- Scroll VI -
- Pools of Blood -
The wind rustled across the potted plants, pulling insistently at the edges of the paper that was unfolded across Koyuki's lap. Sitting on a cushioned-covered whicker chair in her terraced patio located just outside her home, the girl's weary eyes swept across the inked words scratched into the rice paper. Her photographic memory worked at memorizing the description of the first mission, although no detail given about the main objective.
Her eyes swept over the paper, before the shrill cry of a bird above her head interrupted her.
Folding up the parchment, she turned her face to the sky, observing the swift, sweeping circular motions of the majestic black hawk that flew further onto a rooftop at her left. She assumed it was a messenger of the third and another team of jonins were being called to the office. Perhaps for a high ranking S-mission.
Koyuki felt a familiar, incessant pull inside her. It was the motivational drive to be able to get to that level, when she had the ability to handle such a dangerous task, when she would finally outdo the best ninjas of Konoha and be considered the most skilled amongst others.
Then I will be ready, and I can finally hunt him down.
The sudden flare of hatred consumed her and she grunted, her eyes narrowed before she swept her legs across the chair and stood, the paper slightly crumpled into her fingers.
Koyuki had already stalked across her patio and was pulling at the shōji doors that led to the inside of her family's estate when she realized she was once again angry.
Perhaps she could never truly dispose of the hatred she still held for Itachi.
The paper panel behind her shut with a light thump, and she placed the note onto the nightstand beside her bed, the sleek locks of her long bangs flitting across her lower jaw at the motion.
She proceeded to pull off her black cotton shirt over her head and slipped it into the gaping laundry basket. Looking over at the clock, it was nearly nine in the evening, and she needed to get up early for tomorrow's meeting.
The girl made her way towards the bathroom, flipping the switch open and crossing the marbleized tiles over to the shower.
Of all the rooms in the house, Koyuki favored the bedroom and the bathroom most. Both places were spacious, her bedroom having a queen-size mattress, and a t.v.. And her bathroom, aside from having a shower, also had a white, alcove bathtub.
The water was hot but not scalding. Koyuki's locks were now soaked, pressing wet against the side of her cheeks and neck. Her eyes watched the mist below her distractedly, as the droplets of water trickled off the tips of her locks and rolled off her nose and chin.
Beyond the hiss of the shower head, she reached for the soap, working up a good lather. Cleaning and scrubbing until her body was covered head to toe with the running bubbles.
Koyuki proceeded to dump cold shampoo over the top of her head, using both hands to scrub at her hair. Closing her eyes, she dunked her head underneath the rush of the water to rinse off shampoo and soap from her skin. Blinking back the streaming water, she found the metal knob and twisted as the stream gradually stopped falling.
Wrapping a white towel above her breasts, she stepped out of the shower. The familiar coolness of the floor under her pressed into the soles of her feet.
And then her toes touched into the slick wetness that wasn't the consistency of water.
Koyuki looked down, and the breath in her throat stopped.
It wasn't the rivulet of blood seeping in from under the cracks of the bathroom floor that forced her legs into a run.
It was the source of the blood that worried her.
Just before the door, her right foot skidded over the shiny slickness and she cursed under her breath as she clutched at the doorknob, all thoughts of slipping into decent clothing gone from her mind.
She yanked the door open, took a step forward and then almost stumbled over the sprawled, motionless body in front of her.
Her muscles clenched involuntarily and her eyes glided over to the contorted face twisted sideways in her direction, the crimson fluid under the man stained his weathered cheeks and Koyuki instantly recognized the features that belonged to the fruit-vendor with the stall just outside the gates of her clan's compound.
One eye was opened in pained surprise, and the other was partially shut in a swell of internal bleeding.
Dead.
Her chest loosened from relief as thoughts of Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura left her mind, and yet the knots in her stomach pulled tighter as she jerked her face up, eyes sweeping stonily across the room.
The door to the patio, the one she recalled closing, was now a full rectangle open.
