Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Next Best Thing
Canon Manga Info: Suigetsu's extremely fast. He reached Sasuke before Killer Bee could strike a fatal blow and before Raikage brought his fist down, when he was standing on a balcony—even War-Arc Sakura's considerably slower.
He was called a "prodigy in the art of murder" by Kisame—a reference to his outstanding Kenjutsu skills.
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Thunder rattled the land, the sky bleak and black; whites appeared again and again, illuminated the cave in which he stood. Heavy spatters of rain hit the rocks, droplets shattering with a deliberate zeal. Light slithered in through the cracks, snake-like; its many tails forked out magnificently as it exploded into a million pieces right before his eyes.
And still, in the unforgiving dark's clutches, he could not see who stood before him, mocking him of his inability to see it all today. Forgotten by Winter, dead and dry, Sakura flowers swirled and whirled by his sandals, but he did not bother to steer his gaze down to look; his Sharingan, a disobedient tool to-night. This trick could have been seen through so easily by its prying nature; but, alas . . . tonight, it was his greatest foe.
Water dripped down from the tiny holes above and fell upon his shoulder and soaked through the shirt to bite his skin—it shivered; and, again, a colder thunder, a callous beast, stilled this place, grasping the throat of Autumn's lasting storm. Be still—be quiet . . .
His damp face worked up into a knot of rage. He knew . . . he somehow knew, yet he did not know who it was. His mind came away blank—a scroll without ink; and then it was the same dream re-playing right before his eyes: a kunai thrust at him stabbed through his heart and he fell back and a silver streak came down again and again and again . . . and again without a heart upon his breast. Red went from him in gushes of indescribable music, his heart beating, like wings beating Winter's air that would not stir. It spattered across the mud in long streaks and cooled off right before his eyes.
His life ebbed away, drop by drop. How cruel that ritual of Death was? He could not fight the dark that came at him from all sides, shapeless arms reaching out to cradle him as though he was a weeping child that needed to be dandled for innocent smiles, tiny sounds of laughter, ever-lasting. We are all happiest as children! His limbs convulsed and his fingers contorted, pain in every fibre; his body was a static temple as a paroxysm of pain and fear seized him. He was dying . . . counting down the seconds that slipped away as quickly as phantoms.
That life, his life, passed before his eyes in fast flashes. He caught few moments, lost others, as a faceless fear descended upon his heart. It skipped and tripped, fearing the approaching blackest black. Last drops of Life-Force throbbed in his veins; and seized by a terror so raw, his spirit returned backwards to a child who wanted to call out to his brother. He would save him, shelter him in his arms; but his tongue, a heavy mass, would not move.
Upon his tongue, Death was exquisite. Just a few trickles from its seductive body, and he was floating. Did it matter? Did he matter? This dream was a lie; his body, a mass of desire; his spirit, an organ of virtue; and wedged between the two, his soul sang, a solid chord for both hands.
He blinked one last time, his vapoured right eye catching the droplet. The last he saw was the kunai reaching for his eyes . . . and then everything dispersed into shivering shadows. Torturous breaths returned to his body and filled it with life. His heart pounded with speed in his throat and temples. The room swayed slowly into view, and his dream-touched gaze focused on two purple eyes staring down at him with concern.
He coughed and leant forward and held his head in his hands. The dream . . . it was haunting him. "Sasuke," the voice sounded whisper-like against the ringing in his ears, "ya a'right?"
Sasuke moved his head to look up at Suigetsu's face. He placed his hand on Sasuke's trembling shoulder and said, "ya okay? Yor bleedin'!"
Sasuke blinked and felt the itchy tear crawl its way down his cheek. He wiped it away with the tip of his fingers and looked back at Suigetsu. "I'm fine," he said and drew in quick breaths to calm his aching nerves. Izanagi was telling him something, yet he did not know what!
A frown creased Sasuke's forehead and he sighed out. "You're done with the mission? We need to talk about Mist. I've got to contact Mei again if I hope to catch Kisame," he said into his hands, stifling a yawn.
