Phantasmagoria
Chapter One
Before you ask, yes, I have read all the Harry Potter books. I've re-read them, and re-read them, and re-read them. I've had nightmares about the Basilisk and very good dreams about marrying Bill Weasley.
The point is, I wasn't a total idiot when I saw the note – from Kiba, as I would discover later. I was suspicious. I was wary.
But I still wrote back.
Not at first, of course. Most people don't see a note in a journal and immediately decide that someone's trying to communicate with them. But I stared at that page, and then – I don't know why – flipped to the next page. And there, waiting for me, was:
Hello?
But maybe these notes had been left over from before. Maybe they were planted as a very clever prank to whatever sucker read the stupid journal. It was possible, so I flipped the page. Nothing.
I switched back to that last page, examined the ink. It was dark and shiny – fresher than the earlier entries.
After a moment, I turned the page again.
I know you're reading me, Sweetheart, it said. Why don't you write back?
I hesitated for only a moment because, sure, it could have been a prank, but it wasn't like anyone would have to know I fell for it. And besides, if I could believe in Wishmakers – had met one only hours earlier – then I could believe in a talking (well, you know what I mean) book, right?
Right.
(But full confession? I think it was the Sweetheart that got me.)
I turned the page. Um, I wrote. I didn't know what else to say.
Progress! He wrote back on the next page. Hi there.
Hi, I wrote. Who the hell are you?
Well, I never said I was polite.
Hey, you should be more respectful, he returned, I'm a book. I'm knowledge. Value me.
I didn't know if he was joking or not. Are you really a book?
More like a really hot guy stuck in a book, he said. Name's Kiba. And who are you, Sweetheart?
Kiba. The one who owned the journal.
I wavered for a moment, hesitant to give my name. Who knew how it would come back to haunt me. Words appeared then, however, before I could write.
Never mind, you don't need to give me your name. We'll stick with Sweetheart. I smiled, then, You are a girl, right?
No harm in answering. Yes. Did the pink pen give it away?
Nah, he said. I could smell your shampoo.
I didn't know what to say to that. You can smell me? Can you see me?
No, can't see you. Unfortunately. I can smell your hair because it's been dripping water all over my pages.
I flipped a page, flushing. Sorry.
No problemo. Now stop flipping pages for a sec. I obeyed, waiting. He seemed to be thinking, because his next words came slowly, each word measured out. I could almost hear him speaking, carefully, in my ear.
Here's what you need to know about me, Sweetheart. I'm twenty. I've been twenty for seven years, stuck in this stupid book. And this stupid book, thanks to our conversation, is nearly down to its last page.
I barely kept myself from flipping the page to scribble an answer.
After that, we can't talk anymore. Which sucks, but what can you do? DON'T TURN THE PAGE, I'M NOT DONE.
You're the first person to write back, ever, he continued. So you must be at least a little bit of an idiot. Don't get offended, Sweetheart. I like idiots.
He didn't continue. I turned the page.
Why are you in the book? Can't you get out?
Let's not waste precious paper on that, Sweetheart. And not that I know of. I only wish. I'd like to meet the girl that capitalizes all her 'r's.
I smiled at that. My heart was racing, the way it used to do when I played hide-and-seek as a kid, and came so close to being discovered.
But let's not think of that. I'm sure I can figure out a way. For now, why don't we close the book? We only have a few pages left. Let's make them last. You don't need to reply.
I stared at that message for a while. Then I set the journal, still open, on my desk.
Then I went to bed.
-x-
Yeah, it was anticlimactic. But just because I have a love story doesn't make it another epic romance. That just isn't me. I woke up in the morning, checked the journal – nothing new – got ready, went to class. Ino had finished her essay, though she looked ready to collapse at any given moment. I took notes in lecture, spaced out in tutorials, ate a granola bar for lunch. And I thought about Kiba.
When I got back to my room, the first thing I did was check the journal.
I don't know where you are, Sweetheart. Work? Class? Sleeping? This is hardly a functional relationship.
Well, we have about fifteen pages left. If I spend the day writing to you, and you end it with a letter to me, we can last a week, at least. I don't know if that's something you want to deal with, of course. But it's not like I have anything better to do, so I'll start.
He wrote me a long letter, filling the page, writing tiny to fit it all in. Told me he didn't want to talk about the past, not when everything would be over soon, anyway. He told me instead about what he had planned for the future, before… Before what? I didn't know; he just trailed off, then turned to asking me about myself. His last line made my heart hurt.
You don't need to answer, Sweetheart. If you'd prefer not to, close the book. Just don't waste a page.
