you're angry today. That's not what I meant," she broke off and rested her back against the edge of the table, "is it even necessary to fight Itachi? Talk to him. He'll listen." She stood up and placed the scroll back on the table.
He cast a curious eye over her fair face, which showed a sprinkle of deep-red freckles about the nose and cheeks. "You don't think I've tried?" he said, putting force into his words.
"He's not going to stop. How long do you want to keep this up? You retaliate, he punishes you. You step out of line, he punishes you. You ask for answers, he punishes you. This is crazy. If he doesn't back down, then maybe, you should try something different, or—" she stopped at the look of budding rage in his eyes.
"Or what?" he hissed and got to his feet. "Go on, say it that I should stop—let bygones be bygones. Forget about my parents' disgraceful deaths. Is that what you want me to do? Accept that my parents deserved to be put down like dogs? Accept the slaughter of my people?" Then he emitted an emotionless laugh.
Karin raised her eyes to meet his. "I'm not saying that," she began and grasped his hand. "I'm saying that you should slow down. You're killing yourself. You got a little better after weeks of suffering from fever, and look at yourself now—back on the same horse again. If you keep this up, you won't get anything done. That's all I'm saying. Sasuke, I'm not your enemy."
She stretched on her toes, her lips at his throat. "Go ahead and ignore me. You know I'm right!" she said irritably as he moved to grab the other scroll from the table.
He held it up and tapped his finger against the symbol on the scroll. "What's this? It looks like a Fuin-Jutsu symbol of the Uzumaki clan. I get a feeling that I've seen this before," he said, his eyes moving on her face.
She took it from his hand, her eyes wide. "Where did you get this?" she asked, as if awed by something.
"It doesn't matter. What does it mean?" he asked, impatient this time.
"You're right. It's an Uzumaki Fuin-Jutsu—a sealing Jutsu for the daemonic essence. Look, it's got a triangle symbol. Which means—" Her lips pulled into a smile, and her eyes widened with wonder as though she had come across something secret, something magnificent.
"Isobu, the three tails daemonic essence," he replied back, his face oddly blank.
"I don't need to tell you the rest, but it seems like Danzō and his crooks paid Mist and the Tulip Squad a hell lot more than a couple of eyes," she whispered, afraid that someone might overhear their conversation.
Sasuke threw the scroll on the table and breathed out flames. They danced over the scrolls and they crinkled and burnt. Within a moment, ashes were left behind on his table. He slumped down into the chair, frightened of this new thread . . .
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"Let us pass. Do not make this unpleasant," Itachi spoke in a polite tone of voice, his face carrying the hints of a smile.
Raindrops coursed down his face, his hand locked to his weapon. Behind him stood Suigetsu with his deft, ever-ready hand on the hilt of the Executioner's Blade. It had few unsightly chinks in its metal. The struggling sunlight shone on its large blade that was sharp and big enough to cut more than one man in two.
Sakura stood alert, her face tense. A frail old man hid behind her slim figure. His crooked hands quivered on her shoulders in fear. She moved her fingers and turned on her Byakugō seal and a deep-pink chakra sprang out: it twisted round the contours of her face and ran down her breast and limbs.
Suigetsu chuckled. "Don't be a cunt, mate. Ya don't know 'bout this fella. I'm tellin' ya, he'll kill ya like no body's business. Even starin' at his tight arse's an honour fer me and pinky-chan—yah, her hair's real. I know, right? Fuckin' crazy pink shit!" he said, almost incredulously. "Run along and suck on a tit or cock—if ya poke that way—bury yor teeny goose in some hopeless hole and calm yorself. Life's too short. Why do ya want ta die? Let us through."
"Suigetsu, do not use such coarse language," Itachi spoke in a disapproving manner.
Suigetsu pulled his sword out of the old-looking leather sheath and pinned it into the soggy ground. "Why, boss, don'tcha like me best-thought arse-kissin'? I love handin' 'em out ta ya like dangos." He clapped his hands together, grinning.
The man in front looked mortified. His face twitched in disgust. "Dear Sage, shut your gob! You talk a lot for a pissy little water monkey. Just hand over the man and we'll be on our way." He drew his weapon and took on an aggressive stance. He was ready to strike.
