Taken
"Instead, have you thought that maybe I'm doing this out of love. He's talented and passionate, charming and considerate. He truly makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world."
"It's covered in grease," I mutter, letting the sandwich fall back down the plate with a mushy flop.
"And you have lost several pounds this winter. How many times will you faint before you concede that one cannot survive purely on vitamin pills," Itachi sighs, wrapping his hands around a cup of tea.
A gleam. My attention momentarily darts to the ring again, and the uncomfortable feeling returns. I opt to ignore it.
"Another dozen or so," I huff, uncapping my tomato basil soup. I refuse to eat that disgusting soppy mess of a sandwich.
"Last night, I've also gotten reports from your friends that you've been pulling many allnighters." He gives me his worried, reproachful expression, that I've become immune to. "Sasuke, this isn't healthy."
"Thank you for your concern, mother," I say, then biting down on my spoonful on soup. I grimace. Too salty, and even worse, it's slightly sweet. I acknowledge that food companies are placing high fructose corn syrup in everything nowadays, but this is getting ridiculous.
I wrinkle my nose. Why did I agree to this again? The food is horrible, the looping pop music in the background is distasteful, and the cafe is full of couples trying to suck each other's faces off. Furthermore, the tables are all dingy and outrageously small that I feel like I'm trapped in one of those nightmarish tea parties. Everything is an eyesore.
Okay, maybe not everything, but close to it. I turn my attention back to my brother. "What else did my so-called 'friends' tell you about me?"
Itachi delicately rests his head on a hand. "That you excel at everything except have a social life. And that their endearing nickname for you is Mr. Grumpypants. We also conversed of a few things such as Suigetsu's samurai blade collection, Karin's talent for distinguishing perfumes, and Juugo's birdwatching hobby. They were all quite nice and entertaining throughout the night."
"Wait, Karin didn't try to rape you?"
"Is a rape a new American slang now? Miss Karin behaved rather lady-like and displayed her excellent skill of mapping and navigation during the tour."
I cannot believe what I am hearing. Karin? Lady-like? Either my brother needs glasses or I need a hearing aid. Then again, he doesn't seem to suffering from any of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
"No groping?"
"No."
"Dirty talk?"
"None that I was aware of."
"Pinching, slapping, nibbling, air-humping?"
"You make your friend sound like an animal, Sasuke."
"Because she is." Then, I promptly add, "And she's not my friend."
Itachi delivers one of his sure smiles as he pops off the lid of his own aegean whatever-exotic pasta salad that looks like they just tossed whatever is leftover in the kitchen.
"Tomato?" he offers, poking a fork with a bright red grape tomato in my direction, and I temporarily go cross-eyed. On instinct, I swat his hand away. The fork skids across the cafe and the tomato bounces off somewhere in the corner.
After casting a quick glance around the cafe, I hiss. "What the fuck, Itachi."
I am talking to an empty chair.
"Pardon," I hear him from across the room, picking up the fork. He walks back to me, humming, tossing the bruised grape tomato in his other palm. When he returns, he slides back out his chair and gently plops the tomato on a napkin.
"Ah, and I was so convinced your food preferences haven't changed. Do you have a new favorite food now, Sasuke?"
"No. Do you have a new hobby now? Is it giving a hoot?" I challenge, snatching my spoon again and madly stirring my soup.
A smile. "Perhaps."
I stir harder. "Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing..."
"I'm not playing any games," he simply states.
"... but you can't expect me to believe that after two whole decades of endless international flights, nonstop revolutions, and construction of the greatest empire of the century, all while raking in an unfathomable amount of money that you just donate to who-knows-what charities, you actually have nothing better to do than some old fashion brotherly bonding in a dingy Au Bon Pain." Tomato bits are spewing everywhere.
"If I had a choice, you would have always been first," he answers smoothly, lowering his eyelids.
My hands stop. I am sputtering. "Oxford and Cambridge fought over who can have you as their philosophy professor. The French wanted you as their Prime Minister, and you don't even have French citizenship!"
"The British and French are always silly like that," Itachi says lightheartedly.
"You would have won the Nobel Peace Prize, and no one knows it because you handed the credit to someone else!"
"It was his theory; I only made it work. Besides, I would have missed your eleventh birthday."
"You're... you're crazy!" Mental note: insanity is also contagious.
And then, he screws me over once more with this statement: "Sasuke, as much as I love directing boards, teaching graduates, engaging in politics, or unwinding theories on my free time, have you thought that maybe I would just like to spend a week with you?" That one takes more than a second to fully recover from, and I am positive by now that I have been whisked away to an alternative dimension without my knowing.
"Yes, I have," I bitterly say, "but that's irrational. What about the company?"
Itachi looks as if he's been expecting this question. "Someone else is managing it quite well."
"Who? Shisui?"
He chuckles, unfolding several napkins. "I said, well. Shisui is on a cruise in the Caribbeans, playing ninja-pirates for a film. Currently in charge is a recent Harvard graduate. Very charismatic, assertive, and innovative. Incredibly strong. Also one of the most brilliant people I've met." Judging from his sincere tone, he isn't exaggerating this time. Which means there's actually a chance the person he left in charge won't be kidnapped by the Yakuza or threatened to be nuked by North Korea.
When Itachi finishes wiping the tomato splatters all over the table, he sets the napkins aside and looks straight into my eyes. "Now, Sasuke, will you suspend your disbelief for just this one week, and enjoy my companionship? Or shall I try again the next decade?"
I stare back, before averting my gaze.
"'Your companionship' isn't gold, Itachi," I snort. What an arrogant ass.
"According to you, the U.K. and France would beg the differ."
"Shut up." I clamp my mouth over another spoonful of soup. So this soup isn't that intolerable. I swallow. Then, "But I do have another mock trial this evening, and if you want..."
"I would love to come."
"Oh yay." And maybe that sentiment isn't completely sarcastic this time.