"Yeh, 'bout that," Suigetsu said, with an awkward grin, "yor brother's sent in another mission-order fer ya." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scroll. Sasuke groaned and flashed his red eyes on him. He was boiling to a rage now.
"Another one? Does he think I'm a common mule?" he growled, angry at his brother's persistence to keep up the unjust course of punishments. "You have at it. He can throw me out if it pleases him. I'm going home." He made to stand up when Suigetsu pushed him back down again.
"Slow down there, sonny boy!" Suigetsu said in a high-pitched voice. "This is just a lil' trainin' mission. Don't go angerin' 'im now. Ya know how he gets when he's losin' his shit. It ain't pretty! Do ya want ta be barred frem missions fer months? Ignore it if ya feel like it, but don't say I didn't warn ya." He waved the scroll in Sasuke's face—who looked up at him and then took it from his hand, grudgingly.
He ran his eyes down the details, and a small chuckle slipped past his lips. "Train Sakura?" he asked, surprised. "The team's training sessions are three weeks away. I'm not coddling her now. And why's Nii-Sama so interested in her all of a sudden?"
Suigetsu shrugged and made his way to a slightly ajar window by the table. A cool wind was floating in and the sky was a battlefield of tangerines and dandelions. Sun hung down below the horizon and clouds piled up with haste up north. It would rain at night. "I don't know. He thinks Pinky-Chan's as slow as a fat codger's fud—too slow ta assist him in Anbu missions. He wants ya ta give her some lessons ta improve her speed and shit like that," he explained and looked over his shoulder at Sasuke's amused face.
"Pinky-Chan? Aren't you a poet." Sasuke rolled up the scroll.
Suigetsu turned around, hands on his hips. "I used ta write fer a local news scroll—poetry section. I said a lot a' stuff 'bout untold stories on water, wetness, and more wetness. Alas, the pissers never got past the wet stuff ta take a peek at this bundle a' talent. Yor just jealous!" he returned and opened the window fully to let more cool air in.
Sasuke turned his red eyes to the door, his Sharingan breaking the barriers to look beyond everything before him. (Outside the dream, his Sharingan made him happy!) He saw Sakura's dull chakra move in her body as she mounted the stairs at the far end of the corridor. She came to a halt before the door, timidly raised her knuckle, and knocked. "Come in," he said and did not turn his eyes to look at her.
Stepping into the office, she closed the door behind her and stopped in front of him, eyes upon his face, heart inching beyond her control. She squeezed them shut, and her face worked into a reflex of disgust. She hated herself for being so weak, vulnerable, girl-ish before his charms. He looked quite ill and frail today, yet still as beautiful as ever that she loathed that face with passion—she loved that face with passion. Delightful clashes of love and hate—she could not live like this whilst both sides mocked her reasons.
Ever since she was a girl, she wanted him. He received Genin Training in his own village when he was but a wee boy. They first met when he joined the Chūnin Academy. His face was so innocent back then, free of the facades he wore upon it without a care now. As her body grew, she found herself inside the unyielding grasp of lust. Such a profound, crushing attraction that he was all that went through her mind—day and night; they whispered his phantoms into her dreams, and he stole her innocence, her peace, her heart; yet he was still harsh to her when he was a thieving boy who cared little for her loss: as a boy he stole her heart; as a man, he crushed it.
When would he touch the flesh, choke the fire, fill the groove? It ached—she ached. His distance intensified the fever, a fever she satisfied through Naruto; but it was not enough. It was never enough. Naruto was not him. No one could ever be him.
Sasuke said something to Suigetsu, but she did not hear it. Her gaze was bent upon his countenance, held there by an emotion her face worked feverishly with—a terrible hope. Tears threatened her eyes as she pursued and chased him in the lust-drenched landscape of her young mind, always wanting. A shiver rushed through her when he looked upon her. His lips moved to speak, but she did not bother to hear a thing. Her eyes roamed about his agreeable face and unfriendly body. He would touch all, but her . . . and it was not fair!
