Bittersweet Imperfections
Summary: Crime is nearly gone. Security is pervasive. Memories are digitized. Almost everyone is content with the false sense of perfection that veils the Dominion. But there are those who refuse to fall victim to subjugation, and they see the world as it is—imperfect. Rumors of rebellion graced even the lowest thief's tongue, and from it rose the Akatsuki.
Review Replies (From Amaya)
Your Leader: Thank you for the approval, err, Leader-sama?
Guest: Thank you!
Diego: Thanks for the review, Diego. I'm so glad you enjoyed the prologue, and greatly hope that you'll be just as pleased with the first chapter!
Alexia: Hehe, I'm so glad to see that you're following another one of my stories! It really warms my heart to see such devout support!
Sakura-and-Nami: I've read three PeinXSakura stories that was in a futuristic sort of setting, but they were either oneshots or incomplete after three chapters. They're really good; I recommend Bitter Refuge—it's beautiful and emotional and so compelling! I forgot who the author was, but it's definitely worth the read.
Madsbouc: Thank you so much, hun. You are such a wonderful reviewer, and you have earned my gratitude!
Guest #1: Thank you for pointing that out! I have changed that error, and I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter!
LittleFoxDemon: Thank you for the appraisal, Kitsune-san! I hope to see more reviews from you in the future.
Moonloonstar: You are such a wonderful person. J You review all of our stories even after all our faults, and we greatly appreciate it.
Reiame: Awe, thank you so much Reiame-kun! I'm so glad that you were my first reviewer!
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Characters/Pairing: Pein/Nagato & Sakura H
Rating: Mature (see warnings below)
Theme/Categories: Drama, Action, Romance, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Violence, theft, strong language and possible sexual content
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This chapter is dedicated to
Saka Tikoto
since today is her birthday! Happy birhtday Imouto-chan!
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Chapter One
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Perfect by nature—icons of self-indulgence
Just what we all need!
More lies about a world that never was and never will be.
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Fira District—7 Years Ago
The evening sky bore an amusing armor of silver and blue, with ornamental blurs of ink curling about its immortal surface. The moon no longer burnished amongst the firmament, instead cloaking the world in eerie shades of indigo and charcoal and throwing frightening shadows of flickering crucifixes. And the cruel tendrils of iced air, scratching where warmth should caress, shocked the armored men from sleep before they could dare to succumb.
They watched the world around them with a predatory sort of glare, their eyes shifting to catch the meandering shadows etched along the plane of the rooftop—sharp, paranoid, ready. Every movement caught their attention and every sound went heard; even the gentle flutter of spaded leaves went noticed. They stood, like God-appointed sentinels with their staffs gripped in tight-fingered vices and their shoulders squared.
From above their heads, through the thin miasma that poured about the mirrored prisms of the metropolis, bright letters burned with eminence, forming the name Yamanaka.
Soft specks of golden light flickered before their eyes, meandering with the sort of grace of measly flies; and their gentle touch sent the guards crumbling to the ground as electric wisps of fingers clawed at their spines. A moment fluttered by without movement, and the incandescence of the tiny insects gradually died away.
Two figures tore through the dismal vines of silver, revealing themselves as handsome young men armored in inky shadows. They were twins—both sporting hair that burned auburn in color and gifted eyes that sparked like the fairest skies, without a cloud to marble its complexion. Though similar in face, the slightest differences in appearance set them so mildly apart.
The first one let his hair fall in unsystematic spikes and choppy layers about his striking face, and its opulence burned with the semblance of tarnished metal. He stood with the grace of an officer—so confident in stance—and let his lips pull back into a seemingly everlasting smirk of impish intent.
The second seemed to let his hair fall with method and meaning, almost as if its defiance had been tamed, and held iridescent veins of scarlet within its spray. Every movement made held vigilance and precision, and his sharp eyes were narrowed with supposed apathy.
"Nagato and Yahiko speaking; talk to us Konan. What's your status," the second murmured into the headset pressed into the cavern of his ear. The soft percussion of typing fingers thrummed against his eardrums in reply, alerting him of his third's acknowledgment, and he absentmindedly spun a black card between his fingers as his first worked on the lock of the roof's window.
"I've managed to hack into the central security system. I'm looping the past twenty minutes over to prevent detection," a voice, so soft and careful in tenor, suddenly hummed from the speaker of his communicator.
Nagato brought his hand against the communicator again and quietly replied, "Copy that; what is waiting for us on the other side?"
A soft film of flickering light materialized before their eyes, revealing a three dimensional view of the floor beneath their feet. The young men meticulously traced the wavering images of the ambling guards hiding within, their weapons in hand and the emerald splinters of their helmets aglow, and Konan replied, "There are multiple bioreadings on the floor. Take them out quietly then make your way down to the third floor to find the vault. I'll guide you through."
"We can handle that," Yahiko spoke, his lips pulled back into an excited smirk. He ignored whatever it was his partners said, instead working at the clasp around his torso as if it bore the only means of importance. He pulled the silver pendant from its receptacle, metallic coil soon to follow, and set the magnet against the metal of the overhead window entry. Nagato hastily mirrored his procedures from the opposite side of the window, and with a steady count, eased down into the room.
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Bittersweet Imperfections
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The moment their feet touched down on the slick tile of the upper level, the two men disconnected their windlasses from their sockets and melded into the shadows thrown by the dim, overhead lamps.
