Again, thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to review. :) In addition, Shakespeare and all of his works are not mine.
-
Itachi is chained to a wall. Literally. His head is pounding mercilessly, and it feels like the chakra has been drained out of every square inch of his body, leaving him utterly unable to even move a muscle.
Sakura sits across from him, in a straight-backed wooden chair, which is the only other item within the deserted dungeon cell. She tosses her hair back, the very picture of composure, and clears her throat delicately. He flinches at the words that he just knows are going to come out of her mouth, but he can't seem to tear his gaze away from her—
"My heart aches with pain," Sakura says conversationally, staring him down with those cool, mint-green eyes, so deep that he could easily drown in them. "When I see you, I vomit."
Itachi cringes, struggling against his chains. "Cease and desist," he manages, his voice hoarse.
Sakura gets up and slowly makes her way to him, sleek and sinister in her tightly-fitting ANBU uniform. She strokes his chest with one finger, slowly, agonizingly, and leans in, so that he can feel her lips brush against the line of his jaw. "Die," the Leaf kunoichi pronounces softly, "away from me."
"No," he gasps, but Itachi can already feel himself slump against the restrictive hold of the chains, his predatory spirit deserting him; Sakura leans in, smirking at his defeat, and everything goes black—
"'Tachi-chan…"
"Oy, Uchiha, un!"
"Itachi-san?"
Hidan scowls menacingly, looking around at the group of Akatsuki clustered around Itachi's bed. "Let's cut the pansy-ass screwing around," he snarls.
Kisame looks at him, alarmed. "Don't—"
Hidan, unconcerned, drops the giant stack of books roughly on the sleeping Uchiha's side. "Wakey wakey, little red-eye!"
It takes one second for Itachi's eyes to snap open, roughly two seconds more for him to snap up and reach for Hidan, murderous intent written all over his face, and it takes another forty-five seconds for Konan and Kisame to wrestle him back against the wall. "No, Tachi-chan," Konan says firmly, almost as if she is attempting to train a rebellious puppy into submission.
"Remember your breathing exercises," Kisame pleads. "Killing Hidan won't help anything!"
"Yes," Itachi pronounces, in his most dangerously calm tone, "it will."
Despite the fact that Hidan has plastered himself against the opposite wall and is currently using Deidara and Tobi as human shields, he still manages to sneer at the restrained Uchiha prodigy. "No, you're just pissed that we all heard you whimpering in your sleep—"
"I was not whimpering!"
"You were too! You were making these sad little sounds like you were some kind of little fucking kitten that got kicked in the ribs—"
"Silence!" Konan screeches.
The word of the sole Akatsuki kunoichi is law; Hidan promptly shuts his mouth mid-tirade, letting go of Deidara and Tobi, who both collapse onto the floor, gasping for breath, and even Itachi stops struggling against Kisame's strong grip. Konan takes the opportunity to pull out one of the emergency chocolate chip cookies she keeps on hand for such occasions, and stuffs it into Itachi's mouth. "'Tachi-chan, you weren't whimpering," she says firmly. "It was just a bad dream."
"You have no idea," Itachi mutters under his breath, while chewing the cookie determinedly.
"What was that, un?" Deidara asks mischievously.
Itachi glares. "Nothing."
Deciding that Itachi has been sufficiently calmed by the cookie, Kisame releases him warily, while Konan keeps a stern eye fixed on Hidan, who is pretending to survey Kisame's collection of Finding Nemo figurines innocently.
"Would somebody have the courtesy to tell me," Itachi begins, his voice dripping with poison, "why I have been awakened in this abrupt manner by a fifty-pound pile of literary material making contact with my spleen?"
Konan, deciding things are safe now – or, at least as safe as possible, considering the circumstances – pulls out a chair and takes a seat, folding her hands in her lap serenely. "The rest of the boys saw fit to inform me of your blossoming correspondence with Haruno Sakura."
"Men, un," Deidara interrupts, in a distinctly pained fashion.
Konan levels a skeptical look at him. "Deidara, the first time I saw you, you were trying to force Itachi to ingest Play-Doh. Do not tell me that has become a widely accepted standard for maturity and masculinity."