"Sakura, I asked you something," Sasuke said, his voice surprisingly calm, drawing her full attention, "were you included in the last week's training sessions?" He pressed his back against the cushions on the sofa and closed his eyes.
"N-No," she mumbled and looked at his smooth throat; he appeared to be drifting into sleep. Sweat drops stood over the green vein beating beneath his white skin. A look of sad longing rushed into her eyes, and she lowered her gaze. It was not as if she could ever make him hers. Her lips began to shake, and she bit back a sob. He made her so weak, and she hated him for it.
A heavy sigh came from his lips. He rubbed at his eyes and then raised them to look at her face that was turned away from him. "It's six p.m. The training grounds would be empty," he said and breathed another deep sigh, "come along." He got to his feet and turned his tired eyes to Suigetsu. "You, too—come with me."
Suigetsu whirled around, a shocked expression on his pasty face. "Why me?" he asked with a shout.
"Because I said so," came the quick reply, and he walked out of the door, with Sakura right behind him.
"Eh?" Suigetsu frowned, his jaw jutting out in irritation. He mumbled something incoherent and followed them . . .
The training grounds were empty, not a soul in sight. After last week's training sessions, all ninjas were given a week worth of respite. Crushed leaves lay strewn about the field, stirred ever so slightly by the breeze. Low hisses went up into the air, like a mating ball of many snakes, as the wind turned rough. The leaning tree above Sasuke's head shook, and a shower of leaves descended upon them. They got swept away by the wind before they touched the ground.
He leant back against the tree and shoved his hands into his pockets. His eyes were on Sakura's face and the pink in her cheeks. It was always the same with her, and he had grown sick of it!
"Spar with her," he commanded. Suigetsu took a battle stance and pulled out the large Executioner's Blade from its sheath. Petrified, Sakura looked at the sword's thick end. "Not with that, you fool. Pick up a wooden one. Do you want to cut her in half?"
Suigetsu chuckled. "A'right, a'right," he said in an amused voice and threw the sword to Sasuke. He caught the hilt and shoved the sword's tip into the ground. Suigetsu picked up a medium-sized wooden one from the rack and stood in front of Sakura. Then he licked his lips and charged. Rushing at her, he swung the sword. She did not even have the time to blink. It caught the side of her ribs and sent her flying across the ground. She crashed fifteen feet from him, her limbs spread on the ground in an awkward manner.
"What are you doing?" Sasuke scolded her. "Read his movements—evade or parry. Again!"
She scrambled to her feet and knotted her fingers into fists, her body shaking, her face shivering with anger. Suigetsu pulled his lips back in a slow smile; spit glistened on his bared teeth whilst he passed his tongue over his lips again. He was mocking her.
Gathering a massive amount of chakra in the legs, Sakura used Body-Flicker to instantly close the gap between them. She aimed for his right foot and slammed her fist into the ground, parts of which cracked and caved in about them, but he was faster. Jumping backwards, he hit her again with the sword that sent her sprawling to the ground.
"Again!" the harsh voice came from Sasuke, and again she raised herself to her shaky feet, her breathing quick but steady. This time, she turned to her Byakugō Seal and poured out the chakra onto her body. It ran into her veins and sizzled on the little bruises that healed on their own. She rushed in, faster this time; but, against a swordsman like Suigetsu, it was impossible to make her fist connect with his body.
Heartily laughing, he twisted and turned around her with ease, as though he was playing with a child flailing her arms about in anger. His wooden sword hit her across the shoulder this time. Her body twisted round, skidded across the ground, and came to a halt on a patch of stark yellow grass. Breathing heavily, Sakura slapped her hands onto the ground and raised her upper body. This was impossible—he was too fast! What kind of monster had Sasuke recruited?