I knew it was ridiculous. I still know it. There I was, crying over a book. They were just words on a page, and yet they set me off like nothing ever did. Maybe I was a sap. Maybe I was PMS-ing. Or maybe it was because Kiba, my personal secret, was about to disappear, and I couldn't even hold a conversation with him.
Or maybe it was because, even then, I was so attached to him. Maybe it's because the expression Love at first sight is a true one, and maybe it applied to us. To me.
I don't know. I didn't know then. I didn't know anything except that I was crying and I wished, wished so hard, that he could be real. That he could step out of those pages. That I could see him.
And then I realized that I could.
I flipped the page.
My name is Sakura, I began.
-x-
I told Naruto. He thought my plan was insane, but he was very impressed by the journal.
"Garage sales, Sakura-chan. They're magic." He looked over my page. I didn't want to close it, or turn the page, just in case it meant I had to start a new one. Still, I felt uncomfortable about him reading it, even if Naruto already knew all my secrets.
"How are you gonna find him?"
"I have no idea," I sighed. "I'm just going to hope I do."
"Hope is a powerful thing, Sakura-chan," Naruto said encouragingly, catching sight of my expression. Then he looked concerned. "But he could be anywhere."
"We need him to come to us," I said. "So first, we need to buy weasel food."
-x-
Yeah, my idea sucked. Sasuke still tells me I'm a complete idiot for thinking I could catch a Wishmaker with pet food.
But if you've been reading closely, you'll realize something important: Sasuke's with me now. So maybe you'll come to the conclusion that my stupid plan actually worked.
Well, it did. Sort of.
Sasuke looked about my age, so I advertised the weasel food in all the local colleges, libraries, malls. And then, well, I waited. I didn't know what else to do. I updated Kiba every night, but I never flipped the page to see what he thought about my plan. I didn't want to lose time.
"Sakura-chan, you look awful," Naruto told me every day. My other friends echoed this sentiment, but they were more flat, blunt about it. Only Naruto knew why I was in the state I was in, and only he softened his words with a sad, sympathetic smile.
"I just need to find the stupid Wishmaker," I would tell him. "And then I'll be okay."
He didn't look like he believed me. I can't say I blame him, since it took me a month to find Sasuke.
But I did find him. One day, at the mall with Ino, I saw my ad up on the wall. There were a couple guys, a few years older than me, standing by it. One of them, a blond with a hairstyle like Ino's, was speaking.
"Weasel food?" He laughed. "Someone call Sasuke, yeah? He'd like this. It can go with the birthday present he bought Itachi last month."
Bingo, I thought, and moved closer.
"I thought Itachi's birthday's in June," grunted another, tall, with blue hair (whatever, my hair's pink, I don't judge).
"It is," said the blond. "But you know how Sasuke is. He hates Itachi."
It wasn't much, but it was all I had to go on. So I took a breath, prepared myself to look like an idiot, and said, "Excuse me?"
The blond, the tall guy, and another one – a pretty, silent redhead – turned to look at me.
"Can I help you?" the tall guy asked.
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "I'm the one selling weasel food. I've been looking everywhere for Sasuke. Could you tell me where I can find him?"
"Another one," the blond said with a smirk. "Sasuke's not going to like this." And then miraculously, magically, he held out a hand. "Got a pen?"
It was just that easy.
-x-
When I got home, I turned the page.
FINALLY, Kiba said. I have to admit, this startled me. I've been waiting for you to turn the page for so long, he went on, his letters spiky and big. He was angry. This is a really bad way to communicate.
Did I ever know it.
I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn't accidentally turn the page to reply. Kiba went on:
DON'T call the Wishmaker, okay? We have a week. That's enough. DON'T CALL THE WISHMAKER, SAKURA.
I stared at that message. I hated that I couldn't ask him why he was so against Wishmakers. If I did ask, I would lose time with him. If only we could communicate properly.
I knew I shouldn't talk to Sasuke, not if Kiba was against it. But the more I thought of the journal ending and having to say goodbye to Kiba, without ever even having a proper conversation with him, or hearing his voice, or seeing him face-to-face, or even learning anything about him besides his name, the more panicked I felt.
I touched the page, ran my fingers along his last word, my name, and exhaled.
I had to do it.
-x-
"Sakuraaaaa! Where have you been?" Ino asked me. "I've barely even seen you in ages!"
"You saw me yesterday," I reminded Ino. I was on my way to meet Naruto in the parking lot, and he would drive us to the address I received at the mall.
"Right," Ino said, taking off her sunglasses and squinting at me in the morning sun. "Saturday afternoon. We always spend Saturday night together." This was true; we usually spent half the night studying, half watching bad movies, and the entire night stuffing our faces.