Deidara wilts noticeably. "Just because you're dating Leader-sama, un…"
"The coolest shinobi this side of forever," Tobi says, with no small amount of envy.
Konan rolls her eyes affectionately, and turns back to Itachi, who is inspecting the stack of books intently. "Shakespeare?"
"Yes, well – apparently Sakura found your poetry slightly…" Konan trails off, searching for the most diplomatic term that could be used in this situation. "Wanting."
At this point, Kisame, Deidara, Hidan, and Tobi are all hard-pressed to stifle their laughter in the most discreet fashion possible.
Itachi gives all of them looks that promise retribution of the most painful manner (as soon as Konan sees fit to leave the room) before rifling through the pages of the nearest Shakespearean manifesto. "And perusal of these works should help me refine my skills?"
"No, I think Shakespeare is fucking ridiculous," Hidan contributes helpfully.
"You just lack the sophistication necessary to appreciate the true artfulness of his prose, un," Deidara snorts.
Hidan cracks his knuckles menacingly. "Who are you calling unsophisticated, fucktard?"
"You are both in violation of rule number thirty-two," Kisame recites dutifully, before things have an opportunity to get any more heated. "Simmer down."
Konan gives him an appreciative look. "Thank you, Kisame. And, yes, 'Tachi-chan, Shakespeare's works are marvelous examples of prose. If poetry is what you choose to impress Sakura with, then I recommend studying his works thoroughly before your next attempt."
Itachi considers the formidable pile of books. "Kisame and I were slated to perform an assassination today."
Konan waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, yes, well, it turns out that the man got ran over by a bus early this morning. Which leaves you with two days to yourself." She rises, dusting her robes off, and gives him a small smile. "I trust you will use them wisely."
The rest of the room fairly bows flat to the ground as she glides toward the doorway; at the last possible second she turns around, regarding all of them sternly. "If I hear one scream of pain, just one, all of you will lose Vitamin Water privileges for this week."
"Yes, Konan," they all chorus, somewhat resentfully, and she gifts them with a small smile, and slips out into the hallway.
They remain silent until they do not hear her light footsteps any longer; at that point, Itachi promptly leaves the shelter of the bed, grabs the copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and hits Hidan across the face with it, while Deidara clamps his hands over Hidan's mouth to make sure he doesn't scream.
"What the fuck?" Hidan gasps, his eyes streaming with tears upon contact with the formidable tome. "I thought she said no violence!"
"Correction," Itachi says calmly. "She said that screams of pain were forbidden. As long as nobody screams, we are all safe. That was for waking me up at eight in the morning."
He then proceeds to the door, and holds it open expectantly. Tobi looks at him, shocked. "Itachi-san! Are you – are you…kicking us out?"
The orange-masked missing-nin's voice has started to tremble, and Itachi sighs to himself. "I am not kicking you out. I just require some peace and quiet in which to familiarize myself with this new form of poetry."
Tobi launches forward, taking the opportunity to cling to the Uchiha's still-magenta-sweater-covered arm. "We can be peaceful and quiet!"
Itachi directs baleful glares at the rest of his comrades, who are trying their best to look as harmless and inconspicuous as possible. Which is honestly rather difficult, when said group of comrades are comprised of a seven-foot-tall blue shark hybrid, a conspicuously shirtless and rosary-wearing man with silver hair, an androgynous artist with a ridiculously long blonde mane, which may or may not be fake, and…Tobi.
"Fine," he says simply, before returning to his bed, cracking open a copy of Macbeth, and beginning to read.
Itachi is halfway through the prologue before he can feign indifference no longer; he looks up to find Kisame, Hidan, Deidara, and Tobi staring at him with various amounts of incredulity written on their faces.
"What the hell, un?" Deidara asks, tilting his head.
Itachi raises an eyebrow. "What?"
Kisame takes pity on his partner. "Shakespeare's works," he says, "are works of passion." He waits a moment. "Itachi. You're many things – but passionate isn't one of them."