"What the f-" the breathless obscenity had barely left Koyuki's lips when a chilling voice cut her off - cut her breath off.
"Those are the first words I hear? Tsk, tsk…"
The hairs on the back of Koyuki's neck rose in immediate reaction, and she felt a tingle of fear, all too familiar, brush up her spine as her eyes trailed towards the corner of the room and settled upon an impassive stare.
"I don't recall you having such a foul mouth, Koyuki."
Itachi stood in the corner, watching the way her body slowly stiffened from the waves of initial shock.
A countless number of expressions crossed her eyes after that, shadowing her face as she stood there, still dripping wet from a fresh shower.
The older Uchiha's thick eyelashes lowered as he eyed her lean figure.
Her skin wasn't as pale as Sasuke's, as he had always remembered.
But that wasn't where his gaze lingered.
It was Koyuki's eyes that captivated him now - as the older Uchiha's Sharingan studied thought painfully familiar depths of violet, he saw, glaring back at him, the disapproving look of her mother, the very same eyes that flowed with soft tenderness at the first utterance of sincere apology.
There was warmth she stilled carried in her amethyst eyes, somewhat suppressed, hidden deep in herself.
So far from his eyes - eyes that inherited his father's stony glare, thick, dark eyelashes and the permanent marks of restless, sleepless nights, eyes that held no room for argument or mercy.
Now as he looked at Koyuki, the only thing more difficult than the sudden resuscitation of the past, was the way the young Mikoto vehemently looked at him.
Itachi took in a sweet breath as her irises bathed in a red as crimson as the blood that stained the floor, greeting him, flashing with a steady, spinning whirl of black that now began to settle in dots of two.
So, the older Uchiha thought, she has it as well.
Itachi steadily observed Koyuki, catching a glimpse of her inner thigh as she languidly stepped over the dead body lying on her floor. The young girl's eyes didn't look down, didn't even flinch when Itachi's eyes flickered over the trail of bloody footsteps behind her.
"That will leave a mess." The Uchiha in black murmured as he watched the liquid seep into the wood, still listlessly passive on the outside.
Koyuki's face struck him, a mask of unfathomable but evenly controlled fury. Her dark eyebrows snapped together and there was a glimpse of her teeth as her low voice hissed out.
"I'll clean it after I deal with you."
She held the same quiet composition, the same firm resolve of calm despite the raging hatred, and he felt an uncontrollable bite of fondness in spite of the murder on the floor and it's reflection in the Mikoto's eyes.
"You are a lot like me." He said in a soft voice.
"Oh, how so? Do you clean up after dead bodies? Because if I remember right, you left Konoha's elite to do that job for you last time." The younger girl bit out sarcastically before she caught herself, lips slowly drawing together, eyes becoming calm.
Itachi felt it - the strong pulse of chakra thumping invincibly against his skin, threatening along his consciousness. Again, his eyes flickered with fascination over the young genin. Itachi had barely blinked when he felt the powerful release of the same energy in the form of a single magnetic pulse.
Steadily, her left arm ignited in an eruption of flickering whitish-gold electrical energy. The pulse of her own chakra pushed up against her palm and she forced the crackling bolts down into the ground, the currents of energy shooting dangerously close to the ground.
Itachi felted the pulsating resonance of static electricity envelope the entirety of the room, vibrating along the hairs on his skin.
And then, the sound she wasn't anticipating abruptly distorted her.
She heard the familiarity of it.
Itachi-san and his low, rich string of laughter.
In all honestly, Koyuki expected her blood to run cold, expected the sudden confusion and even expected the strange feeling of disgust that forced her mouth into a wavering scowl. But what she'd hadn't been expecting, were the pangs of longing she now felt as she looked into his face.
In a flash of a moment, she saw the older Uchiha she looked up to all those years ago, his eyes a brooding black that turned a strange coffee brown as the sun hit, his olive-tinged, dark hair tied loosely over his back, his smile small, but charmingly contagious.