"I will not ask you again. Let us pass," Itachi spoke, and his eyes grew sinister. His Sharingan whirled to life, and the man in front staggered back, surprised that he was dealing with an Uchiha. Luck didn't fuck me in the arse today . . .
"Uchiha . . . " he whispered and gulped down the hard lump in his throat. The expression of smugness drained from his face, replaced by primal fear instilled into his mind by the ill-omened red in the taller man's eyes.
Suddenly, a clever smile came into his eyes. Three kunais flew towards the Uchiha from the back and got deflected with ease. The man blinked. He did not even see Itachi move. His face contorted, and his limbs convulsed as he raised his hand to his throat. A feathery-red spray burst from the necks of the two men in front, their heads going up and backwards, like fat and round birds.
They thudded to the ground—dead. Blood went into the mud and began to quickly disappear. Itachi's face shivered a bit with disgust. He wiped away the blood from the side of his face and looked at it as it got diluted by the rain into something mild on his palm. It ran down from between his fingers and disappeared; its warmth, a fleeting sensation.
Itachi looked over his shoulder and brought his eyes upon the old man shaking behind Sakura; his fear-stricken face was frozen mid-scream. "Tetsu, come to me." He indicated with the flick of his hand. The man wobbled to him, raising his kimono high enough (in the manner of a dainty maiden) for his spindly knees to come into full view.
Like a lady of high-stature, he squelched through the mud, his round belly shaking as if he was wading through raging waters that would sweep him away without a shout for help. "Others are still around. You two are—" Itachi stopped mid-sentence as he staggered forward from the belly thrust at him from behind. He caught his balance and half-turned, his eyes widening—very, very slowly.
The man was shaking from head to toe, his knees knocking together, and he had his arms around Itachi's waist in a tight embrace. Suigetsu had the back of his hand pressed to his lips as he shook with silent laughter. Sakura's eyes grew wider. She had a bright blush on her cheeks. "It is not necessary to cling to me so closely. We can protect you," he spoke, his face straight, and, gently, tried to pry Tetsu's arms open; but the man did not move.
"I w-will pay you more, boy, if you spare me your calm-me-down pep-talk and pretty bullshit. I'm not dying here—not today! These assholes have been out for my behind and blood for months. Don't you tell me not to worry with that pretty mouth of yours. You look like a capable shinobi. Enough with the bullshit and stand still and let me hide behind you," he said in a single breath, his jaw rigid. "Lord Sage! Is this man a pretty Kami of death? Has he come to take me? Why—why? I'm too young to die!"
Itachi opened his mouth to say something, but heaved a sigh in its stead. "Never you mind. Clean up this area. Both of you. The sooner we end this—we have to escort him back, as well, and it already seems like a monstrous task," he spoke, with a cold irritation: a vein throbbed in his temple, and his jaws clenched as though he was in pain when he felt the man crush his belly against his back.
"I thought ya was goin' ta say, spare me yor somethin' else, pretty please. O', well—next time, right, Tetsu-San? You da mate!" Suigetsu winked at him and disappeared with Sakura behind the trees. It did not take long for one mischievous Jōnin and the other Chūnin to tear up the men hiding like rats in the trees.
His Sharingan was out, and he gauged Sakura's worth again: she had collected a lot of chakra into her forehead seal—enough to create a few Kage-Bunshins and still more and make it back to the prisoner and release enough of it to smash the rocks to pieces and . . . a heart, too. It appeared to be her unique ability to gather precise chakra into her hands and release it against a single point with devastating results.
Could it be? he brushed off the thought (for the moment) and waited for them to finish the task . . .
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The light in the lantern overhead flickered. Itachi raised his head to gaze up, a bit displeased. They made it safely back from Konoha, but he did not get the chance to see his brother. Tetsu proved to be quite the handful, cowering behind him and clinging to all three whenever danger presented itself in any form. The man was an annoyance, and he was pleased that they made it back in time. Now, they just had to stay here till the meeting's end and this ridiculous task would be behind him.
Presently, he sat in his guest room, a scroll in hand, his eyes upon the details; but it seemed as though he had other pressing concerns. He rolled up the scroll and placed it back on the table. Sakura sat opposite, her eyes nervous from anticipation. "Why have you come to me for this matter?" Itachi asked and slipped one leg over the other.