"Sorry, Ino," I said, meaning it. "I was busy."
"Yeah? With what?"
I just looked at her. Thing is, Naruto's my closest friend, but Ino is my best friend. I've known her longest out of all my friends, and we've always been together. And yet… how could I tell her about Kiba? I could tell Naruto; it was Naruto, after all, who talked about a demon fox named Kyuubi, and a world of ninja, back when we met in the seventh grade. Naruto is very open-minded. But Ino? Not so much. She doesn't believe in anything she can't see, which is odd, because I'm the science geek. Ino's more into fantasy.
But there was one thing Ino could understand: feelings.
"A guy," I said finally. Ino looked surprised. "Not like that!" I added, feeling my cheeks grow hot.
"Oh." She blinked. "Who is he?"
"You don't know him," I said. "He… doesn't go to Konoha U."
"Hm." She slid her sunglasses back on and stepped back. "Well, okay. Just don't get carried away. Trust me, I'm speaking from experience." She pursed her lips, clearly thinking of Shikamaru, who she had broken up with over summer. She was still hung-up on him, not that Ino would ever admit it. "I have to get to the library now. Wanna join me?"
"I have something to do," I said. "I'll call you later. We'll go out for dinner with Naruto and Chouji, okay?"
"Sure," she said, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. "See you later, Sakura."
"Bye," I said, shooting her a quick, apologetic grin before racing off to find Naruto. He was sitting on his hood, drinking a can of Pepsi.
"What took you?" he asked, unlocking the car. I slid into the passenger seat with a sigh.
"I met up with Ino," I said. "Let's go out for dinner tonight."
"Are you asking me out?"
"Shut up and drive," I said, lowering my window. It was nice out, a perfect, crisp fall morning. Naruto switched on the radio and we drove in relative silence, but for the music and occasional directions from Naruto's GPS.
"I wonder what kind of place a Wishmaker lives in," Naruto mused when we were only minutes away. "A lamp, maybe?"
"Funny," I said. "He's probably loaded, to live here." We were in a wealthy neighborhood, a gated community with houses worth several million.
Naruto whistled, long and low, as he turned onto Sasuke's street. "No kidding."
Sasuke's house was a Victoria-style mansion, towering over all the neighboring houses. The grounds were sprawling, finely kept. As Naruto rolled onto the circular driveway, I spotted at least three people working on the gardens. Basically, it was big. Really big.
"Rich people," I said, laughing weakly. "You know how they are."
"Uh-huh," Naruto said, nodding dumbly. "Well, let's go in," he said.
"What, we just walk in?" I asked.
"Why not?"
As if in response, when we stepped out of the car, the front doors opened. Someone – a maid, it looked like – appeared at the top of the steps.
"Hello?" she called down. "Can I help you?"
"Um," I said, glancing back at Naruto. "We're here to see Sasuke?"
"Sasuke-sama is very busy right now," she said. "I'm afraid you can't meet him right now."
"What?" I stepped forward, onto the first stone step. "No, wait, please. I really need to see him. Please, it won't take long."
The maid didn't look impressed. "I'm sure it won't. He can't see you."
After everything, I wasn't going to be stopped here. I couldn't be. I could feel my cheeks reddening from anger, and I took a breath. I had a temper, and it would get me nowhere.
"Please." My voice broke – from frustration, not tears, but the maid softened upon hearing it.
"I'm very sorry," she said. "Sasuke-sama has no time for fangirls. He won't see you."
Fangirls?!
"No, you don't understand," I started.
"Can you pass on a message?"
I turned. Naruto was staring up at the maid, frowning thoughtfully.
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Tell him we have his weasel food," Naruto said. "And we really wish he would come back to the pet store and pick it up. It would make us happy."
The maid looked at us strangely. "Okay," she said. "I'll pass on the message. What's your name?"
"Uzumaki Naruto," he said with a smile, shooting me a warning look. "Namikaze Minato's son. I met him at a party."
It wasn't often that Naruto used his father's influence, and I highly doubted he had ever even been to any of his parties.
Still, the maid didn't need to know that. She evidently knew who Namikaze Minato was, though, since her eyes widened and she hastened to assure them that she would "let Sasuke-sama know."
"You think he'll come?" I asked when we pulled away, having gained nothing at all.
"We can hope," Naruto said. "You know what they say. Hope moves mountains."
"I thought that was love," I said.
"We got that, too," he said, and at first I was surprised, thinking he meant me and Kiba, but he went on, "I love you, Sakura-chan."
I laughed. "I love you, Naruto!" Because I did. Still do. "Thanks for doing this for me," I added, thinking of his use of his father's name. They had a strained relationship.
