Chapter Forty-Four: Cherry Blossoms in Roots
Canon Manga-Info: References to Sasuke's Intelligence and canon workings of Tsukuyomi have been made before.
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It was a cold, cold morning, mist beginning to disperse in the autumn sun's weak light. Her green eyes could barely see. She was not Sasuke: she did not have his Sharingan. She was jogging towards the edge of the forest. They said that purple lilies grew there. It would be an enchanting site!
She gained speed, eager to reach the edge, but began to fatigue and slow down. She was not a very fast runner. Sasuke would be angry at the trials again. She thought of him so suddenly. Her smile faded, breaths quickening and getting louder as she tried to quell the rising tornado of her thoughts. He was always upset with her; it was always something small. She realised that he wanted her gone . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears run down her cheeks. The tears were warm, and, touched by cold, they bit into her skin. It was as unkind as Sasuke. His heart was without mercy and pity for her. Suddenly, the breath ached in her tight lungs and throat and she began to tremble. She felt cold and empty.
Feelings rushed into her. She did not know what name she should give them: lust? Love? Hate? It exploded into a wonderful sensation in the deepest, littlest part of her soul, and it crushed her mortal coil into a needy submission she knew to be all too familiar. A delicious torment shot straight to her heart, wounding it beautifully, slicing deep there—a knife and a hand that knew no remorse.
The pain . . . it rattled her flesh and bones—that fierce hatred and indignation shifting to a hurting, slow rise in lust. She could feel her flesh ache with want again. It was in her bones, pulsing in her veins, throbbing in her heart, burning her there—violent. Oh, how she loathed this feeling now. How empty it was. How endlessly . . . unsatisfying it was.
All it did was make her weak and strip her mortal flesh away for him to peek into her heart and laugh to his heart's content. She had made herself into an object of his mockery. The tears stung and coursed her red cheeks and dripped off the tip of her chin. They burnt, telling her tales, her anger and shame. If only . . . if only she could tear free from the hold he had on her. Why was it so impossible?
She blinked, ridding herself of more tears which sat sparkling in her eyes. The thought struck her simple mind to seek answers. There she wandered, peered deep into the darkness that stood about like custodians before the secrets' doors. There was nothing to see. Nothing to do. She had submitted her mind and body to him a long time ago.
She did not need any reason to love him. She had reasoned back then. How foolish had she been? The thought shook her pride, and a sob stole up her throat. It hurt—it hurt so much to be foolish. Why had she never crafted another reason—a reason that she would chase him if he loved her, even just a little, too?
He never looked back at her. He avoided her gaze and fled the heavy stare of her eyes, turned wicked by lust's teeth. He treated her like a plague that would taint him if he touched, soil him if he got closer, wound his tongue if he ever forced himself to speak a sweet word for her. Pitiful, so pitiful. She would find a reason for this love. She had to . . . she gritted her teeth, pressed her hand to her mouth, and swallowed the sobs before they struck the air, shaming her more.
She preserved her pride just a little and rejected the feeling of self-pity conquering her mind. She had a bit of power now. It would make him submit. His knees would buckle, and he would cringe like a peasant in prayer. The Uchiha daemons. She would break the older one, and the younger one would have nothing to shield him—wings of a crow. He spread them wide and they cast darkness upon her mind. They would lose their disquieting, terrifying feathers, fall off, and wither away. She would take revenge upon them and shred and rip the wings, with false might, and see him fall.
Wings of a Devil in the dark . . . his whispers were that of a daemon. His tongue was slippery and cunning like a daemon's. He was a daemon: his fluttering spirit, so completely shackled to the younger one. She did not think he even had an existence beyond him. A spectre—he roamed obsessively about the younger one to protect him from all the wicked Men in the world. A trickster that wore disguises to fool them all. He did not fool her.