And the laugh echoed.
Koyuki always cringed at the light ruffling of Itachi's hand over her head whenever she ventured to the Uchiha compound the visit Sasuke, because it made her feel silly. But she had always allowed it, regardless. Because she felt the warmth of contact seeping comfortably, looking up into his crinkling eyes and hearing the same rich chuckle.
It was worth it.
When Itachi laughed the way he did, everything in the world seemed just where it rightfully was.
All those years ago, she had never doubted it.
Koyuki's eyes dimmed lightly, and without realizing it, the young girl let her chakra die away. The fizzling faded into silence, leaving her bare forearm and the cracks between her fingers slightly bruised from the lash of pricking bolts.
There were so many questions spinning hazily in her mind.
So much she wanted to ask the murderer in front of her.
Itachi's eyes were pressed into beautiful half-moons, despite the threatening red of his irises. But the last of the soft chuckling had faded into muteness of the room subsiding together with her lightning technique.
"Koyuki, I only came to visit. And, my… how much you've grown." His low voice murmured.
The young girl's eyes swept over his. Hatred still swirled heavily under the surface, yet Itachi recognized the same stirrings of melancholy he himself felt.
"Do you really plan to kill me wearing nothing but a towel?"
Something in Koyuki's eyes changed, and Itachi saw that unfaltering Mikoto dignity, still lived on inside her.
"Maybe I should. So that even the murderous outcasts you slink around with would shit blood before they ever thought about mentioning your name." Came the girl's cold answer.
The genin wasn't certain. But beyond the thick darkness of the cylindrical collar that hid Itachi's mouth, she could almost make out the play of a sardonic smile.
Just as suddenly it was gone.
"Could you really do it, Koyuki… kill me…" Itachi's voice was soft, teasing, betraying the frozen stare in his eyes.
"You haven't been listening." Koyuki said between her teeth.
"Must I…? My greatness comes from these eyes, little one." Itachi blinked, and the three pin wheels began to move.
Koyuki's body tensed and she pressed herself in a firm attack stance. Waiting as the chakra behind his temples gathered.
Her own blood-red eyes met his unflinchingly, the black dots sweeping in endless circumference.
"I have no intentions on honing my ears. Though perhaps, Koyuki… you should do just that."
"What does that-?"
And before Koyuki could finish her question or even fully comprehend his warning, she saw the black shuriken-like formation inking into his three-dotted Sharingan.
Mangekyou, just like all those years ago.
Everything came slamming back to the young Mikoto.
"Shit, genjutsu!" She hissed, and her eyes snapped shut tightly.
Koyuki forced herself to stay that way. Terrified of the images she might see if she looked into his Sharingan.
She was grateful of raiding the Uchiha family archive as a child had done her some good. How one acquired the Mangekyou was lost on her. But Koyuki was well aware, it was the highest form of the Sharingan capable of the most skilled forms of illusionary techniques.
Singled out in its own category, the Mangekyou could penetrate through anyone, as long as the person happened to be looking. Not even other Sharingan users could get out of the genjutsu techniques it propagated.
Her fists clenched and fear coursed through her, prickling at her nerves. She remained crouched, unseeing. The backs of her feet pressing against wet blood.
"How long will you stay that way, Koyuki?"
The voice was far from her, but on her right now, even when Itachi hand been lingering at the far left corner just moments ago. Koyuki swore in her mind as she tried to quiet her breath and focus on the slightest sounds on his motions.
Damned fast like he'd always been.
Her brain worked, yet she felt she didn't have many options. Her movements were limited, her ears untrained for blind battle, no weapons were easily accessible near her.
Look into his eyes, and you'll blow everything.
No choice. The Tenchisei. The electrical current. Risk it. One fatal delivered blow to the heart, right when his face is next to me.
And then I'll open my eyes, drive my arm deeper and watch his heart explode.
I'll kill him.
One shot.
Do it.
The distended thoughts came, laced in a panic that tightened her chest.
