Chapter Thirty-One: Just a Little Game
Canon-Manga Info: Read this chapter with a clean slate. Romantic Itachi doesn't exist in Canon-Manga: he's a product of Fan-Fiction logic and projection tropes this site is infamous for. The novels and fillers are Non-Canon—the novels were never included in the official timeline released with Boruto: The Movie nor did Kishimoto ever state that they were canon, unlike the current Boruto Manga; so whatever material you've read concerning Itachi on this site, kindly, leave it behind. (At best, you can claim that the novels' material that doesn't contradict Kishimoto's Manga is canon; and many aspects of Shinden are grossly non-canon such as Fugaku's Mangekyō Sharingan.)
Keep that in mind that Itachi had some nameless lovers (yes, according to the VIZ, official translation, he had more than one lover) during the events of the coup and massacre, and he killed them, too; furthermore, he never thought about any one of them or even mentioned one in passing. He showed no remorse for what he did (to his own parents and kin) other than admit that he failed Sasuke. It's clear that he simply went near his lover(s) to ease his worries since Obito mentioned that being a double-agent had turned his life upside down, and he was in a constant state of distress. Assuming anything more is just wishful-thinking that turns Itachi into a character that's Itachi in name only.
AN: Many people have misinterpreted this chapter, so I'm putting a warning here now. This chapter is soaked in a very specific kind of humour. What kind? You'd just have to figure it out.
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"We have another mission?" Itachi asked and fell into step beside Shisui.
Shisui smiled—sun hot on their skins and shade cool. Robust boughs, bearing stray touches of old Autumns, shook in the breeze. Autumn would soon be upon them, but the red-hot light from a Spring's sun waning burnt through their jackets and made them sweat profusely.
"We do," he said and wiped at his forehead. "It's a Training Mission with few young ones from the Genin Academy."
Itachi looked ahead, walking under the shades. Unlit lanterns swung from the boughs. Alongside the stone pathway, a stream, which spilt from between the gaps in the rocks, meandered its way to the trail's end and disappeared into a deep crevice in a sacred stone. The stream came from up in the mountains and bent sharply towards the river, its waters slow and lazy in the height of seasons, existing together like brothers, that did not know forgiveness.
"How long will it take?" he asked, his voice smooth and young.
Shisui laughed and turned his head to look at him. Itachi was a bit shorter than he. "Sasuke's asking you to play with him? He doesn't like sharing you, does he?" he asked, his eyes squinting under the sun.
"I promised him that I'll be back before dusk," he replied, shading his eyes. "If I don't make it back, he . . . he'll be unhappy." He created a smile on his face.
"I guess, we'll have to—" He could not quite say more as his foot sank into the uneven portion in the pathway, and a sharp needle went straight through the soft underside of his foot.
"Shisui-San, are you all right?" Itachi asked in a tense voice, grabbing hold of Shisui's arm to keep him from falling.
Shisui winced and sank down to the ground; then, with great difficulty, he pulled his foot out of the hole. His sandal was broken; the needle, still stuck inside his foot. "Good Sage! It went straight through my foot. What is this?" he grunted, pulled out the needle, looked at the hole in the path. "It looks like a trap . . . for something?"
Itachi bent his head down and looked into the hole: it was small and had a trap-mechanism to shoot a needle upwards. A wooden apparatus (now broken), a thread, and a tiny spring lay about at the bottom. "Someone must've left it there for an animal," Itachi said, tilted his head to look back at Shisui.
Shisui squeezed his right eye shut and grabbed his foot. Twisting his back a little, he bent forward and turned his foot into his eyes' focus. "Just a little wound—it isn't bleeding, though I don't think I'll be able to walk for a few days. It had a bit of chakra on top to damage the tissues," he said and picked up the needle and turned it around.
Itachi took the needle from his hand. It had traces of a familiar chakra on its tip, smeared with fresh red. He thrust it into his pocket and stood up. "Let me help you up," Itachi said and held out his hand.
