Taken
"And suddenly, everything became so easy. 'You're mine,' is hardly a challenge compared to 'have me.' Staring down at him is a breeze compared to staring down at yourself in the mirror."
/No way! No way, no way, no way. Okay. Am I dreaming or is the almighty Sasuke the one calling me?/ Naruto's distinctive voice booms from my phone – grainier than sandpaper, louder than a megaphone, happier than all the sunshine and rainbows melted together. /Oh man, you have no idea how long I've been trying to get a hold of you. Listen, there's something really important I need to-/
"Actually... this is his brother."
A loud curse, the unmistakeable thud of the phone being dropped.
/ITACHI?/
The cool granite, the gentle flow of water. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and despite enough darkened rings under my eyes to cast me for any Grudge movie, I mentally laugh my psychotic, malicious, evil laugh that manifested of itself after twenty three years of impatiently waiting for this day.
"Yes, my name is Itachi Uchiha," my wonderfully obedient brother reads, "and I am here to leave a message, to you, Mr. Naruto Uzumaki, that shall serve as evidence for any future references: as of earlier today, 10:06 AM EST, I was unable to win against my younger brother, Sasuke Uchiha, in some activity..."
I can't restrain the smirk threatening to split my face in two. The whole demand is crude, it's disgustingly immature, and guess what, I don't give a damn, because Itachi. Did. Not. Win. It's the ultimate abuse of power: Itachi, make me breakfast, Itachi, fetch me the newspaper, Itachi, bring me coffee. I take another sip of coffee and savor the rich flavor. Ah, life.
Itachi tosses away my script. "But for the record, Sasuke didn't win either," he quickly tags on the fine print.
I spit out my coffee.
"I didn't give you permission to say that," I hiss, glowering at him. I try to snatch back my blackberry, but he easily slides away.
"Instead, as of earlier today, 9:57 AM EST, my darling younger brother woke up on the floor, snuggled against me like the cutest kitten-"
"Itachi!"
He gracefully evades and is on his feet. He paces around the fountain, lips twitching. "-on top of a blanket of French playing cards in enough disarray for him to finally conceded to a truce."
"That's NOT what happened-" I wrestle with my brother over the phone.
He twists his wrist and tilts his head so his ear against the phone. "It's a pity that even after all these years he came short..."
"Itachi, shut-"
"... because he would have won in the end."
"-up?"
We are in a locked position when Itachi smiles and continues. "His eyes have truly become sharp. His tricks also gave me a run for my money, and I was very surprised he saw through mine so quickly."
A blink. I release him.
"You weren't too bad yourself," I mumble. Itachi's always had the hands of an illusionist. He loved to dazzle children with card tricks - I was his favorite victim. And it isn't that I've seen through his tricks as that I've had enough practice to know what he'll try to pull. "And you would have w-"
"Of course, his memory remains dreadful," Itachi casually adds, and I snap close my mouth, glare, and do something shamefully childish. I push.
He takes me down with him, grabbing my wrist at the last minute.
One crash later, I am on top of him, my palm and knee pressed against a myriad of coins, my clothes soaking wet. Itachi presses his forehead against mine, the smile never leaving his lips. "I believe Sasuke would like to speak to you now," he says, then presses the phone against my ear.
"Naruto..." I begin. "Laugh, and I'll sue your ass to high debt heaven."
Absolute silence.
Then, there is a strangled-choking chortling noise from his end of the line, followed by some heavy pounding on wood.
An entirety of sixty seconds later, Naruto recomposes himself and says, /N-no, I'm not la- laf- laffz- oh fuck, hold on./ He doesn't bother to conceal the bawling guffaw that follows.
Meanwhile, students spare a minute of their time to send me a curious look. Whispers circulate. Well, isn't this wonderful, caught playing in the campus fountain with my brother.
I stare daggers at him. "You drugged my coffee, didn't you?" I hiss accusingly.
"Just a sprinkle of sugar," he says, pretending to be blissfully unaware of what sugar does to me.
Days like these, I want to screw morals, screw laws, and just strangle him. But I can't, not with the bittersweet taste in my mouth, not with his forehead pressed against mine, the tender smile gracing his lips, that makes time seem to rewind and stop.
I toss him a page of my Sunday paper and a pen. "Do that and behave yourself," I command, kicking off my shoes and unbuttoning my shirt.
"You will catch a cold." Like he has the right to talk.
"Shut up," I grit my teeth, taking another deep gulp of steaming hot coffee, then slamming it down on the fountain granite.