He didn't kill you last time.
So why will he do it now?
The afterthoughts were comfort. And though the young kunoichi was uncertain whether Itachi would spare her life this time, she ordered herself to believe the conclusion for the sake of that one shot.
For the sake of his deliverance from the prison of her past.
"I didn't kill him…" The sudden deep voice filtered through her, and the young Mikoto abandoned all of it, the distracting thoughts. "… that decrepit corpse behind you."
Lines deepened between Koyuki's eyebrows as her frustration leaped and she fought to keep her eyes closed tight.
Itachi's voice was drawing closer, and she felt the strangulation of alarm clutch at her throat again. Her left arm reflexively stiffened.
"But someone who was with me did…"
The voice was on her left, perhaps a few feet away.
"Because he got in the way, Koyuki. Though, it doesn't really matter why, does it? We never needed much of a reason to kill."
We? Who had been with him? Soft, frozen voice, much closer.
Koyuki's heart was pounding, and for a moment she thought the ragged thrash of her pulse would deafen her. Itachi was toying with her.
"Does an Mikoto rely on another clan's power? Tsk, tsk, Koyuki, if you didn't use those eyes then maybe I would have made things a little less intimidating… I would have shown you a little more respect."
It stuck a cord deeply and Koyuki felt the collapse of her dignity. Her clan name kicked in the dirt.
"It's a part of me, passed down to me by my father, an Uchiha, you know this! And if I have to use everything inside this body to send you to Hell, then I will."
Koyuki didn't notice the slight rustle to her left as she spoke. And suddenly his soft, low voice was trickling into her ear.
"Still doesn't matter."
With a startled cry that was half surprised and half anger, Koyuki's palm erupted into flickering electricity and she swept her arm to the left. And then she molded the chakra against her fingers into a single lightning bolt and discharged it violently.
For a long time there was nothing but empty space until she heard it cutting into something solid before the object gave way and collapsed heavily into the floor.
Damn. The bookcase.
"Still not enough, Koyuki."
And Koyuki knew it was the truth. Staring into darkness and flickering glows and gold and white behind her eyelids, she heard the same question echo in her mind over and over until her mouth finally opened and she asked it.
"Why… why did you let me live?"
Itachi stood five feet in front of her, the markings of Mangekyou gone. His eyes swept over her features in a silent caress, and for a moment he wanted to tell her.
But he wouldn't.
The Mangekyou was gone, yet she didn't know it. Her eyes were squeezed shut as if they would never open for him.
One day, you will know the truth.
Koyuki waited for his answer, but the silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.
And then she heard the voice again, softer, final, "Another time. Goodbye, Koyuki."
No!
Her eyes flew open, darted left to right and found no signs of Itachi.
She glanced behind her and noted the body, saw the wooden planks of the bookcase seeping in blood.
It was no dream.
And then she heard the tinkle, faint from the side of the room, near the paper panes. Koyuki clutched at her towel, knuckles white as she pushed her feet into a run. The patio. Her eyes swept across the wooden railings, the trees and open and area itself.
Nothing.
As if he had never been there.
"Kuso!" She shouted in her room, before the tremble of her legs took her and her knees hit the floor. Bent over, her arms shaking, feeling the world around her plummet.
Her body stung. Her left arm and hand, glazed in cuts of various sizes from the intensity of her technique, continued to grip hard to her towel as her back pressed dully into the wall.
"K'so." She repeated, nothing more than a breath now.
Hearing the retreat of her own voice. The silence of the room.
Her head remained bent, clumps of moist hair falling over her face.
Panting.
The air wasn't coming fast enough.
A minute passed, two.
Breathless, drenched in water and sweat, she forced her legs up, wincing at the fibers of towel biting into her open cuts. For a moment, the girl wavered and then she pushed her teeth together and willed her legs to walk.
Walk to the bathroom to wear some decent clothing, walk or run if she could, to her sensei's apartment.
Find Kakashi.