Shisui took it and got to his feet. He favoured his left leg and kept the injured right foot above the ground. "I think I'll go to the infirmary and give the mission to someone else," he said and clamped his hand on Itachi's shoulder to steady himself.
"You're in no condition to walk by yourself." Itachi looked around and found Serizawa and Kai walking towards them. "You two, help Shisui-San. He's injured."
Both of them broke into a jog and stopped close to them. "What happened?" Serizawa asked and circled his arm around Shisui's waist.
"Nothing—just an animal trap. Someone had set it up in the path," Itachi explained and turned his head to the hole in the pathway. "He probably forgot about it."
Kai pulled the broken apparatus out of the hole and twisted his head to look up at Itachi. "This could've hurt a child. So careless," he whispered the last words and shoved his hand into the hole again to pull out the spring and the broken thread.
Itachi brought his eyes upon Serizawa. "Take him to the infirmary. There was chakra on the needle. It's almost gone now, but it could damage his foot," he said, looking at Serizawa as he nodded and walked away with Shisui.
"I'm taking this to the infirmary," Kai said and walked after them.
Itachi watched them till they turned a corner and disappeared behind a large house. Wind, spring's farewell, hit his sweat-soaked skin, and he raised his eyes to look at the rain-drunk clouds coming into the space overhead. It would rain soon. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the needle again. Residual chakra still existed on the tip, shimmering in the sallow lights: it was quite like his own; his Sharingan told him all!
He half-turned and saw a child's face slip back quickly behind the dense foliage about fifty feet away. He would recognise those rosiest plump cheeks and loveliest big eyes anywhere. He flashed behind the branches and grabbed the unsuspecting child from behind. The boy child let out a tiny squeak of surprise and jumped up in his arms.
"I caught you, Sasuke," Itachi whispered in his ear, knelt down, and turned Sasuke around.
Sasuke rubbed at his right eye with that small fist, his face splitting into the broadest smile, his tiny breast expanding with indrawn breaths. "Nii-San, you're staying?" he breathed out in the happiest voice, and his face like lilies bloomed in excitement.
Itachi brushed the sweaty hair from Sasuke's eyes. "I have to—now that you left that trap in the path for Shisui-San," he said, a smile flickering upon his lips, and carefully wiped away, with his thumb, a smudge of dirt on Sasuke's white brow.
Sasuke frowned and sucked his cheek in. "He doesn't let you play with me—takes you 'way. I don't like it. It's not fair!" he complained, a red colour of anger most bright in his most lovely face.
"He could've been hurt. That's not nice," he said gently and cupped Sasuke's cheek, "you know that, don't you?"
"He's mean, and—and—" he stopped, and his face twisted into a look of concentration, "—it was just a little game! Nii-San—Nii-San! You know what he said? He said I can't make traps 'cause I'm four. I showed him!" He made his eyes bigger and raised his tiny knuckle into the air and shook it. Itachi had an urge to pinch his cheeks, but he realised that it was hardly something to congratulate him on.
"Making traps is a dangerous pastime for a little boy. I can't be here all the time to watch over you. What if you get hurt? Sasuke, don't do this again," he said, his voice soft and sweet.
Sasuke stared down at the ground, his small feet dirty from all the dust and dirt about him. He was not even wearing any sandals. "Am I a pest to you, Nii-San?" he asked suddenly, the expression on his face melting into a look of complete sadness.
"Of course not. Why would you say that?" he asked and lifted Sasuke's chin up. "You know that's not true."
Sasuke averted his gaze, his tiny pink mouth quivering now. His big black eyes misted over that he looked on the verge of tears. "You don't stay with me. You go 'way. You don't play with me. You're my only brother. Not fair, Nii-San—not fair," he protested in such a small voice that it barely made it to Itachi's ears.
"Sasuke," Itachi sighed out and bent his head a little to look at Sasuke's face losing its white colour under the thinnest shadow, which he cast upon him. A misty smile played about Itachi's lips. "I'd never do that on purpose. I always try my best, but you know how busy I am. I promise I'll make it up to you over the weekend."