"How is that an issue?"
"Read them aloud, un," Deidara flops back on Kisame's bed. "Get a feel for things. And then write your girl a masterpiece."
Itachi glares around at all of them.
"Motion seconded," Tobi chirps sweetly.
Kisame shrugs. "Third?"
"Fuckin' word," Hidan says, just for emphasis.
"I—"
"Sorry," Kisame interrupts sheepishly. "Overruled."
"I hate all of you," Itachi mutters.
Tobi bounces up and down cheerfully. "Just 'cause you say it doesn't mean it's true!"
In the next second, Itachi's pillow goes sailing through the air, makes contact squarely with Tobi's mask, and knocks him off Kisame's bed. Tobi yelps in dismay and curls up into a ball, as a defense mechanism.
Deidara smirks, now certain that his morning is officially off to a great start.
"When shall we three meet again," Itachi begins tonelessly, looking to the book again, "in thunder, lightning, or in rain?"
Hidan rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "It's going to be a really fucking long morning…" he whispers to Kisame.
Itachi ceases in his reading, grabs another pillow, and looks at the Akatsuki's resident zealot pointedly.
Hidan lifts his hands defensively. "I didn't say nothing!"
"Anything," Itachi corrects, somewhat resentfully, before continuing in his reading.
-
Itachi reads the play out loud for an hour straight; it is surprising that it has even succeeded in capturing his attention, but halfway through Scene III, he is officially, inescapably, irrevocably hooked. His eyes are fairly glued to the page for an hour, upon which he looks up for a fraction of a second, and finds Hidan, Kisame, Deidara, and Tobi all pantomiming the actions to go with his narration.
Deidara laughs nervously when he feels the weight of the Uchiha's glare on his back; he turns around slowly, attempting a smile – which really comes out looking more like a pained grimace. "Did you know theater is a form of art, un?"
Keeping his features as impassive as ever, Itachi carefully marks his page and sets down the book.
-
Pein and Konan are sitting in the kitchen, quietly discussing the whereabouts of the eight-tailed beast over their customary morning vanilla cappuccino and blueberry waffles, when their peaceful breakfast routine is suddenly interrupted by several loud thuds and a long, drawn-out wail of agony. By the time Pein puts down his fork, startled, the same sound is repeated, although, this time, accompanied by a long string of profanities.
They make their way out to the base of the staircase, and find Deidara curled up in a ball, and Hidan lying on top of him, muttering pained entreaties to his god. Tobi has flattened himself against the banister, moaning piteously, and Kisame lies motionless and facedown on the priceless Persian rug.
Pein takes a look at the pathetic tableau and wordlessly retreats to the kitchen, mumbling under his breath about worthless subordinates who lack social skills.
Konan, however, sinks to her knees, and helps pull the nearly-unconscious Hidan off the smothered-looking Deidara. "Thanks, un," the blonde missing-nin manages, wiping some of the blood away from the corner of his mouth. "Itachi's getting really weird, un."
Konan hides a smile. "You know that Tachi-chan has always been – unique, Deidara."
Hidan pulls himself up into a sitting position, irritably nursing the considerable bump on the back of his head. "With all due respect, nee-san, you've turned him into a fucking monster."
The Amekagure kunoichi raises an eyebrow. "Explain?"
"Poetry freak," Hidan says, with a deep shudder. "He's getting really, disturbingly – into it. I wouldn't be surprised if he came down for dinner wearing a fruity little beret, you know."
This mental image takes a few moments to register in the minds of all present; when it does, nobody can stop themselves from recoiling in horror.
-
True to Hidan's prediction, Itachi spends the next several hours nailed up in his room, obsessively reading, rereading, and analyzing each Shakespearean work known to humankind. Halfway through Hamlet, though, this extraordinary pursuit of poetry actually ceases to be about making any sort of impression on Sakura; somehow, inexplicably, he has found the perfect balm for his troubled soul.
Itachi withdraws from his literary analysis only for a quick bite of sushi, and that, only at Kisame's insistence. Much to the dismay of the population as a whole, though, for all of the five minutes that he is in the kitchen, he speaks only in couplets.