"Don't thank me yet," Naruto said. "Now where are we going for dinner?"
-x-
I ask Sasuke sometimes why he listened to Naruto's message. Was it because of the hint that we knew what he was? Was it because of Naruto's father? Or, impossible as it is, was it because of me?
Sasuke says it was none of these things. He came, he says, for the weasel food.
The only thing is, I didn't actually have weasel food. I mean, I tried to get it, but couldn't find it, and then Naruto told me not to bother. "You just need to attract him," he said. "He doesn't actually need the weasel food."
Maybe Naruto just hadn't believed he would come.
But come he did, just one day after we tried to meet him. Sasuke strolled into the pet shop in the middle of my shift, while Hinata was in the coffee shop three stores down and Naruto was – as usual – playing with the dogs. Akamaru barked when Sasuke entered, which made me look up.
"Sasuke!"
"You called?"
He was spinning his keys around, one eyebrow raised. I stood there, not knowing what to say.
"Sakura-chan?"
Thank God. "Naruto!" I said, beckoning him over. "This is Sasuke! He came!"
"Wow, he came," Naruto echoed. Then he blinked. "He came!"
Sasuke flicked a glance at Naruto. "I came, yes. Where's my weasel food?"
"Oh, we don't have any," Naruto said.
"Then why am I here?"
"Because we need your help," Naruto said impatiently. "There's this guy—"
"What's in it for me?" Naruto stared, and Sasuke elaborated: "Why should I help you?"
"Because that's what decent people do?"
"Who said I'm decent?"
"How can you refuse that face?" Naruto said, gesturing towards me. I tried to look appropriately pitiful. Sasuke wasn't impressed.
"No." And he turned to go.
"Are all Wishmakers like this, Sakura-chan?" Naruto stage-whispered. It wasn't like anyone was around to hear but me and him, after all.
Sasuke tensed. "What."
"Wishmakers," Naruto repeated. "Are they all total jerks?"
"I'm not a Wishmaker—"
"Save it," Naruto snapped. Sasuke glared at him, and he glared right back. It was time for me to step in.
"We haven't told anybody," I said to Sasuke. "We're not going to, either. We just need your help. I have a wish."
Sasuke considered this. "You're not hearing me," he said finally. "What reason do I have to help you?"
I have to admit, I hadn't thought of this.
"I, uh…" I racked my brain, trying to think of something that would appeal to Sasuke, who was both filthy rich and a Wishmaker. What could I possibly offer? "I'll do anything. Just name your price."
Sasuke's expression didn't change.
"It's really important," Naruto added irritably. He wasn't helping my case, and I glared at him to shut up. He didn't notice, locked in another staring contest with Sasuke.
"Can't help you," Sasuke said.
"You know, you're kind of an asshole," Naruto said.
Sasuke sneered. "Is that supposed to convince me? Idiot."
I grit my teeth. Hinata would be back soon, Sasuke would leave, and I had nothing. Kiba's last chance was going to walk out, and then what would we do? Leave him in that book? No matter what he said, that was no way to go.
"Please," I said again. "My friend – he needs your help. He's stuck in this stupid journal, and—"
Sasuke looked to me, eyebrows flying up. Way up. "Trapped in a book?" When I nodded, he asked, "What's his name?"
"Inuzuka Kiba."
"Inuzuka…" Sasuke murmured. Then he stepped closer to me. Naruto moved to intercept him, but I held up a hand. "I'll give you my number," Sasuke said.
This threw me off. "What?" I didn't believe it.
"Find out why he's in the book," Sasuke said. "And then call me."
I handed him my phone so he could enter his number. "You mean it?" I said eagerly. "You'll help us?"
"Depends on your answer," Sasuke said, sliding the phone back to me. "Let's hope it's the right one."
-x-
We had thirteen pages left. I took a deep breath and flipped the page.
You're going to be really mad at me… I began.
Thinking back on it now, Ginny Weasley probably felt something like I did. Things didn't turn out so great for her, either.
-x-
Moving too fast? I think so, and yet, I like this pace. I love this fic. I can't remember the last time I wrote so much in one day. And I find it hilarious that when I wrote my first KibaSaku chapter-fic – Disenchanted – people asked me what on earth I was doing, yet for this fic, I'm being encouraged to make it KibaSaku. Anyway. I know what this fic will end up as, but I'm not giving anything away. My lips are sealed!
Also, no, this fic wasn't inspired by Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I realized later that Kiba's journal was like Tom Riddle's diary, but… no. this fic was inspired by the novel Swoon, and by season 7 of 24, though I don't expect anyone to understand that one.
Review!