Her jaw set in anger, fingers clenching into fists, and despair and disgust danced. She had fallen on him to seek refuge from the younger one's influence, but he humiliated her. Perhaps she would wound the younger one and watch as he would wallow in despair when he would not be able to protect him. A tremble of a smile told her tale. Her eyes were more honest. Yes, she would break the younger one. He was already snared in schemes. How long would he elude the spider's webs? The more he would wriggle, the more helpless his fate . . . their fall was inevitable, and it would be glorious and bloody!
Her eyes caught sight of Tsunade standing close to the edge, and she stopped abruptly, slipping on the soft ground. She caught her balance before she fell full length on her face; the sound made Tsunade turn. The sunlight shone in her eyes and softened the colour there. She smiled. "It's a lovely morning, Sakura," she said and turned around. "I was just asking Itachi what he thought of the forest at this time of the year, but he's too sober for such frankness."
Sakura took slow steps and tried to catch her breath, her face red from running. She stopped as her eyes fell upon Itachi. He was standing with his back to the tree. His arms were crossed, and his back was unnaturally straight. Even the pallid morning light did not soften his features. His skin was too white, unnatural in the light. She thought he looked odd as if he had not soaked up the sun in years. Maybe he really was a daemon!
He was looking to his left. It did not seem as though he had even acknowledged her presence. Her eyes narrowed, and she felt a bit of anger in her. She looked away, preferring to see her mentor's kind face.
"I will see you in my office at the scheduled time, Itachi," she said to him. He merely uncrossed his arms and walked off towards Konoha. His expression was unreadable save a prideful glint in his eyes. He vanished after walking for a few feet. So fast . . . like a blur; no, a foreboding, evil shadow moving through the air.
She did not desire to see more of him. His face filled her with Sasuke's memories and the shame he brought her. She put her hand to her breast, her breaths finally evening out. The haze of anger and fear cleared from her eyes, and she focused them on the lilies. The shadows were still deep in some places across the valley, but the flowers bloomed fair; and, smiling in shadows, lilies grew about trees.
She inhaled deeply, and the fragrance filled her with such warmth. Tsunade smiled at her and rushed down the cliff. She, too, created the same smile and followed her. Her feet did not falter as wind rushed at her from behind. It was cold upon her flesh that it made her more aware of the blood running hotly in her body.
Sakura's heart took to racing, its beats loud. She finally jumped and stood straight and held her breath to cool her senses, her heart drumming in her ears. She looked about and felt that the sunrise and the strong sunlight made the lilies brighter. They smelt of him; so unreal . . . it was as if she could grasp him. She wanted to trip towards them like a little girl and pluck a few.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tsunade asked and pulled in a deep breath. She was looking off into the distance. Another great forest lay beyond the hills.
Sakura looked around. The air was cool and sweet-smelling. The shrunken river made nary a sound: it would swell again in spring and summer. "Purple Lilies are so peculiar," she began again and Sakura looked at her face as she turned around. "Petals' Shedder is what they call it. It's an immortal flower. It never dies—strange that no season can kill it."
Tsunade's smile widened, and then it turned to a pleasant laugh. "It can also be used to kill," she said, and a soft laugh rippled through her voice. "An immortal flower that kills, too—strange, don't you think?" And she was looking at her, and Sakura was looking down. She kept sneaking a gaze back. She did not want to meet her mentor's lovely eyes. They would denude her, make her spill truth against her will.
Moments passed and sweat beaded on the back of Sakura's neck. The air around her smelt like sweat now. She bent down and settled herself amongst the flowers, her eyes bent on the Purple Lilies that hid amidst many other flowers and swayed in the breeze. The flowers' many shadows proved to their refuge from the sun, which was stronger this morning. It was quiet; silence had fallen on the valley. The river did not even sigh like a sleeping babe.
"Why did you make a poison out of this flower, Sakura?" she asked, searching out her eyes that flit stubbornly from one well-hidden lily to another like a proverbial pink moth.