Sasuke lifted his head. The joyful expression returned to his face, decorating his cheeks with reds of happiness. "You promise?" he asked and tiptoed to put his tiny hands on Itachi's shoulders.
"I promise," he assured, "but you'll have to apologise to Shisui-San. You're a good boy, aren't you?"
With the greatest anger a child his age could muster, Sasuke twisted his cheek again. "I don't want to. He's mean. He does it 'cause he's mean. He knows I love you!" he protested, with a subtle twist of his mouth, and nodded his head.
Itachi smiled in response, feigning surprise. "Oh, you love me?" he asked, pinching Sasuke's cheek and looking at the return of the lighter mood, which fell over him and danced in his eyes like fires.
"I do! I love you the most—more than Otō-Sama and Okā-San—more. I'll do anything for you!" he said with confidence and a big smile, bouncing on the spot as if to make a point. His hands were up in the air to show Itachi how big and vast his love was.
"But you won't apologise?" Itachi asked, and his smile widened as he saw the look of realisation on Sasuke's face.
"No fair—you tricked me!" he said and pulled away; he looked a little hurt.
"I didn't," he began and pulled Sasuke closer, "but if you love me, you won't do this small thing for me?" He looked into Sasuke's eyes, a smile still lingering on his young face.
Sasuke rolled his eyes as if deep in thought and then looked back at him with an expression of innocent resignation. "Okay," he said and emitted a deep sigh, "but only 'cause you asked, and only 'cause I love you." He pulled an angry face again, pouting.
"You're a good boy, Sasuke. Such a good boy. Come on, let me take you home," he said and wrapped his arms round Sasuke. Squeezing Sasuke to his breast, he stood up and started walking against the breeze that blew down on them from the clouds.
Sasuke reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "I made this, Nii-San. Do you like it?" he asked and held up a silver necklace.
Itachi stopped and took it from his hand. "You made this yourself?" he asked and passed his thumb over the silver rings.
Sasuke nodded excitedly. "I couldn't give it to you on your twelfth birthday, but old man, Kora, helped me for three months. So I made it!" he told Itachi, his voice filled with wonder.
"The blacksmith?" he asked, looking from the necklace to Sasuke's eyes glinting with warmth.
Sasuke nodded again. "You like it, Nii-San? I can make it better if you don't," he said and curled his plump arms around Itachi's neck.
"No, Sasuke, it's beautiful. Thank you," he said and brushed his lips against Sasuke's brow.
Sasuke leant his head against his breast and closed his eyes . . .
Itachi blinked and the dirty window of Rice Village's guest-room greeted him. Another memory faded away, together with his sighs. "Just a little game," he whispered and touched the necklace still draped around his neck. Rain fell down hard into the ground outside. Earth smelt heavy and damp. He felt the odours creep up into his nostrils, and he breathed in softly, closing his eyes. "Just a little game."
"Itachi-Sama?" a voice said from behind him.
He turned around and brought his gaze upon Sakura; and, immediately, she lowered her eyes, and a warm blush rose to her cheeks. It was easy to trap this one. Had he been a lesser man, he would have laughed when no eyes would see, no ears would hear, no one would bear witness to his tricks; but he was above all that—secretive, hard, cold. He did not celebrate his victories that way. No, he relished the feel of triumph that delighted his heart's beats. It was a delicious feeling, fleeting, yet powerful . . .
Laying traps and catching prey was something he knew well, his mind awash with many possibilities and schemes; and he loved to put them to the test, watch as the unsuspecting prey landed there and bloodied itself with needless struggle. It was always humane to put it out of its misery.
Few soft expressions and a deliberate brush of his chakra. . . that was all it took? After that, all he had to do was push her towards Sasuke. Itachi knew his brother would not be kind: she came on strong, and he rejected her brutally. What a sweet child—Itachi loved and adored him so for being an easy read.
