Such wonderful R&Rs, now I feel guilty throwing this one at you. I can only say, in early defense of this chapter, that the story was heading in this direction from the beginning. And that it still has a way to go - if you can bear to hang in there...
Chapter 7
They made their way into the partially- crumbled amphitheater, moving down the cracked, uneven stone steps to ground level. It was well outside of the boundaries of Fire Country, and they had finally reached it after a day's hard travel.
Their escape from Konoha was a testament to Jeninki's elite skills. It was almost unbelievable that they could have slipped away so unnoticed. Iruka detected no followers; he assumed that Jeninki could sense an even larger perimeter, and he hadn't mentioned any pursuit.
Most of the trip Iruka had tried to stay no further than arm's length from the larger and faster nin, to cling close enough to make sure he wasn't left behind. His efforts had gone largely unnoticed in the brutal speed of their travels. Those insecure, clingy feelings were fading the longer Jeninki ignored him and refused to stop and take the time to look at him. That was more to the point; they hadn't made eye contact in hours.
"Where is everybody?" Iruka asked, oddly having to pay close attention to his footing to keep from stumbling on the broken stone. His normal chakra balance was still off, so he had to slow down to take in his surroundings and remain steady on his feet. The stands would hold a thousand people, he guessed. But it looked like no one had been there in a very long time.
"Keep coming. Down here." Jeninki wasn't having any trouble with his movements; he had flown down the steps effortlessly and was growing more excited. He stopped and waited, fidgeting constantly, until Iruka caught up. An arched entrance led to a long hallway that sloped down into the earth. It did seem like there had been some activity here more recently. They trotted now, deeper and further into darkness until they approached another archway radiating light. When they moved through the opening and reached the enormous underground room, Iruka stopped and stared.
Skylights had been tunneled into the ceiling, providing stark, glaring rods of sunshine to light the cavernous earthen space. Their movement had stirred up powder-fine clouds of dust that drifted up in swirls and glittered lazily as they emerged out of the darkness. The stone flooring reflected the glare so harshly that the its intricate mosaic patterns were nearly impossible to interpret.
The perimeter of the room was difficult to make out, the rim of shadowy darkness lost in the contrast. The walls were lined with dozens and dozens of figures, and at first Iruka thought they were sculptures. But as his eyes adjusted, they came more clearly into view. Most were skeletal, but two were relatively fresh. Rotten and not quite past the bloating stage, they were now starting to feed nature's crypt keepers. The lifeless flesh was full of life, teeming with maggots and rats.
"See?" Jeninki said proudly.
Iruka slowly turned, gaping as his mind struggled to comprehend. Instinct urged him to flee, to take a defensive position. His body stiffened against retreat and his feet remained firmly planted, disobeying him completely.
"What do you think? Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy?" Jeninki twirled with his arms outspread and laughed, enjoying the way his hair flew out with centrifugal force. "I need my robes. I need them to swear you in."
"Jen. Jeninki!" Iruka said tightly. "Where are the people? Your citizens?"
"Are you blind? Just look around you, they're all here. Don't be shy now. There are those Leaf nin they got so tweaked about. See those smiles? See them?"
"You killed them?"
Jeninki ignored his breathless question. He stood involuntarily frozen, in stunned silence, until the enormity of the situation truly sank in.
"All of these people, you killed them all?" Iruka shook his head, trying to clear it, the dull haze finally lifting enough to process it fully. Why had he believed all that crap to begin with? His own behavior frightened and puzzled him nearly as much.
Jeninki finally spoke, fingertips lightly tapping his own chin in positive introspection.
"I naturalized them. They're fine, Iruka, every last one of them. Be patient, I need my robes. Go up closer to them and look at the smiles. See what true happiness is."
"They have no faces, Jeninki, you crazy son of a bitch! They're dead! You lied to me, you said they were all right, that you set them free!" Go up to them? He couldn't move, something was wrong with his body…the clearer his thinking became, the more evident the lack of control over his movement became. His hands quaked with shock; Jeninki wasn't even fazed by his outburst.
Jeninki paused, looking primly at the upset man. "I did set them free. Dead, what does that word even mean? Those are just words in a contract, something for the accountants. The important thing is that they are now the cherished citizens of my village, and I am the lord of them all; the benevolent and powerful ruler who allows them to be totally, completely free."
Iruka turned away, blasted by the realization. He'd thrown everything away for the ravings of a lunatic. The retribution he'd receive if he went back to Konoha was more than he could face. The perfect village worth giving his life for was non-existent. And the kind, considerate man that wooed him with such beautiful words was a delusional murdering psychopath .