Sakura cleared her throat, her gaze bent upon the Sharingan. It bothered her, like Sasuke's Sharingan bothered her; but his was unkind like winter's silence, and Sasuke's, hostile like autumn's noise; you could burn both ways . . . she lost her train of thought for a moment, but composed herself to speak again, her voice a little too timid: "I thought it'd be appropriate to go directly to the Anbu Captain for this—that's all." She bent her head and rubbed her trembling hands together.
Itachi took in a deep breath and created a smile. "Strange. Do you believe that I would spoil you like your mentor?" he asked in a low, smooth voice, his face almost expression-less.
Sakura jerked her head up, her face enveloped by embarrassment. "N-No, Itachi-Sama, that's not it. I just—I wanted matters to expedite. Sasuke—he—" she mumbled and fell silent.
"You have so many grievances with the boy," he spoke and narrowed his eyes. "You try and bypass his authority all the time through your mentor. Is there any reason for this disdain? I am only curious." And then he was wearing such an odd smile that she shivered.
She chewed on her lower lip and pulled her eyes off his face, darker under the shadow, and moved them downward to her lap. Bitterness welled up as tears, and she saw them fall on her hands. "Your brother—Sasuke—he—he taunts me," she said, her voice wobbling and shaking. "I want him to tell me what mistakes I've made for him to hate me so much. I-It isn't fair." She lifted her head and harshly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
Itachi's smile had not vanished. He tilted his head slightly to the left, his eyes hiding that bit of amusement. "I will ask him the reason as to why he treats you so unfairly, but he told me that you were forced upon him by the Hokage. You failed your tests, and he had to go through many troubles to make sure you stayed on the Squad. Is that true?" he asked coolly. Her tears had had no effect on his demeanour.
Tears and eyes and faces . . . they never changed his heart. He thought them to be tricks—means to an end. His foes made good use of them, but they never could earn his heart's favour; but upon his darling, they became instruments of obsession's songs! He thought this girl to be foolish, easy. Did she think that this show would move him? She overestimated her abilities.
"I," she paused, blinking back more ready-made tears he was starting to find a tad bit irksome, "I did a task for Fū-San."
Itachi's eyes narrowed a little more; his deliberate smile almost slipped off his lips. "Fū? I could ask the man, but he is unlucky and dead. He cannot speak. He did not have the authority to ask for such an assistance. What sort of missions have you done for Danzō? I saw nothing of the sort in your reports," he spoke, with the slightest surprise in his voice.
Cat was out of the ninja-bag—there was no use hiding it anymore. Sakura nodded but did not repeat Danzō's name. There was no need for Itachi to use an honorific for Root's Head. They were of equal rank. In Leaf, the Hokage was the only one above his rank now. "I had to make a poison and its antidote for him. It took me many weeks, but I was successful," she explained, smiling a broad smile.
"What sort of poison?" he asked, pressing his thumb to his lips, his eyes watching her. She was not experienced enough to espy the fleeting emotions re-surfacing and disappearing into their depths like the ocean serpent of the deep—secretive, slippery, elusive. It was always difficult for any eye to catch his emotions in its firm gaze. They were sudden, fleeting.
"It combines the venom of a spider and the enzymes found in—" she stopped suddenly, looking unsure as if she should even say it, "—in . . . in the Purple Lilies." She lowered her eyes immediately when she saw something appear in Itachi's eyes, like a reflexive jerk of a chakra-imbued synthetic-automaton's limb in the hands of a skilled puppeteer. She thought that his eyes had brightened—exactly like fires; but when she looked back up again, he looked the same—unmoving.
Peering at the dark, she looked fearfully at the Sharingan that glowed and continued to threaten her, though his inscrutable face gave no suggestion of what passed in his savage mind. He managed a smile, and his eyes cooled off. "I applaud your success," he spoke so softly. "I will speak to your Captain, but you must take him into confidence for the Jōnin trials business. I cannot intervene and give you a free access. Otherwise, people will assume . . . terrible things." A subtle emotion rushed across his face, but her eyes were unable to register it.
Sakura nodded weakly. Itachi grabbed the scroll and held it out. "You may leave," he spoke as a knock came upon the door.
She stretched her arm, and her finger brushed against his. A sudden discomfort rose up to her skin, and it tingled whilst his chakra began stabbing into her pores and went running in every direction—in search of something. She caught her breath in her throat, and mist came across her eyes. She blinked and saw Itachi standing as he opened the latch of the lantern overhead to breathe out a bit of fire. The wick, like Sharingan, burnt with a new vigour.
