Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
-O-
The smell of opium and sake curls around her face like a the caress of a lover, and Sakura resists the urge to cover her nose; but Aya lacks such inhibitions and pinches her nose in distaste.
"Must you make this place smell like a whore house, Hisao?" Aya growled under her breath as they pushed through sweaty bodies to make their presence known. Sakura bit her cheek in vexation as she stepped on feet and moved under arms to appear before their chosen earl. Or rather, the earl by circumstance. Said earl came into view and she felt her chest bubble in anger at the sight.
Hisao was a tall man, and yet he lacked the strength a man of his stature should have. He was skinny, terribly so, and if she did not kill him then his addiction would. His oily red hair clung to the fingers of the woman beside him, unabashedly curling and pressing into his body as she was paid to do. Another slave woman ran her hands over his thighs, bending over and giving lecherous men a grand view of her backside.
Aya gagged beside her and her own lips pressed into a tight line. Hisao was a disgusting man and the only reason he was in power was because the previous earl had been poisoned and Hisao had been the one to put him out of his misery.
Upon sight of her unusual head of pink, Hisao callously pushed the slave women off of him and stepped from his throne. The women released a plaintive cry as he walked away, reaching for him in a show of devotion that made them pitiful. Their desire for freedom and power was obvious, as Hisao was an unmarried man who could have whoever he so chooses.
Except for who he desired most: Aya.
He clapped twice and the room dissolved into whispers and then complete silence. He waltzed towards the front of the room, stepping onto a pedestal made of wood and painted the color of Aya's eyes.
"Now that the Chosen Sisters have decided to grace us with their presence, we may begin," his voice was a cacophony of failures and resentment and Sakura did not wish to listen.
His eyes lingered on Aya and when she averted her gaze, he frowned and set his sights on her. He glared when Sakura bared her teeth—she was no one's second choice, especially not his. Hisao paced while he collected his thoughts, gnarled hand stroking a pitiful beard as he hummed to himself.
"I assume you all must know why we are gathered here," his assumption was met with blank stares—most angry at his blatant disrespect, others uncaring—as no one had been informed of the meeting's purpose. Hisao placed his hands on his chest, eyes widening in mockery and gasping theatrically.
"You mean to tell me you do not know?"
His eyes—eyes the color of shit, as Aya liked to say—cut to Sakura's own, and what she saw in their depths made the fine hairs at the nape of her neck stand in alarm. Dread pooled deep in her belly, made her forget herself and reach out to clutch at Aya's hand in reassurance. The blonde sent her a questioning glance, and Sakura discreetly shook her head.
Hisao shook his head as if terribly disappointed, and the burly man beside Sakura growled under his breath and shifted his weight in agitation. It seemed as if she and her sister were not the only ones who despised their leader…she took great joy in this knowledge, because anyone who enjoyed Hisao's presence was surely unwell.
Hisao clucks his tongue and waves his hand in dismissal, "No matter, we shall discuss that later," his eyes glint in a way that Sakura has come to recognize as greed, "I want to know the progress of my conquest. Please, one of you, step forth and give me good news."
He stands there, painted nails tapping on a jeweled belt, waiting expectantly for one of the warriors to come forward, and Sakura knows she hates him. She wants to say that had he been there he would know himself. She wants to ask how he could stand before them covered in jewels and gold as his people starve in the streets.
"Well?!" He bellows over the crowd that makes the man next to her chuckle—as though a snake were ordering the lion to bow before it.
When no one steps forward, he looks at her for answers and she grits her teeth. Her hands curl into fists tight enough to draw blood, and she steps forward.
"Lord Hisao," she begins and the name feels oily on her tongue, "the battle went well. We slaughtered the enemy, pillaged their provisions and drove them from their lands. We lost a dozen men, good warriors, and funeral arrangements shall be made with your blessing. Families must be compensated, sacrifices to the gods must be made, and we must honor them. Once that is done, we shall be able to expand your conquest."
Hisao waved his hand dismissively, bulbous nose scrunching in annoyance, "You know I care not for such matters, woman. Tell me, what of the treasure?"
Sakura felt her blood boil beneath her skin, felt her tightly controlled chakra flare beneath her skin in anger. How dare he? How dare he dismiss the souls of the men who fought and died for his goals, his greed? How dare he dishonor the gods?