The muscles around his mouth desired to twitch, but he ignored it, ignored the very nature of Man to enjoy what he found amusing. He walked around the chair and sat down on it. Slipping one leg over the other, he looked at her . . . and she shivered.
"What else have you found?" he asked and moved his hand to grab the hilt of his sword, leant against the chair.
Sakura gulped down the damp air in the room and looked down at the scroll again. "The poison was from a bird found in the forests around Cloud. Its wings are poisonous. The bird's also found in other areas—close to the mountains that make the southern border of Rain, and—" she broke off quite suddenly, "—and I-I couldn't find anything on the ninjas. They could be rogues. I don't know." She raised her eyes and peered through the curtain of messy hair.
"Unfortunate," he sighed and held out his hand. "Give that to me." He wore a blank face, his eyes colder than she remembered, and her heart could not bear to look at him any longer. He made their encounter seem trivial, pointless. Did she really lay with this man? She pressed her lips into a thin line, her cheeks sweaty as she took one step and placed the scroll in his hand.
Itachi curled his fingers around it and extended his arm to put it on the table on his right. Then he turned his face up to her, his eyes still empty and without a touch of anything soft. Sakura did not know what possessed her, but she took in an odorous breath and bent down a little, her green eyes overshadowed by lust.
Memories of last night came crashing towards her. The feel of him inside her channel . . . it was exquisite, wild, nearly divine; so what if he was cold? She was bold enough to pursue him! She could smell the scent of his breaths on her lips, so close and so warm: it was cold iron on fire. Her lips were but an inch away from his when he parted his mouth to speak: "are you trying to play with me?" The exhalation fell upon her lips and the strangest sensations channelled through her body.
As if his question startled her, she swiftly pulled back and stood a few feet from him. Her gaze fell desperately on his face and the subtlest smile dancing deliciously upon his lips now. He looked . . . quite amused. "I would not recommend this," he remarked, tilting his head a bit to the left; and, suddenly, his eyes were cunning, red.
Moments passed, and, as Sakura crossed a span of five heartbeats, she sucked in the stale air loudly and looked him in the eye and her skin tingled under his gaze that was intense. "Why? You slept with me yesterday. It isn't polite to forget," she said, her voice bold, unwavering, her face resolute that wore that heated expression upon it, like an unsightly red stain on a white Anbu-Jacket.
Itachi looked at her for moments that seemingly lingered. He had that faint look of mockery on his face now—something only he could create in that manner. "I have not forgotten anything. I can assure you, my memory is remarkable. I simply indulged you with a show, for you wanted it. Is that not true?" he asked, letting the smile overpower his urge to remain emotionless.
"I did," she retorted, breathing louder and feeling bolder with each word, "there's nothing wrong with that. You didn't refuse me, either."
Itachi straightened in his chair, and his gaze slid over to her lips that shivered in response, as if touched by something real and hot. "Of course, it is not a sin to want another. I just believe you to be too young, too inexperienced to try and pursue me."
Sakura sniffed at the air again, hearing the drumming sounds of rain on the corrugated metal-roof. Smells from earth rushed at her, and she breathed in again to cool her senses. She took that cold gaze head-on. "I'm only four years younger than you—don't treat me like a child," she said, her loud voice falling down to a sharp hiss, her face overtaken by a grim look of anger and a bright red blush.
"Few years can be a lifetime. You truly are very young to know how intricate and dangerous sex can be. It can be sinister, exquisite, soft even . . . if I allow myself moments of fancy," Itachi spoke, his voice unexpectedly deep in her ears, and his eyes changed their outward appearance like a playful chameleon: one moment they looked clever, the next, hollow and dangerous.
Lightning whipped the sky, and the underbelly of clouds burnt blue. The floor beneath her sandals creaked and squeaked, but she did not break the contact of their eyes. "What was it to you?" she asked harshly, her face working feverishly with anger.
"Ah, that interests you?" he asked, an uncaring smile upon his lips and that white face that showed a refined red hue, a gift from Autumn. "Perhaps to satisfy your curiosity, for you whispered my brother's name as though in a dream?"