Sakura dragged her eyes up to meet her gaze. There was revulsion in the green depths, but it was softened with sadness and love. "I don't know," she replied softly, her mouth drawn down in a trembling bow. Her eyes began to stream out scalding tears. They burnt her like they always did. The shame made her bend her head down even more; her shoulders stiffened and then they stooped; she wanted to hide her face.
"Did Danzō ask you to choose this flower?" Tsunade asked and moved towards her. Sakura only heard the rustling of dry grass; she did not raise her head to look back at her.
Sakura shook her head and moved the back of her shaky hand across her eyes. She held back the prickly tears that threatened to erupt and tried hard to control the trembling shaking her body like a dried-up Sakura flower.
"Then why? Why would you choose this flower when you know it's Sasuke's favourite?" Tsunade asked, and her voice died in the valley's vastness quickly. There was a sad tone to her voice. She could not quite hide it the way she had intended.
"I just—" Sakura stopped and clenched her trembling fingers into fists upon her thighs, "—I wanted something that would allow me to break free." She raised her head with a sharp jerk—her face warped in sadness and anger. There was such anguish in her gaze that Tsunade did not know what to say.
"I w-wanted something that would free me from him," she said in a shaky, loud voice and pulled herself up to her feet that did not have enough will to support her quivering frame. "I'm his prisoner. I've tried and I-I've tried, but I can't seem to let go of this feeling, this need I feel for him. It shames me. How can he punish me for this?" Her breath had hitched in a broken sob, and she hissed with an unseen pain that tore her body apart.
Tsunade could only stare, eyes wide open. The sadness on her face had given way to shock. Her lips, sealed-tight on her fair face. The cold wind did not seem to bother her as it stubbornly pressed against her face like flies. She did not even know it was there.
"He isn't fair. He's never fair to me!" she said loudly and her angry words echoed in the broad valley. "He hurts me. He loves to hurt me. Taunt me. When all I've ever asked him was a bit of his love. Is that too m-much to ask?" Her fists were shaking. Her face was shaking. Her whole body was shaking. Anger had completely consumed her.
"Sakura, you . . . " she said softly, and then she could say no more. Her lower lip trembled with emotion, and grief came into her eyes and face. Sakura was like a daughter to her, and to see her like this was tormenting her. She looked at the soft pink hair whipping around her face. Her cheeks and nose were the colour of her hair. Tears streaked her face, and she wore her emotions for all to see. She looked . . . sad, and there was nothing she could do for the girl she thought to be her daughter.
"I'm tired of him rejecting me over and over again. I just wanted his love—a bit of his heart. He couldn't even give me a bit of his time, a little kindness that would be enough to fool me that he—that he—" Her voice balked and great wrenching sobs took over. She pressed her shaking fingers to her lips and squeezed her eyes tight, letting the last bit of tears, still standing in her eyes, flow down her cheeks unopposed.
Tsunade clenched her teeth. She wanted to weep. She pitied her. "You foolish girl," she hissed; her shoulders shook from suppressing her tears, but she did not let them materialise in her eyes. She was stronger than that. "You're going to kill yourself over this boy. Why are you doing this to yourself? I don't understand you. How much more have you done for Danzō so that you can exact your revenge upon him?"
Sakura looked at her with emptiness in her eyes and a little bit of shock she could not conceal. "I'm not—"
"Don't lie to me," Tsunade cut her off, angry. "Don't be a fool. If Itachi catches wind of this, he will kill you without remorse, and I will never even know about it. Don't expect anything less from him. You can't even hope to outwit Sasuke, let alone Itachi. Doesn't it scare you—this foolish side of yourself? You're walking off to your own death. Don't do this. Don't be so foolish. I love you, Sakura. I love you so much—like I've never loved another. I brought you up like a daughter. Don't repay me so unkindly."
Sakura bit her lower lip and stared down to her feet. In distress, she had trampled on few lilies. They were dead, and she felt a bit of satisfaction at their fate. The immortal flower was mortal once more. "I love him so much," she said, her voice a whisper, "so much that it—it hurts, but I hate him just the same. He's unkind to me. He wouldn't even lose anything if he gave me some of his moments, but he doesn't care. He just doesn't care. He's so selfish and cruel."