"Get up," Sasuke said, with discernable irritation in his voice this time. "You're supposed to smooth out the chakra in your limbs. It'll help you in moving your legs faster and you'll react faster as a result. Your chakra control may be perfect for healing, but it needs work in Body-Flicker."
Sakura raised herself to her feet. Her body burnt with exertion, her eyes upon Sasuke as he made his way to them. He looked over to her, his red eyes hiding a meaningful emotion. He held his gaze for a moment. Then his Sharingan disappeared. At length, he said, "try to hit me—both of you. I won't use any Ninjutsu other than Body-Flicker. I won't use any tool. I won't use my Sharingan. React to me, parry, or hit me. Begin."
As soon as his voice passed to silence, overcome by nothing but anger for him, she swung her arm to catch the side of his shoulder. When she blinked, he was standing more than thirty feet from her, and she had clumsily staggered forward, completely missing her mark. A look of pure shock passed over her face as she gazed at him. "Too slow," he whispered, a wispy, playful smile pulling at his dry lips now.
"Sasuke, ya got a fever. It's not like ya would be movin' like ya normally do. Don't work too much, mate. I don't want ta hurt ya. It won't be fair," he said and waved his sword at him in a mischievous manner. "Can I pick me own blade back up, pretty please? I ain't likin' this kitchen knife. Besides, I'd like ta try an' cut yor pretty legs in half. They cost me a whore last time!"
Sasuke's eyes glinted in answer. "You can try," he rasped and gestured him to come closer.
Both of them charged at him at the same time, with Suigetsu covering the distance much faster than Sakura. He moved his sword around with lightning speed and grace. A blur in the slow-moving air, his sword cut down the mist that hung about into confetti, but it was all for naught. Sasuke was a master of Kenjutsu. It was impossible to even lay a finger on him at close range. In all of Leaf, his older sibling was the only one who was a little faster and more skilled than he in this art. That was the reason why Sasuke was the Head of the Espionage Squad: he was very quick—a deadly foe!
Seeing an opportunity, Sakura attacked him from behind. She sucked in her cheeks in a grimace when he flashed and jumped over her. She had no idea when he caught her arm and sent her flying into Suigetsu. They both crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Sakura quickly jumped to her feet, huffing and puffing. She moved her hand up and wiped the sweat from her face.
Suigetsu winced by her feet and gathered himself up to a sitting position. "What the fuck, mate? Her flat-arse almost broke me jaw!" he said and raised his hands up. "Yeh, I give up. Go get 'im, Pinky-Chan," he mocked her again and stood up.
Sakura ignored his taunt and rushed at him, all those thoughts tearing up her mind. She wanted to inflict the amount of pain he had sliced into her spirit through the years. All he ever did was reject her, mock her, test her limits. It was not fair. It just was not fair.
She rushed to him and found herself facing a vast expanse of trees beyond the boundary of the grounds . . . with no one in sight; her hands were pinned behind her back. The hot touch of his fingers weakened her spirits again.
He leant in and whispered in a way as though he was an exuberant child who had won a game: "I caught you." His lips touched the shell of her ear and a spark stabbed her and her breaths quickened without an ounce of shame. She bit her lower lip and ignored her discomfort and fought back a moan of anguish. He was teasing her, and she wanted to make him suffer for it.
Quite suddenly, Sasuke released her, and she crashed forward to the ground, her legs limp from the touch. They shook, without much of any discipline, against her will. Her pink hairs were dirty and sweaty now. They had fallen over her eyes that glared at him with a newfound ferociousness. He looked calm, his face blank.
"Work on your chakra. Smooth it out. Train with Suigetsu if you have to. Nii-Sama loves to take both of you along, so you'll have many chances to do this," he said with an air of anger about him. His jaw twisted from side to side, but he looked away. "Leave this training session's report in my office. I'll hand it over to Nii-Sama that his obedient brother fulfilled another one of his commands." And then he walked away, leaving her in a state of distress on the ground . . .