She steps forward, hands twitching to wrap around his neck, and warns him, "If you do not do as I say, Lord Hisao, you will keep them from entering the Kingdom of the Gods. And they will be angry with you."
Hisao rolls his eyes at her warning, chuckling in the face of her counsel, and mocks her, "Why, I am almost a god myself, Sakura, they would not bring harm to such divinity!"
She grits her teeth at such conceit, at the way he says her name, feels the heavens churn above her in anger and says, "Careful, Hisao, you anger the gods with your vanity. They do not take mockery lightly."
Hisao's eyes widen in fear, and then anger, rushing forward to grasp the collar of her shirt in a shaking fist. Aya steps forward threateningly, but stops short when Hisao's guards do the same. They both know they would not survive the carnage that would follow if they were to attack—they were strong, but not enough.
"Enough of your foolish talk of Gods," he growls in her face, his hot breath fanning over her face, "Tell me of the treasure!"
Sakura snarls and shoves him away from her. "There is no treasure," she spits, "you sent young men to die for wheat and dirt!"
Hisao stands stunned for a moment, the silence that follows is heavy and stifling; and then Hisao throws his head back and laughs. And he laughs and laughs until he is bent over his knees gasping for breath. The villagers assembled in his hall stand silently.
"How unfortunate," he says as he wipes a tear from his eye, "but I have better news!"
Sakura feels her heart beat stronger with hatred for this man, and steels herself for what is to come. Hisao's good news were almost always bad, but he was incapable of hurting her. He could send her out to die, but she would survive. He had killed her lover, and she had survived. He had done his worst, and she had lived.
But as his greatest detractor, Hisao would always try to hurt her and would always find a way.
"I have decided to marry!"
His declaration was met with gasps, and then whispers. Hisao was a notorious womanizer—of whores—and he had refused to take a wife since his ascension as earl nearly two years prior.
He nodded his head sagely, smiling as though he had blessed them with a God's favor.
"And I have chosen my wife!"
Beside Sakura, Aya stiffened. The dread in Sakura's belly threatened to appear before her, and her jaw clenched. The slave women behind Hisao leaned in expectedly, each hoping that the woman he chose would be one of them.
Sweeping his silk robed arm over the crowd, he extended a hand towards Aya.
"Aya, my dear, come stand beside your betrothed."
Aya shook her head mutely, stepping back in abject horror and lips parting in shock. Sakura knew then, as well as she knew her gods and that her hair was pink, that she hated Hisao and wanted him dead.
She stepped in front of her blonde haired friend—sister—and looked down at her nose at the worm that was Hisao.
"No."
She was met with the sound of Hisao's cruel laughter, but was then shoved aside by Aya.
"You cannot do this!" Aya exclaimed angrily, unshed tears brimming eyes the color of a tumultuous sea, "I am a free woman! I can marry whomever I choose!"
Hisao shook his head in false sympathy, sighing as though it took great effort to speak to commoners such as them.
"That is where you are mistaken. You come from nothing," and his lips curled in cruel pleasure, "you and your sister were found amongst rubble—orphans—and were raised by an old woman who cares for orphans and has nothing."
Sakura decided then that she would rip out his throat with her teeth if she could.
Hisao tutted and removed the crown from his head—a mockery of the previous earl who insisted he be equal to his followers—to buff the jewels embedded there.
"Besides," he says with a cruel smile and locks eyes with Sakura's blazing green, "I am the earl, I can do whatever I want."
Hisao turns in a flurry of silk robes and walks away, slave women in tow and singing his name. He pauses midstride and then twists to flippantly say, "Oh, and Aya, our wedding is in a fortnight," and then adds as an afterthought, "and you may not see that boat builder you are so fond of. He is dead."
And then the doors to his chambers shut behind him.
The silence left in his wake is suffocating, as people find themselves unable to tear their eyes away from the woman whose freedom has been essentially torn from her.
Sakura grabs a stunned Aya by the crook of her elbow and begins to drag her away from the gathering. She sees how Aya is breaking, how her world is crashing and falling beneath her feet. But she will not let the others see, she wants them to see Aya as they see her on the battlefield—fierce and courageous.
"Not here, sister," she says lowly and pushes through sweaty bodies and doors and trees and steps over roots until they come to a part of the forest they had chosen as theirs.
Aya drops to her knees on familiar dirt and wails, and Sakura is reminded that most snakes are poisonous.