Tsunade was silent; her heart, a loud gong. Sakura had slipped far into the darkness of her heart. Why did she never see it? Her breast grew tighter and tighter till she felt that she could not even breathe. If Sakura did anything foolish, Itachi would kill her. If she pulled her back from Danzō so quickly, he would kill her. A wave of helplessness crashed over her and she wanted to let out a desperate cry. What should she do to help her—what?
"I made the poison to set myself free. Deep down, I wanted him dead so that I could be free," she said, anguish hitting her raw; her eyes filled with torment, and they cut Tsunade's heart in two. "As long as he lives like he does now, I can never be free. He isn't fair. He just . . . isn't fair." Her eyes dropped to the flowers again, and she spoke no more.
The mentor closed her eyes. Her heart was crashing violently against the lungs. It struggled as it felt a burden pressing down upon it, crushing it without kindness. She breathed in cool breaths and a thought came to her. It calmed that raging, wild heart, and it began to beat with a pace that was bearable for her.
"Go and do your missions," she spoke suddenly, without looking at Sakura. Her eyes were looking up. Sun had ensconced itself in the sky: the ritualistic climb was complete. "I will see you tomorrow."
Sakura looked back at her reluctantly, but she did not say anything. She bowed dutifully before the mentor she loved and ran out of the valley, still carrying the same thoughts in her mind . . .
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Night had fallen. It happened routinely. Shadows advanced quietly like shinobi, and a crow cawed nastily outside the window. It distracted her eyes for a moment. Itachi . . . made her afraid.
"Continue, Sakura," Toruné said, standing beside Danzō. He sat in a large chair shrouded in shadows. He liked to sit like this. Root's leader was a strange old man.
The crow cawed one more time and flew away. The loud sound lingered and trailed off like a whine, and then it vanished. She pulled her eyes away from the window and looked down at the report. "The Yamanaka Sensor examined him. He found nothing out of the ordinary. His bones were broken at several places. He suffered a terrible accident. It was like everything the Anbu Captain suggested," she said and fell silent and her eyes still tried to determine which expression he wore today, but it was impossible to tell.
Danzō drew in a shaky breath. The cold wind did not suit him in old age. He gestured Toruné to close the window and he obliged. "I wonder how he sustained them . . . " he spoke and breathed in through his nose, and his sagging cheeks puffed out as though he was preparing himself to whistle. "You can leave, Sakura." The moon dipped a bit, and she saw his aged lips moving in the dark.
Sakura bowed and made to turn, but she stopped. She looked back to him with something of a fearful look in her eyes and face. "Might I ask something?" she asked and lowered her eyes to the floor. It was a little dusty, and the wood was a little old. She did not know why he preferred to sit there close to the window when he got it closed without much thought. She thought that he wanted to look at the clear sky at night, but she was not sure of this thought.
He straightened in his chair and nodded, his eyes closing with a calm heaviness. Time had made him feel its presence through the years. Sakura inhaled a deep and full breath, her heart beating fast, and she smelt the wood-smoke smell that rose up like vapours in the room. It was probably a special kind of chakra-infused wood. "Can't Itachi be cornered to get Sasuke's eyes?" she asked and immediately lowered her eyes again as if she had spoken of something unthinkable.
"Itachi is content with the Uchiha fate, and with the backing of the accursed Fire's Councilmen, he holds a lot of power, within and without the Clan. It is not possible to snare him without Sasuke," he spoke in a rough, heavy voice, his hand trembling upon the tip of that crooked walking stick. It looked nothing more than a thick branch he had cut some extra twigs off. "It is the younger one who is restless. Mei contacts him. Fū disappears . . . I can see it in his eyes."
"But, Naruto, he—" she fell silent and pressed her lips together with worry.