The night was as harsh to her as Sasuke. A cold toyed with her body as she dragged her feet to the office. Night had the sky in its clutches, and the clouds made a neat pile overhead. Thunder sounded and a light rain came down on her head. She ran for cover and made it to the office before it intensified.
Climbing the stairs, she reached up and touched her ear: it was still red-hot under her rain-soaked fingers. An expression of disgust contorted her face, and she slapped her hand on the wall. Her fingers shook, and she bent her head to hide her face. How could he tease her like that when she was trying so hard to detach herself from him? How could he? How dare he?
She wanted him to feel her pain and anger—somehow. Like mechanical toys, her feet moved on the steps, her mind caught in the cobweb of illusions. Was he changing for her? A burdened sigh left her lips. The thought was foolish. Then she let out a laugh, which no one heard. How foolish was she to hope that he would come around?
When Sakura came into the office, she noticed it was dimly lit. A single red lantern was still burning on the table; low on oil, its light struggled to win over the shadows. She looked around and found Sasuke sitting on the sofa. He was sleeping. His neck was arched back on the sofa and a scroll lay open in his lap. He had fallen asleep whilst reading something.
Sakura put the scroll on the table and bent down to look at the medicine: a common sleeping draught with pain-killer properties. It was quick-acting and sweet-tasting. The Medic Team made these for a restful night of sleep after a long and tiring mission. She raised her eyes to look at his face, hidden behind the hazy strip of a shadow.
He looked calm, serene. His handsome face did not have that look he vigorously used to mock her. His countenance . . . innocent, almost child-like, as though he had just experienced the wondrous first year of adolescence, without the typical displays of his anger and cunning. She gulped down the air in her throat and climbed onto the sofa. Supporting herself on her knees, with one hand on the sofa, she strained her neck to look into his pale face again.
Her heart pulsed at a violent pace, and before she could stop herself, she bent down and kissed his lips. He did not stir for quite a few moments whilst she took joy in the closeness of their bodies—the heat from his lips and the mad rise in lust from tasting him. Backing away, she looked down and his eyes fluttered open.
"Get away from me," he said groggily and weakly pushed her back, his hand shaking on her shoulder. She breathed heavy breaths, her eyes misted over. His fever had not abated and that training had taken the last of his strength. He was so weak that she pushed his hand aside and clamped her mouth over his again.
He protested feebly and jerked his face away from her hands, only to have her grab it again to guide his lips to hers. To keep him nice and still, her fingers wrapped around his throat, which throbbed with such heat under her fingers. She pulled back and kept taking lungfuls of air that stung inside her body's depths and looked at him through the thickest shroud of lust.
"Stop it!" he hissed between his teeth like a feral cat, his eyes smouldering under the windblown hair with a clear warning. He made to stand when she went at him again, her mouth dropping hungry kisses upon his lips, face, and throat. When she found the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat—his heart jumping there like something impatient—she sucked at it hard, and his breath quickened ever so slightly against his will.
She went back up to his mouth again and nibbled on his lower lip and his throat grew hotter under her firmer fingers. Then she grasped his hand and brought it to the needy core between her clenching thighs. His fingers brushed against it, and she bit down on his lower lip hard, drawing blood: the touch sent in a spark that tore her apart. Deeply angered, he mustered all the pieces of strength that remained and threw her back. The haze of lust lifted from her and new tears appeared in her eyes. She raised that hot and battered gaze to him as he stood away from her. His harsh eyes stared at her as warm blood moved slowly down his red lips.
"What's wrong with you?" he growled and rubbed his finger against his lower lip. A deep cut from her bite adorned it right in the middle. It was bleeding badly.
"Why—" she cried out, her face warping in anger and defeat, "—why don't you love me? Even after all this time—why?" She scrambled up to a sitting positing, panting.
"Why?" he repeated in a harsher voice. "I don't have any answer for you. Get out of my office—now!" He stretched his arm and pointed at the door.