The angry expression disappeared from her face and shame came into her eyes. She shivered. "I . . . I . . . " She lost her voice and tore her eyes away from his.
"Do not be shy," he went on, pulling her eyes up with the power of his strangest voice, "the next best things can be exciting." He pulled the sword onto his lap and turned it around in his hands.
"You don't have to mock me. You didn't refuse me, and now look at you? Taking the higher ground! You brothers—you're the same—cold and cruel!" she said, her words shaky, and suppressed the tears on the verge of escaping.
His arm twitched a little, a reflex action, and suddenly the sword's tip was moving up between her naked legs, slowly. Her skin trembled as the cold edge dragged along the tiny hairs. "Do not move, or you will cut yourself," Itachi whispered whilst he moved the sharp-end higher and higher till it touched the hem of the short-skirt and the swell of her inner thigh.
Sakura's eyes widened, spine tingling, and a sudden rush struck her core. She looked down and hissed as the tip cut into her skin. He pulled the sword back with a quick movement of his hand; then he shook it once to throw away a tiny spider and a single drop of blood clinging to its tip. "I told you not to move. Now, you have cut yourself. You are clumsy," he spoke as he leant the sword against the table.
She kept staring at him, the character of her features harsh under the assault of shame and anger. When she did not say anything, he spoke again: "what do you want, Sakura? Do you want me to take you sweetly on the floor, push you unkindly against the wall, or bend you quickly over this table in a wanton manner? You seem to be in a mood to play. Though I must warn you, I do not want to dirty my clothes in this filthy place."
His words created a sting on her skin . . . and it hurt. "Is that all it was to you, an—an act? A habit?" she asked, shocked.
He merely smiled. "You are surprised? It is not a prayer from the Sage's holy teachings. I call it a habitual release of social pressures. A mere spill after the high. Nothing more," he paused, and his eyes brightened under the shroud of something she could not understand, "you think it to be some delightful folktale passion. I do not."
Sakura's breath hitched in her breast, her eyes wide aghast. She felt denuded before him, spread wide open like an eager lover. The shame was too much. Her lips shuddered and she snarled, "you don't know anything about me. You know nothing!"
Itachi moved his eyes to the dark grimy scroll-books in the rotting shelf on the left. For a moment, disgust attacked his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as a flash of light. He returned his gaze to her and something in his eyes changed. "You cherish it—an act of liberation for you. That is something I know of your young mind. I wonder," he broke off, thinking, "is that what compelled you to reach out to me? Foolish girl, yet you believe you have gained such wisdom as you are only four years younger than I?"
"Stop!" she screamed, and her voice carried over wind's roars and lightning's lashes. Her body shook all over. The anger had become unbearable to contain behind that careless mask on her face.
Itachi's eyes grew stranger, and they made her soul shiver. "Lower your voice," he warned, his voice icier than the wind outside, "do not forget that you are speaking to me. I will not abide this behaviour because you were entertained." Then his face morphed back into expressionlessness, and he spoke no more.
Sakura's anger subsided to a longing, and she quieted her loud breaths. "I know you'll be married in the future. All Clan-Heads are. Is that what you'll think of your wife—someone to repeat an act with?" she asked, her mouth trembling.
He considered her for a moment and spoke, "is that what they teach you at home—fancy ideas of the one? Marriage is done for many reasons. Love is a hopeless dream between strangers, not a necessity for marriages. Life is not a few inky words on a folktale scroll you love." Then he fixed her with a disinterested gaze. "Are you satisfied with the answer? Your curiosity in my would-be wife is . . . astounding."
"Sasuke, he—he really takes a lot after you—he's just like you!" she finally burst out loudly, unburdening herself of the words she had in store for him.