Hands wrapped around his waist from behind, and he saw now that Jeninki had found his robes. The arms that encircled him were clad in emerald green silk with gold embroidery. The shock that went through his body, clenching all his muscles tight, told him the man's chakra was obscenely powerful and completely unbound. His own chakra was back now; but as always he found himself mismatched, up against the best with mediocre strength. Indeed, he was already trapped to the spot and unable to break away.
He laughed at himself bitterly, deep in his miserable soul, the last of his hope and pride flushed away. What a fool. Nothing had ever existed so perfect as Jeninki had described. Men in this dangerous age weren't free, except free to die.
"These men are free, don't obsess over the empty shells and ignore the bliss of the village beyond. Tell me, my heart, which man there was a civilian, and which one there was sannin? You can't tell, can you?"
Iruka's chin fell and rested on his chest, watching the strong hands caress his flinching stomach with such tenderness it was unreal.
"No," he whispered. "You're right. I can't."
"You feel so good, Iruka. It feels right to have you here. I owe you, you know. Without your help I couldn't have returned here so quickly."
Iruka was silent, staring down. The only thing he was actively doing was maintaining a chakra block on his olfactory senses in order to bear the proximity of the decomposing corpses.
Other than that, his mind had slowed to a halt.
"There's no hurry, you know? I have to stay here and send the others through, keep building our village's strength. But it's been lonely work, and you're such fine company." He nuzzled the crown of the quiet man in his arms, and brought an arm free to slide out the hair tie. They looked similar now, both with their long, dark hair cascading on their shoulders, bringing out the depth of their dark eyes and framing handsome, remarkable faces.
The taller man was breathing into his hair, nuzzling more, and his hands wandered more seriously.
"Stay with me," he breathed. "Help me build our perfect village."
Pain creased Iruka's brow as the gentle lips brushed his cheek, and he was being turned in those incongruously protective arms, drowning in the cherishing attention. He tried to hold back the tears but failed. The more the taller man tried to kiss them away in concern, the more he lost control, finally covering his face with his hands and growing close to breaking down completely. There was a dizziness in his thinking and it was welling up again, that strange muddling he'd thought was from the chakra block in the cell was still there.
Wasn't there anything that he was forced to bear that came without the extra twist of cruelty? Jeninki was covering his hands with kisses, petting his hair, cooing softly to soothe him.
After a while he stopped, startled out of his tears. He was lifted up, carried across to the entrance, down a corridor to another room, a small living space. Released back onto his feet, he swayed slightly while his host rummaged in a leather-bound chest and brought out wrist and ankle irons and the chains to attach to them. A long thin whip came next, and then a black hood.
"No." Iruka shook his head, pushing away the proffered restraints. He had to make some kind of stand, regain his composure. "I don't want to. I don't want you."
Chakra slammed him against the wall, tinged with anger for the first time. "You aren't free yet. Until you cross into the village, you 're mine to do with as I please."
"No." Iruka felt the last remnants of the false cocoon of Jeninki's caring hold melt away. He saw a murderer now, an insane enemy once more. When the eyes met his, that stare made him gasp. For the first time he saw clearly that the brown eyes were inlaid with large patches of gold, gold that slowly swirled clockwise. He slammed his eyes shut, breaking their intensifying hold. Damn it, without his chakra to see it, he'd been staring into some kind of sharingan all this time and never knew it. It suddenly explained so much; no wonder he had fallen into such bizarre beliefs like a gullible child. But now that explanation helped nothing.
"You aren't free yet, my bird." Chakra pressure held him tight while the shackles were placed nonchalantly and cinched up. "Is it that you've changed your mind? I sense, somehow, that you've lost your faith."
"Let me go. Please."
"You don't like my plan any more, do you? You shunned my village, I saw it just now deep in your eyes. Such beautiful eyes, too." He produced an ornate knife from the same chest the chains had come from. "Still, you have done me a favor. I can't ignore that."
His eyes sparkled with whirlpools of gold as he hefted the blade over his head solemnly until it seemed to glow. "So I will do you a favor in return. I can solve all of those problems of yours. They all start here, with your lying, beautiful face."
Iruka's head pressed back against the wall, away from the hand that touched his cheek. "No!"
Jeninki nodded. "Your face is so attractive. But you don't really want that kind of attention, do you? I've seen clear down into the very dirty, grubby bottom of your soul. Everything about you is a lie; and this, this is the biggest one." The knife traced against his temple, razor sharp and effortlessly drawing a seam of welling blood. "Don't…move…" Jeninki barely breathed, intent on his work.