"The seals you have been given simply test his eyes' strength," he spoke and fisted his hand over the tip more firmly—the talk of Sasuke's eyes made him impatient. "It is not meant to harm Naruto. He is resilient as a vessel. He will not die."
Sakura peered at him through the pink hairs. They clung to the cold sweat on her skin. "He attacked Hinata last time. It's getting worse. I don't understand. You said Naruto won't get hurt!" she said in an anxious voice that came out a little louder. The man in the shadows made her afraid.
"Why would I harm the vessel of the essence, you foolish girl?" he spoke and created an odd sort of smile, and she saw a row of even teeth peeking out of his sagging mouth. "Sasuke is a treacherous boy. The Uchiha are treacherous by nature. They harmed the vessel last time. Your mentor was a council member back then. She, Hiruzen, and Shikaku buried it under many lies, but it does not change their treachery. If he is capable of controlling the beast, he needs to be dealt with. Such power should never belong to traitors."
The wind shushed outside, and her gaze wandered a little towards the window again. "The just demise of his Clan's branch has only fueled his hate," he spoke, and his words dragged her green eyes back to him again. "I have heard whispers from Anbu that he disobeys his brother these days. The older one protects him well. He needs to slip a little, and I will dismantle his mind to reveal his secrets. He killed my loyal subordinate. He cannot be forgiven!" He breathed heavily with emotions.
Sakura peered into the dark that glutted all about him. Fū was Ino's familiar and her cousin. She was hurt by his death. Ino was her childhood friend. Thinking, she sucked in a breath through her teeth. She loved him, but she resented his cruelty more. Her resolve was made. "What will be his fate?" she asked and put her hand to her breast. Her heart was fluttering pitifully at her cold decision to pay him back.
Danzō exhaled. The sound of his laboured breath was loud. Sweat dripped in beads across his forehead, his right eye dilating in the dark. Something had made him excited, but it was too much for his old age to savour it fully. "The eyes will be taken from him, and his monstrous chakra will be sealed away," he spoke and saw a little shock run across her face, and in her mind, he stumbled across her memories. "The Uchiha will be disgraced. Anyone who shielded him will pay the price. Compensation for such terrible crimes will be enormous. They will get a pardon for the strength of Konoha's military, but Itachi will have no choice but to oust the boy from the Clan."
"Will he really sell out his own brother? He appears to hold him very dear," she said, her heart starting to beat, crescendoing to a loud staccato—a terrible broken instrument. Her eyes were wide. Could she make Sasuke hers this way? The mere thought of this possibility was thrilling!
He let out a subdued laugh that had just a touch of greed and cunning. "Itachi has but one weakness, and he likes keeping it close to his breast. That is all. As long as his weakness is not touched, he obeys without condition. He will keep the beloved toy in his possession—as long as it functions. He will not care what the boy loses to stay alive. He is very a peculiar man," he spoke and placed the full weight of his hand upon the stick. It trembled, but he managed to raise himself to his feet. "If Sasuke is crushed, Itachi will be defeated, as well. If the young hawk falls, the devious crow will not be that far behind. He will be thrown out of the Council—a fitting end for his cunning ways."
A slow smile trembled on her lips. A defeated Sasuke? A helpless Sasuke? A Sasuke without his pride and Sharingan that he always used to reject her? It was a dream come true! Her eyes sparkled as shock assaulted her mind. It was surreal to be in a position to grasp such a wonderful dream where Sasuke would be bound to her, always. Her fingers trembled upon her heaving breast. Words could not even trip from her tongue to tell him of how she felt. She had not felt this happy since she first saw him in the Chūnin Academy!
She would force that innocence upon him, which he had discarded long ago just to play games: the innocence that would be free of his pride. Without his toys, he would come to love her, cherish her, thank her that she had shouldered his nature for years in hopes that he would return her yearnings someday. She would save him from his own darkness. If that was all it took, then so be it!
The loud sound from a crow tried to distract Sakura again, but she did not hear it, heed the warning she thought it gave her. At this moment, the darkness was beautiful . . .