Quite delicately, Itachi pressed the back of his fingers to his lips, closed his eyes, and his breast shook with the flutter of suppressed laughter. "Does my honesty wound your heart?" he asked, unable to keep a little quiver of amusement from his flat tone, and looked upon her. "Do you want me to admonish Sasuke for he seeks pleasure? He is a boy. I want him to enjoy life.
"Rest assured, women flock to him—many of them. I will not demean him for that. Should I belittle him for enjoying pleasure?"
She could not force out a single word from her mouth, so he continued: "Sasuke is not a patient child. He does not enjoy the company of anyone who displeases him. Even a little. Women come and go—they hope to change his heart. They interfere in his affairs, and he cuts them loose. He has always been this way—as long as I can remember, and I remember every moment of his childhood as though it were yesterday.
"When he was a little child, he abandoned the toys that he himself broke. He would never touch them again. They lay neglected in the shadows till Tanaka would pick up the pieces and throw them away. He would never ask for them. He would forget them as though he never played with them, held them in his little hands. It came as easy to him as smiling. Sweet boy. Honest. Once he has his heart made, he does not change it. It is in his nature. If I am honest with you, I have never triumphed in this task, either."
Sakura stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears now. "You don't think it's wrong that he—" she choked out, grasping at her breast as though it pained her, "—he doesn't care about anyone? That he doesn't—"
"—care for you?" Itachi spoke before she could put her thoughts into words, and it took her breath away. "Why be so dishonest and weave yarns when you can speak the truth? I find this whole thing strange, Sakura. I will not punish him for something so unimportant. He loves, yet he does not love you. Do you want me to force him to? You ask for something I will never do."
"You," she began, feeling as if her voice was leaving her, and she felt weak, struggling unsuccessfully to keep herself calm, "you're the reason why he's like this! Selfish. Cold. He doesn't care for anyone but you! Why did you do this to him? Why?"
Slowly, Itachi rose to his feet, and his face hardened, an unyielding stone beneath a cascade. "You do not know my brother. You pursue him blindly out of wild lust. He is but an object to you—an object you frantically want to possess. You are distressed, for you cannot have him. Your frenzy is what led you to come to me. Tell me something, what do you know of him? Why do you love him?" he asked in a heavy tone, and his face came under the shadows, his body a dangerous silhouette before her against the dull lights behind his back.
"I don't need a reason to love him. You wouldn't understand," she bit out and gritted her teeth. The lust she felt for him was a hurting pain in her body now.
"Ah," he breathed out, "but you are so arrogant to assume that I do not love. What you feel for him is not real, and you will perish once it wounds you to your core. Do not say I never warned you."
"What are you—" she stopped and staggered back, her face ashen, her eyes wide, coloured with tinges from terror.
"I am cautioning you. Lights do not reach the roots beneath the ground. Whatever gets trapped there, wriggles and dies in their grasp—but, sometimes, an opportunity comes by. A miracle occurs and someone digs up a passage to allow that animal to escape. If it chooses to stay, the roots become its grave. How unlucky for that prey in a trap . . . it does not see the signs," he spoke and smiled and watched her expression subtly change into a look of confusion.
"I don't understand. I . . . " she let out a tiny whisper, looking defeated.
Itachi did not entertain her with an explanation and resumed that creaking chair again. "Prepare the final report. We will leave here in an hour," he commanded. She looked hesitant at first, but eventually nodded and left the room in silence.
Once she left, he leant his head back and listened to the wind's soft sounds and the rain's pattering against the cracked walls. His thoughts went back to Sasuke. Did he really pay a band of thugs to poison the emissary? He closed his eyes and sighed. He needed Itachi out of his affairs for a day or two, and he managed just that.
Sasuke wanted to go to Mist, and he allowed him. Serizawa and Kai would be so foolish to guess his games. "You child," he whispered out his words, quite softly, looking at his warm breath hanging in the air, "you still enjoy these little games? You still want your brother to figure them out?" He felt the chill of breeze on his back, and the fine hairs quivered on his neck. "Your brother is weary, and if it is just a little game, it needs to end now."
And for him, everything became silent . . .
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