He disobeyed, flailing hard against the restraints, the chakra, the fucking unfair world. There was no jutsu or practiced move that could be made trapped as he was, just furious, outraged, humiliated struggle, of no consequence against his powerful captor's methods. Jeninki waited, displeased, drawing away the blade. It had caused a bobble in the careful incision, an imperfection. He took his free hand and gripped Iruka's forehead, slamming it back so his head was solidly against the wall. With a lance of chakra he froze it there, his overwhelming power seizing it against the smallest of movements. It amused him that the eyeballs took up where the rest of the body left off, rolling wildly. "You're sure you don't want to be with me now?" He asked, a light, attentive look on his face. "You've really decided against joining my village?"
Iruka was now restrained in such a way that he couldn't answer even if he'd had one. The blade resumed its journey, tracing down around his jaw, under the chin, back up and around until the cut met in an unbroken line. He pulled the blade away, nodding judiciously, and darted the sharp tip into the span of flesh below the nose, cutting an oval just around the lips. Then around the nose, swerving wide to include the scar, and then around both eyes individually. His intensity on his work locked out the rest of the world.
"So it's true. You won't join me after all. Very well, then. For your lies, I sentence you to return to your miserable Konoha and your miserable life. For your help in returning me to my throne…I will use my powers to bestow a measure of mercy on that life."
Jeninki had never been so fascinated by someone. Never had he been willing to let them cede from his land. But when they were here and so close, all that existed was this man; this strange, passionate, angry, lying angel…and the task to be completed. This god-like act would place Iruka under his influence forever, even if they never crossed paths again. The incisions were finished, just to his liking. He placed his fingertips on the comely face, fingers spaced apart, and began to sing.
His voice was breathy at first, the song nearly too quiet to hear. As he got a little louder, the unfamiliar language formed a chant, and the flesh under the large hands began to shrink away from its incised borders. Iruka was arched uselessly against the wall in agony as the skin curled and shrank until it fell away. His face oozed with the loss of the epidermis, and Jeninki ended the song with a sigh and smiled.
"Now. Now you have harmony with your face, your heart and your mind. There's a certain dignity in being ugly, I think you'll find. And you can go back and be a little bit free, because no one will want to use you ever again."
"You can thank me another time, I'm very tired now. Disappointment makes me very weary. You weren't hoping for the whip, were you? I changed my mind about that. I don't think I like you that way after all, and there's no point in getting attached to you if you're just going to leave."
Iruka's eyes widened, darting back and forth suddenly. Jeninki shook his head sympathetically. "What is it, pet? I really do feel a bit sorry for you, I know you fell for me hard back there. I did appreciate your gesture there in the cell. You have a very sweet way of being intimate, has anyone ever told you that? If only our situ-"
The head flew forward in mid-sentence, spraying a fan-shaped mist of blood as it parted company with the shoulders it had just been attached to.
The look on Kakashi's visible face as he sheathed his katana and ran up to stand helplessly staring wasn't one Iruka had ever seen, or ever wanted to see again.
Ibiki shielded his horror and revulsion much better, stepping in and pausing to give the decapitated head a toe to roll it face up and check for possible recovery jutsu. There was none. The man was indeed dead.
Iruka's eyes shut. It should have been some sort of relief that they had saved him, but then, he had come to be here by betraying the interrogator and turning his back on his village and duty. He had defected and they had hunted him down without delay. There would be no help from these men now.
"Easy," Ibiki said, strong hands supporting him. He'd pitched forward, slung low on the chains, no longer plastered upright with chakra now that the his captor was dead.
Iruka kept shaking his head, letting it hang, denying the world.
"We'll get you out of here."
He shook his head still, letting the exaggerated swing make him dizzier, refusing to communicate.
His unbound hair was stuck to the majority of his raw fleshless face. I should have joined Jeninki's village after all. There's nothing left for me in Konoha now but prison or execution.
"Hatake, snap out of it. Get his other arm." They were careful then, as if they were moving a friend or a comrade. Iruka's mind whirled in nausea and a strange, disjointed feeling.
"He's still under a little." It was Hatake Kakashi's voice, but the inflection warped the threads of reality even further. It sounded human and worried, a tone from the far past, and most assuredly not appropriate here.
"Yeah, he might be. Iruka, just relax. Let yourself go. We've got you." Even Ibiki's voice seemed placating and unreal.
They carried him out of the room and lay him back down in the hallway. An ANBU came swimming into his view towering above, then another. This was it then, they would take him into custody now.
There was talk in the background impossible to hear, the subdued timbre of the voices colored with distress and concern. The words were too low to make out.
"I want you to count backwards from one hundred, Umino-san," the face in the hazy blob of white mask said, doing something he wasn't sure of with his arm that pinched for a moment. "You did a good job. You're going to be fine."
The other mask swam over him now, too. He didn't make a sound, much less count, and everything accelerated away from him, the noise and the pain and the light. In nothingness he drifted away.
tbc