The sound of another crow invaded her thoughts. She was distracted for a moment, a cup of sake in her hand. She took a generous sip of it and put it back on the large table, her cheeks a little pink from intoxication. She directed her eyes back to his. He had not taken his Sharingan out.
"I need your help," she spoke, her brown eyes hard and determined. "Sasuke could have been interrogated more, but I protected him. It is your turn to stay true to your promises."
He did not say anything. He was quiet. His eyes turned red, and she knew that his Sharingan answered her. "Times are hard," she began, inching closer to him. "It is difficult to find trust in our government. Danzō has sympathisers everywhere. If he is not stopped, he would take advantage of us all."
He dragged his eyes up and down over her. He measured her like he measured all. "Is that all you desire?" he asked and created a barest smile she could not notice in the dark. The shadows clung to him like hopeful women; they did not seem to, want to, part from him for now.
Tsunade's smile changed to a soft laugh, and she placed her hand to his cheek and felt the smoothness of his skin. It shocked her for the first time that how young he was. "I have seen you grow up, Itachi," she spoke, with a sincere smile. "You were but a boy of twelve when you came to Anbu. I thought it was wrong, terrible to burden young soldiers with cruel tasks, but I could not stop anyone."
Her hand came away, and she heaved a sigh. "I never wanted this for you—this life of burden for a young boy. I feel that it changed you over the years, made you hard and, but time had not given me power back then. I have it now. I can throw this diseased man out of our ranks—make things different this time," she spoke in a soft tone and reached her hand up again to brush her fingers across his forehead, a mother's gesture. "What more could a weary old woman like me want from you?"
"Ask and you might receive," he spoke, his tone almost dulcet, mellifluous. The Sharingan smouldered hotly in his eyes. An eerie emotion burnt there, but she was not clever enough to name it. As always, his face was calm: she could read nothing there . . .
She pulled her hand back and smiled. "You precocious little child," Tsunade spoke with amusement and backed away. She grabbed her cup again and looked back to him. "I showed my cooperation when this matter was a little grave."
"His lies have a sway on you? I can mollify many fevers . . . " he spoke again in a voice that was new to her.
Tsunade looked into the cup and then back to him. He was looking out the window. That Sharingan had lost a bit of its intensity. "I didn't call you here to—" she stopped when his eyes found hers again, pierced into hers like knives—that intense emotion returning to that deep dark maw, "—satisfy my fevers. You want the same thing. What did Sasuke do to make him say that with such certainty? He did something terrible, didn't he?" She took a quick sip of her drink. Her comment had not made that look go away. It only intensified as something else, something menacing, mingled delicately with his red's nature.
"Are you resorting to blackmail, Hokage-Sama?" he spoke, the honorific rolling off his tongue a little sweetly.
"No," she said and put the cup down and turned around to face him, "I want to rid Konoha of him. I've grown weary of his schemes and his radical ideals. I need someone to get me a scroll—an important one. Only you're capable of it."
He was silent. His eyes were playing odd tricks on her mind that she felt something stir in her—a little. "Break a girl's mind with your illusions. Rip that seal apart. Tear that memory out and get me the scroll. And I," she paused, dragging in a single deep breath, "I will protect Sasuke, always." She looked sincere. Honest.
He regarded her pink face for a moment longer. "Tsukuyomi will kill anyone swiftly who is not an Uchiha. It must be a powerful family if it hides something you are so restless for," he spoke, his tone unchanging, and it still made her uneasy, made her feel that sensation again. "Are you willing to kill a girl from a powerful family to secure your reign? I am a little surprised by your desires."
"She's no saint!" she said, and a little anger came into her voice against her will. "Your Genjutsu is capable of sinister things. So many secrets, rumours that it tampers with the minds. Do it again. Do it for me this time. Just get me that scroll, and I don't care what Sasuke does, as long as you can keep him in line."
Silence fell around them. A slow smile came to Itachi's face, but he said nothing . . .
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