By the time that the rest of Akatsuki are sure that he is safely back up in his room again, they all fix accusing glares at Konan; she wilts slightly. "My apologies."
-
It is a little past sunset when Itachi finally places his pen down; his eyes swim, and he brings his left hand up to massage his right, slowly, as he catalogues the results of his work.
His satisfied reverie is broken abruptly by Kisame and Deidara's abrupt entrance into the room. "Oy, Uchiha, un, we're breaking your happy little poetic time because Leader-sama wanted Monopoly—ah, what the fuck?"
This last, horrified, interjection is caused by Deidara very nearly avoiding stepping on one of the hundreds of sheets of paper that litter every square inch of the room. Thankfully, Kisame just manages to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and the artist pinwheels, frightened. "What is this, Itachi?" Kisame asks, intrigued – his partner has always been one for meticulous organization.
Itachi stands up and stretches. "My manuscript, of course," he deadpans.
Deidara stands on his tiptoes, in an attempt not to get even a hair on the papers in his immediate area; he realizes, now, that each sheet of Akatsuki memo paper has been written on, front and back, in Itachi's narrow, elegant hand. "This is your poetic masterpiece for Sakura, un?"
Surprisingly unfazed by Deidara's tone, Itachi proceeds to carefully begin picking up each page, arranging them numerically in ascending order. "Yes. It is."
Kisame decides to help, figuring that there is no way in hell they could find the Monopoly board underneath all of this madness. After a few minutes, when they have all the pages compiled properly, the stack ends up being about half as tall as Deidara's face. "How lovely, un," Deidara winces. "Your prolificacy and devotion are only slightly scary." He pauses, considering something. "But how are you going to send it to Sakura dearest, as the slug whathisname isn't here, un?"
Itachi sets his manuscript on the nightstand wordlessly, before pulling out a weathered scroll inked with several complicated patterns. He cuts a small gash along the pad of his thumb, before pressing it firmly into the scroll.
Kisame blinks. "I didn't know you had an animal summons."
"That's because it's probably something fruity, like a duckling or something, un," Deidara whispers loudly.
Itachi ceases his summoning in order to give him a frosty glare. "In order of importance: The slug's name is Dorian Gray, that statement is rather ironic, coming from the individual who wears fluffy duckling slippers, and I have not utilized this particular summons in more years than I care to remember; it was assigned to me when I had been ANBU Captain."
"Ah," Kisame manages, while Deidara fairly squawks with indignation. However, the sound morphs into a muffled screech as soon as the sleek, crimson-eyed black wolf appears in the space between them.
Itachi spares a moment to give his rival an amused glance, even as he binds the stack of paper with a silky black ribbon and places it into the wolf's waiting mouth. "Haruno Sakura," he explains. "Kunoichi of the Leaf, pink hair, green eyes; only approach if she is alone."
To Deidara and Kisame's surprise, the wolf inclines its head slightly, very much like its master, and flickers out of the room.
"Weird, un," Deidara says, with a heartfelt shudder.
Kisame grins at his partner. "Well, now, since all you can do is wait for Sakura's gushing reply, in which she praises your poetic ability to the stars – you should join us for Monopoly."
Itachi brushes his bangs out of his tired eyes. "…Very well. The stakes?"
"Losing team takes the missions of the winning team for one week." Kisame winces. "Don't make me stuck with Hidan. Please."
Itachi smirks, before unearthing the folded-up Monopoly board from under his pillow. "Interesting indeed."
Deidara gives the Uchiha a dubious look as they proceed down the staircase. "Why did you have that under your pillow, un?"
"It helps me refine my intrinsic Monopoly skills, of course," Itachi deadpans.
Deidara sighs. "Why do I even ask, un?"
-
Konoha
-
"Did he reply yet?" Ino asks impatiently, practically bouncing on the heels of her feet.
Sakura casts a jaundiced eye at her best friend; having that much energy at the end of a long day should be illegal. "This is the fifth time you've asked me, you know. And no." She pulls out the requisite yen notes, and hands them to Ayame with a smile. "Thank you; the ramen was delicious."