She stared at him wide-eyed, shock upon her face. "I need to know. Why don't you love me, Sasuke? I'll do anything for you. If I don't have you in my life, I—I have nothing! Is that not enough for you? Don't you see? I don't love anyone more than you," she spoke, her voice heavy under the weight of rage, lust, anguish: a violate mixture that was making it all spread inside her like a devastating shockwave from an explosion.
"You don't care about your family? You make me sick," he said, and his voice was a cold hiss as he wiped at his bleeding lip again. "Shame on you, Sakura. Shame on you." He looked at her with not an ounce of sympathy on his face.
She stared back, her face convulsing this time. "I'm not ashamed that I love you more than—" she stopped, and a whimper seeped from between the gritted teeth, "—m-more than anything! I've always loved you more than anything! Don't reject me. Don't deny me. Why do you keep breaking my heart—tell me? And then she wept her heart out, hiding her face in her hands for it shamed her.
Sasuke's face worked with emotion, and he felt anger bubble hotly in his throat. His eyes flashed rage when she stood up and fell forward to grasp his arms. "Sasuke, don't!" she pleaded and tightened her fingers around his. They shook in the grasp of emotions he thought to be weak. "Don't do this to me—you don't know how much I want you. You don't know!" She reached up to touch his face, but he pushed her hand away.
He bent his head down and whispered and his breath hit her damp forehead, "a treacherous woman like you who doesn't even care for her own flesh and blood is not worthy of anyone." He removed his fingers from her grasp and watched a wave of shock flow over her face. "Out," he repeated in anger.
Her shaky feet moved on their own and carried her out of the office. When she stepped outside, a storm greeted her battered senses. A throttled moan came from her throat, but it got lost under the rain that whipped about her. She stood in the storm, and it lashed her face raw. He did not love her—he did not love her, at all. What a fool she had been; and she wept, shaking all over.
"Soaking yourself in the rain would only make you ill," a voice came from behind her, and she turned around to find Itachi standing under the shed a few feet from her. "I suggest you get some rest. We have a mission in a couple of hours." In the cold rain, his face suggested nothing. He started walking and disappeared behind the buildings on the right.
He reminded her of Sasuke: the next best thing . . .
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EN: If you haven't guessed, then I've modified two dialogues to make this encounter "pseudo-canon": one is between Sasuke and Sakura at the end of part one (where she did state that she loved him more than everyone, including her parents) when he was about to leave the village; and the other one is from just before he left to fight with Naruto one last time; and, yes, in the Viz (official) translation, he really does say, "you really do make me sick."
Canon-Manga Info: Sakura has never been a speedster at any point in the manga; her performance in the War-arc also left much to be desired. After her battle with Sasori, she encountered Omoi and Karui (Kenjutsu experts and Killer Bee's students). Naruto's and Sai's performance against them was commendable whilst Omoi quickly over-powered Sakura in speed and landed a kick against her stomach, which threw her several metres back. Had Omoi been serious, he could've just as easily used his sword to strike a fatal blow. Granted, both of them are Bee's students, but she couldn't even make them draw back, let alone land a blow on them. (It should be kept in mind that Sasori took his own life; and had Chiyo not been controlling Sakura, she'd have died on the first strike from his puppet; yes, she did manage to hold her own at the end of the battle; however, in my eyes, it was too little, too late as Chiyo had taken care of nearly all of Sasori's puppets by then.)
In the War, lowly grunt Shinobi deflected spikes from the Jūbi. Sakura, on the other hand, was being lead around by Kakashi. It should be noted that Hinata is the slowest member in K-13, yet even she managed to deflect one. (I'm not suggesting that Hinata's faster than Sakura, but it's an interesting bit of observation.) When Kaguya shifted the dimension to that of the Lava one, Sakura wasn't fast enough to use basic tools to keep herself from falling. No, Kakashi managed that again whilst he kept himself and Obito safe. By comparison, Suigetsu is so much faster that it's insane; and Sasuke's astronomically faster (even in early Shippūden arcs) than Suigetsu. I hope, I've put my point across effectively.