The feeling dissolved away into minute parasites, biting but bearable. Sakura pressed her hand to her breast and felt her heart violently throb. Her hands and vision were not steady. Her gaze wavered a bit as she moved her unwilling feet towards the door.
"Prepare the part of your mission-report and submit it to me before we leave. I would require the report on the poison, as well." His voice came to her from a faraway corner of the world—whispery. She did not turn her gaze to him, lest he would break her wits apart—it would shame her. She gave an awkward nod and grabbed the handle of the door when he spoke again, "I find it peculiar that, of all the flowers, you chose the one the boy adores." He smiled but did not turn his head to see her silently leave through the door.
Suigetsu stepped in and closed the door behind him. He was swaddled down to his ankles in a large robe, a smile sparkling on his face. "Pinky-Chan's a lil' tramp. I hope ya haven't taken a likin' ta her. Ya deserve the finest of birds," he chirped.
Itachi walked around the table and closed the window at the room's far end, though he still felt air make it in through the cracks around the window; he enjoyed the cold, but the unpleasant odours from flora bothered him. He turned around, his eyes red: she was in her room; it was safe to speak. "I did not bring you here for theatrics. I have seen quite the show just now and it has bored me," he spoke, a bit brusquely.
Suigetsu created an offended look on his face. "Hey, now! Don't take it out on me. I put me life and eyes on the line ta get these. Yor crow nearly poked me eyes out—thrice! That nasty lil' piece af shit bird was outta control," he said in mock outrage and handed over a scroll to Itachi. "This bitch's keepin' an eye on Naruto. And like ya said, she's reportin' ta that rotten, poop-snortin' ol' fart, Danzō. She's been doin' it fer the past two years."
"Right about the time she was forced upon Sasuke by the charitable Hokage," Itachi mused and sat down in an old chair.
Suigetsu scratched the back of his head; the lack of cool air in the room was making it a bit hot for him to speak and think. "That's not all. She knows 'bout the daemonic mumbo-jumbo in that goofy nutter and 'as been told ta keep watch and report when he goes loopy. Pretty shitty thin' ta do—when he's knockin' her up an' all that," he said and walked to the window, letting the little amount of air hit his face. It felt good!
Itachi was quiet. The details were strange: keeping track of Naruto's timings, what he did, and where he went; how much control he had; when he lost control . . . the list was long. "It does not speak of what she utilises to weaken his control. It must be some sort of Fuin-Jutsu. She probably left this in a hurry when I called her in for the mission. I call this luck," he spoke and rolled up the scroll.
"Why don'tchya just Genjutsu it outta this bitch? It ain't a thin' fer ya. If ya can plant funny images into Sasuke's head, she'll be no trouble fer ya," he said and placed his hands on his hips.
"Tsukuyomi would kill her. Sasuke can resist it, for he is my flesh and blood. I can use the ordinary Genjutsu upon her, but," he paused, kneading his brow, "she must have a Root Seal somewhere on her body. It would be mostly invisible to my Sharingan. Root will know if I break into her mind. It will sound an alarm, and I cannot risk starting another incident between Root and Uchiha."
"Invisible?" Suigetsu asked.
"Courtesy of Kushina. She gifted many Jutsus in goodwill to Danzō. They were ready-made for sensitive tasks." He moved his head back—the wind from the gaps made the sweat drops on his brow quiver. "All that to ensure her husband's reign . . . she was a fool."
"Are ya sure ya don't want ta try it—not even fer Sasuke?" he asked and produced another scroll from his pocket.
Itachi cast him a curious look and took the scroll from his hand. He unrolled it, and the details made a prickly shiver walk up his spine. "What is this?" he asked as if talking to himself.
"She's keepin' an eye on Naruto fer her full reports on Sasuke," he explained, his face free of its typical antics. "She reported how his eyes calmed Naruto in the forest. How he uses 'em. How powerful they're in controllin' the dog in 'im. She seems ta be dangerous. I'd cut her throat if I was ya. She's playin' somethin' big with Danzō."
Itachi was looking at him . . . Root was going after his brother?
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EN: The bite marks on Karin don't disappear in Canon. I've taken a liberty in my narrative in this regard.