Ayame waves her away. "No way, you two, it's on the house." She gives the two kunoichi a mischievous look. "Who's this guy you two have been talking about all this time – Sakura-chan, do you have a secret admirer or something?"
Ino giggles; Sakura cringes at the very thought of Itachi being labeled as a secret admirer. "Hardly. It's just a really, really…weird…guy. Nothing to worry about; Ino's just being neurotic as usual." She flutters her fingers at the young woman in a farewell. "Good night!"
Ayame waves back, before proceeding to close up shop for the night, and Ino and Sakura begin their walk back to Sakura's apartment, which is just two minutes away. "I am so not neurotic," Ino protests, injured. "You didn't scare him away with totally harsh burnage of those haiku he wrote, did you?"
"I did not! It was just – much-needed constructive criticism, and an example of marvelous prose that he should attempt to emulate," Sakura says innocently.
Ino rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder in a way that is disturbingly reminiscent of a certain destructive artist whose acquaintance Sakura had made during her little…enforced vacation…with the Akatsuki. "Sure."
Sakura is just about to reply when the wolf appears in front of her; her witty retort dies in her throat, just as she flings an arm out to prevent Ino from going any further. The animal is large, and its coat is the silkiest black she has ever seen; it would blend into the night completely, if it were not for its scarlet eyes.
Ino squeaks, terrified. "What the—"
As if in response, the wolf advances on them, and both kunoichi take a step back, before Sakura realizes that its posture isn't aggressive in the least, instead, it drops its head, and Ino catches her breath, having noticed the silvery seal between its ears first. "Sakura, it's an animal summons," he sighs. "I don't know anyone around here with something that scary, though."
When the realization hits her, the breath leaves Sakura's body in a long sigh. "That's because only psychopathic S-ranked missing-nin would choose something as purposely intimidating as a black wolf," she whispers, stepping forward tentatively and holding her hand out.
The wolf takes that as invitation enough; he trots forward, gently depositing the formidable stack of ribbon-bound paper in the kunoichi's outstretched hand, and rubbing his snout against said hand, in search of approval.
It is approval that Sakura readily gives; she strokes the wolf's silky fur admiringly. "Aww, you're not too bad, are you?" she coos as she straightens. "Go back to your master, Fluffy," – she hesitates – "and thank him for me, if you will."
Fluffy – also known as BloodRain by his master – inclines his head in understanding, and vanishes.
Ino takes a shaky breath, stepping forward to stand beside her best friend. "Wow," she exhales, staring at the giant stack of paper that Sakura holds. "It looks like he wrote you a novel."
Sakura lifts it to eye level, inspecting it warily. "Oh, Buddha, you're right."
Ino shakes her head. "Damn, Sakura, if Kiba wrote me a novel, I would be ecstatic."
"That's because Kiba isn't a psychopathic mass-murdering S-ranked missing-nin and notorious criminal," Sakura replies dryly.
Ino flops her hand dismissively. "Trivial detail; as long as he cares about you, right? Ooh, it looks like we're at your place – well, I'll just leave you alone to bask in the glory of your novel." She smiles mischievously. "See you tomorrow, Forehead Girl. Call me and read out passages if it's really that freakin' awesome. And I don't care if it's one of those erotic-type novels detailing all the stuff you guys are going to do to each other, you're not running off with him just yet."
Sakura chokes; the idea of Itachi writing Jiraiya-type novels is, quite possibly, the sickest and most freakish concept in the history of forever. "What the hell, Ino?"
Ino waves cheerfully, before forming a set of hand seals and disappearing. "I love you too!"
Muttering darkly about the evils of well-intentioned best friends, Sakura unlocks her apartment, practically falls into it, and promptly throws the manuscript down on the coffee table; she blinks at the rather solid sound it makes upon contact with the aged wood.
She changes into something more comfortable and pours herself a glass of warm milk – after all, she loves to live the vicarious life – before settling in the worn sofa in front of the coffee table. Sakura stares at it for a while.