I will not break out of routine. I will pretend the weather is not as ridiculously cold as it is. I will pretend half the campus isn't gawking at me like they've never seen the male anatomy before. I will enjoy my lousy coffee with my lousy paper and pretend Itachi is not here, my lousy brother who is clicking the lousy pen and scribbling down the lousy answers to the lousy crossword without even so much as a lousy blink.
I will redial Naruto's lousy number, then I will get out of this lousy sugar-induced foolishness and return to normalcy.
"Repeat after me," I calmly state. "I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and if I ever bring this up again, ever, this number and every variant of will be on Sasuke Uchiha's permanent block list."
/I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and if I ever something something, then I'll cry./
Fair enough.
"So what's the important thing that made it necessary to spam my voice mail more so than usual?" I keep my tone flat, and flip the newspaper.
/Uhh.../ There is a stretched pause at the end of his line. /Well, about that.../
I wait.
/Um... well... err... so... you know, Sakura... well, she's.../
"I already know."
/WHAT?/
"Itachi made me call her. She told me yesterday on the phone."
/SHE DID?/
"Yes."
/A-and you're fine with that?/
"I gave my protest; she wouldn't hear it." I hear a crash, follow by some background voices.
/You-you're being awfully calm about the whole thing.../ he laughs nervously.
I'm a little surprised by his tone. "I dislike this turn of events, Naruto, but I'm not mad. I can't forbid her if she wants to. It would have been better if the notice wasn't so impromptu."
Under different circumstances, I might have welcomed her presence. We broke up, but last time I checked, we held no ill feelings towards each other, and can handle civilized, intellectually stimulating conversations. Naruto should understand that better than anyone.
But all I hear is an increasing speech impediment that is very out of character for him. /W-wow,/ he chokes. /Okay, I guess if you honestly don't mind, then we spared a lot of drama./
His tone slowly shifts back to normal, and the silly, mischievous edge he carries returns. /Oh man, I can't believe this is actually happening. Okay, Sasuke, just remember you have to dress real spiffy – Sakura's been going absolutely crazy trying to get this down. She told you about the mafia right?/
"The Triad?" I say, amused.
/That, and some nuisance with the Cosa Nostra. Several governments are also giving her trouble, so she asked me to clear some things over with the FBI here.../ He rambles on.
My eyes leave the paper, and my hand lowers the coffee cup. Furrowing my eyebrows, I interrupt, "You are serious. Sakura is in some kind of trouble."
/Oh yeah. But she asked for it, y'know. Came with the job description,/ he laughs.
"Naruto..." I begin hesitantly. The cup hits the granite. I lean forward, fully engaged in the conversation now. "What's going on?"
/Hm?/
"Why is Sakura getting involved with these people?" I demand, irritated by his lighthearted tone now. First the stammering over something as trivial as a visit, and now joking over something like this. And unless Sakura suddenly became an international drug lord, my mind can't piece together any part of this conversation. "How is this related to her work?"
/Sasuke...?/ It's Naruto's turn to be confused. /Is this like a trick question?/
"No, it's not. What's going on."
/Yo, she's working for Itachi of all people. This kind of shit is a daily occurrence... Come on, even I know that they face crazy stuff like that...
/Hello...?/
I stare at Itachi, cellphone lowered. His gaze rises and meets mine, before he hands me back my paper, completed.
I ignore it.
"You hired Sakura."
When he says nothing, a sudden wave of indignation bubbles through me. "You never mentioned this." My voice comes out harsher than I intended, but he knows I hate being left out in the dark, and I am sure my ex-girlfriend working for him falls under the jurisdiction of inform Sasuke. It isn't like he hasn't had the time to do so, having been here three days and Sakura coming up in conversation thrice.
Actually, forget that. Itachi can tell me nothing, as he usually does, Sakura can do whatever she pleases, as long as she's fine. I am mad over the fact that Naruto knows this, but I do not.
"We agreed to a double loss, Itachi," I remind. "Answer me: how long has Sakura been working for you?"
His facade only falters briefly, and whatever uneasiness I sensed quickly faded to resignation. "Two..."
"Months?"
"... years."
My brain racks for answers. Two years... she has been with Itachi since college graduation?
Currently in charge is a recent Harvard graduate.
A lot has happened in Munich...
Very charismatic, assertive, and innovative. Incredibly strong. Also one of the most brilliant people I've met.
Itachi's there. I'm sure he'll entertain me if I get restless.
It doesn't take long for my mind to piece everything together and solve the puzzle.
"Itachi," I begin, cooly, collectedly, and yet with my breath caught in my lungs and my nerves surging in anticipation and panic. "What else have you forgotten to inform me?"
A pause.
Then, a sigh. "You never do answer your phone, Sasuke."