Logically, she should ignore this. Nothing good is going to come of her reading it. But, she is forced to admit, if Itachi had decided to reply, in spite of the harsh burnage she had issued to him in their previous missive – then maybe he is serious about this. Besides, it seems to just be calling to her from the center of her coffee table; saying, in his soft, silky voice, touch me. Hold me. Read me. Discover every one of my secrets, lay me bare underneath your fingers. I am wrong for you in every possible way, but I am so very willing.
Sakura's left eye twitches slightly.
In the next second, the manuscript is in her hands.
Dear Sakura, it begins,
Hopefully you will find this a little bit more palatable.
- Itachi.
Sakura begins to read.
-
She literally burns the midnight oil in her attempt to finish Itachi's freakin' novel. By the time she is done, it is one in the morning, and Sakura should have been barely able to keep her eyes open, but she is, inexplicably, wide awake. She pads over to the desk and withdraws a sheet of memo paper and the customary gel pen, rubbing her eyes.
Dear Itachi,
I'm flattered. Really. That you would write this whole epic poem in one day, just to win my approval…or something…is amazing.
However, this piece of literature (you should title it, you know) is also sick, twisted, tormented, and I thought the amount of deaths were excessive and unnecessary, as well. Despite all of that, though – it was enthralling. Gripping. If it were anybody else, I may even call it genius, albeit a very strange kind of genius.
Cordially,
Sakura
It should be longer, she supposes; honestly, she could write a full-length academic paper dissecting the subtle nuances of the work, of his prose, of his meanings and motivations in writing this, but it is late, and reading this has given her the specific brand of headache that comes from thinking and analyzing something far too ambiguous.
Summoning Mr. Darcy is an easy matter; the slug pops into existence, Sakura cuddles him for a moment, and then ties the letter to his pleasantly squishy midsection. "Uchiha Itachi, the usual location," she instructs.
The slug squelches agreeably, and disappears. Sakura leans back on her sofa with an exhausted sigh, unable to resist flipping back to the latter pages of the manuscript.
-
Akatsuki Headquarters
-
The rather heated game of Monopoly has just come to an end, and Itachi and Kisame retire to their rooms, basking in the glory of being the winning team; Deidara and Tobi will be performing all of their assignments for a week.
Kisame opens the door first, stretching as he does so. "Itachi, your slug is back," he yawns mightily.
Itachi quickens his step to reach his bed; he pokes Dorian Gray between the feelers peacefully, and then withdraws Sakura's letter, reading through her thoughts quickly. She had finished it within the night – impressive.
Dear Sakura,
Do not flatter yourself. I did not do it to win your approval.
Deidara assured me that Untitled is actually a rather good title for an artistic work, as it prevents the reader from forming any misconceptions or prejudices based on the title alone.
Sick, twisted, tormented; I prefer the term realistic. Death is a natural part of life, and I did not intend on forming something idealistic, sugarcoated, or overly perfect. I suppose that you are just one of the individuals that insists on forming an overly strong empathy and degree of personal feeling and identification with the characters of a literary work. However, I am pleased that you found it – enthralling. If I had written it under an alias, as well, I would have had the immense personal satisfaction of having you label it as worthy of being written by a 'genius'; I can think of no higher honor.
There is no 'normal' kind of genius, Sakura. I had assumed that you would know this by now.
- Itachi
Postscript: Does this mean that you renege on your previous haiku?
-
It is a mere fifteen minutes before she gets her reply; Sakura spends that time dozing lightly, until Mr. Darcy appears, with a squelch, on her forehead.
Dear Itachi,
Ooh, pardon me. So, why did you write it and then share it with me?
Since when do you listen to Deidara?
You have a point, I suppose. And, by the way, it's kind of hard to avoid forming 'an overly strong empathy and degree of personal feeling and identification with the characters of a literary work', when one of the characters in question shared my name and qualities. And yours. And Deidara's and Kisame's and the names of various people I'm acquainted with in Konoha—yeah. You get the picture. What's up with that? Anyway, if you ever decide to secede from Akatsuki, you know that you can make a great career as a poet. Even though your sarcasm translates suckishly onto paper. For a second I honestly believed that you would be happy that I could consider you a literary genius.
I do know this by now. I'm just saying you're a little more unconventional than even I'm used to.
Cordially,
Sakura
P.S (who says postscript, anyway?): I might. Perhaps. Maybe.
-
Kisame is sound asleep by this point, but the gentle blue light given off by the lamp never bothers him, a fact that Itachi is secretly thankful for.
Dear Sakura,
Itachi pauses, and frowns; he has no satisfactory answer to that…I thought you would enjoy it, he writes, even though it strikes too close to home for his comfort.
You are right. I have decided to title this, "Ezekiel."
True. I found it was easier to write about people I have some familiarity with. In all honesty, I enjoy the sensation of writing something unsettling and potentially distressing, because of the emotional impact it has on the reader. It involves them more, in many ways.
Yes, because I would really secede from Akatsuki in order to sell poetry. Perhaps it could be a side career and a way to increase funding. Intriguing.
My sarcasm does not translate suckishly, as you so maturely put it, onto paper. You are simply inadequate at picking up on it. As a matter of fact, though, I am rather satisfied that you consider me a literary genius, as that is a definite improvement over 'creepy,' 'weird,' and 'screwed-up.'
Who says unconventional is negative?
- Itachi
Postscript: I say postscript, obviously. And I would appreciate a little more specificity than that.
-
Upon realizing that she is actually smiling at reading Itachi's latest missive, Sakura physically attempts to slap said smile off her face. She chalks it up to the fact that it's two in the morning, and she is currently in a rather heated correspondence with the public enemy number one of her village, two things which are so completely ridiculous and wrong that it's probably just messing with her psyche.
Dear Itachi,
I did enjoy it. Wow, you're pretty thoughtful.
Ezekiel? That's really – random.
That's something only you would come up with. Of course I was emotionally involved and I cried – when I died, when you died, when Deidara died, when Tsunade-shishou died…you suck, Uchiha.
Wait, what? No! You can't use my idea to create funding for your evil organization! That is so not cool!
…Hey. You can be a creepy, weird, screwed-up literary genius too, okay?
I didn't say that at all. Actually, I find unconventional – to some degree – fascinating.
It's getting late; I may go to bed soon. If I don't reply, it means that I've finally succumbed to the temptation of my warm bed and a good night's sleep.
P.S: That's interesting; you're the only individual I've ever met who says postscript. Why don't you just say P.S? And, fine, I take it back. I don't vomit when I see you.
-
Itachi smirks to himself; his hands and eyes are nearly numb with exhaustion, but he senses progress.
Dear Sakura,
I am. In response to your second paragraph, would you rather I name it after you?
You cried upon reading of my death. I find this highly touching indeed.
When a million-yen profit is drawn from this published work, I will request that Leader-sama name it the Sakura Fund in your honor.
Very well. Rest well, Sakura.
Vindicated (I read your postscript),
Itachi
-
Sakura is nearly falling asleep, but she pens one last reply. "That's it for tonight, Mr. Darcy, I promise," she tells her beloved slug drowsily.
Dear Itachi,
In sequential order:
1: Yes, actually.
2: Damn you.
3: Do it and die.
Good night. And sweet dreams or whatever. …If you sleep, that is, and aren't like some weird kind of vampire…thing.
Too tired to think of an appropriate closing,
Sakura
-
Itachi glances down at the kunoichi's latest letter, and Dorian Gray gives a soft, inquisitive squelch. He picks the slug up and places it on his nightstand. "…Thank you."
Dorian Gray oozes affectionately on his hand.
Kisame stirs, his sleep momentarily interrupted. "You're up late," he mumbles, "or…early. Whatever. How are things going?"
Itachi reclines against the pillows, and allows himself a satisfied smirk. "Very well indeed."
I'm really sorry it isn't as OMG-funny as the rest, but this is a fairly transitional chapter, and a turning point for events to come. Besides, Itachi and Sakura needed to get used to actual correspondence. :O
Anyway, any and all feedback is very much appreciated. :)