The two men traveled with their backs pressed against the walls and their weapons drawn, and kept to the darkness lingering over their shoulders to escape the notice of the passing security. There were few points of confrontation with Konan's supportive influence, but in those rare times in which their concealment had been compromised, batons of electric currents worked to hinder the aroused consciousness of the armored security.
It wasn't long before they reached the third level of the Yamanaka building. It was heavily guarded in the sector of their objective, with a high-tech android set in accurate position of play and hidden triggers laying in puckish wait—so much so that hesitance halted the men's once confident steps.
"AK-42; basic intelligence and combatant skills; they're motion activated. Movement within twenty feet of their position triggers activation so be careful where you step."
Konan's warning made their shoulders fall ever so slightly, but the unruly rustette was quick to recover. "We don't have time for that. We'll have to take it head on."
"Yahiko—"
Ignoring the forewarning of his partner's voice, Yahiko stepped forward and let his feet ease across the pressured tile of the grid. Veins of crimson light came to life with his imminence, soon followed by the casual shuttering of the android's joints as it sharply lifted its head.
"Identify yourself," the electronic voice of the AI unit barked, and the clicking of its joints brought forth the warning of its appearing weapons.
"You are a fool," Nagato sardonically muttered as he lifted his fists into a stance of defense, his eyes quickly falling over the awaiting droid. Within moments, the silvery gauntlets around Nagato's wrists gave a low hum as activation set, and the images of Yahiko's visor flickered into nonexistence.
"Threat identified: neutralization mode engaged."
A laugh—a snicker to appease his wicked delight—and Yahiko removed a staff from his hip. It elongated within his grasp, unfolding the way a tripod would, and a spark of blue-green electricity flickered transiently at its unadorned zenith. "You are scared."
He ran forward with his baton at the ready and easily sidestepped the android's tactical aim. The detonation of the droid's rifle reverberated throughout the corridor, and a heavy curse escaped his brother's lips as the guards within his visor turned their directions towards their location.
"Get out of there now!"
Ignoring Konan's frightened demand, Yahiko swiftly parried from the android's sweeping strike, throwing a smirk towards his mate as he jumped into the fight. Together, the duo stepped and twisted in an amusing dance of evasion, their mirrored eyes glinting with mischief.
Armored guards spilled into the corridor, the seams of their armor glowing red as fear and rage drove them forward, and bullets soon after sliced apart the air beleaguered with turbulence. Nagato stepped around the curvature of Yahiko's striking staff and let his fist fly through the air without true target. The air contorted with his movements, and an imperceptible wave of energy blew the bullets back.
Many staggered with hearts pierced by a brother's round, collapsing unceremoniously into a heap of blood and cloth with Death's advent touch, and Nagato was quick to turn the gauge of his gauntlet to equip a pistol. So many fell to his perfect aim, so quickly that whatever thought of retreat had fallen before the sentry could dare consider; and in those rare times in which the perimeter of his safety had been breached, Nagato's bare knuckles would belt across his antagonists' armor, accentuated by the power hidden within his gauntlet's verve.
While Nagato worked the vision of the armored guards, Yahiko carefully brought his staff to strike the side of the android's head then swung the bottom upwards into its jowl. The android stumbled back with the weight behind Yahiko's strike, tainted sparks of twisted metal falling from its superficial wound then brought its fist to slam atop the sparkling tile floor.
The tile began to fold in on itself with the intensity of the android's attack, causing the tile to rise and splinter apart in unsystematic fissures that stretched across the hallway. Yahiko stumbled slightly as his weight shifted, but used the momentum gifted to throw himself at the wall; he rode the concrete with practiced zeal, staff elongated and eyes focused, and touched the ground behind the android. With the twirl of his staff, he struck the metal plating of the android's lower back, forcing his steel dowel through the android's body.
Sparks flickered with Yahiko's strike, tendrils of black fluid rolled over the creases of the android's wound, soon followed by the disengagement of the Bot's dynamism.
Just as he turned to face his brother's foe, a bullet came through and pierced the metal of his pauldron. Yahiko cursed and brought his palm against the blood rolling through his tender flesh, sneering in displeasure as a second wave of twisted metal ran towards him.
"What the Hell!"
"Sorry, I'm taking heavy fire over here," Nagato replied, then turned the gauge on his right gauntlet. Another hum of commencement escaped his weapon of choice, its methodical venture of veins smoldered scarlet with their awakening; and without a moment's wait, Nagato surged forward and plunged his fist into the cast iron wall.
His fist went through, indenting the partition into the likeness of his fist—so much so that the guard who so cravenly hid within the shadows of this barrier had fallen with the damage to his undulating breast.
All around them, bodies lay—twitching, convulsing, trembling within the brothers' wake—and the invigorating tingle of arousal made them catch their breaths before they dared advance.
"You need to get out now. Patrol has been notified of a disturbance; ETA ten minutes."
The brothers shared a collective sigh of displeasure and Konan so abruptly spoke; the intonation of her words had been one of disapproval and annoyance, and the idea of another day's scolding made the young men mumble their restlessness. Nagato fished the blackened card from one of the secreted compartments of his person, then swiped it into the reader resting against the terminal's wall.
The doors slid open so easily, so quietly, that it was almost disconcerting; but they pushed forth after Konan's word of approval.
There was nothing fancy within their immediate vicinity, only a computer—with decadent secrets of misinformation, no doubt—and Yahiko was quick to approach.
But before he could step further than one tile's width, a dagger pierced through his armor, and blood so mockingly tumbled from the emerging swell. His body quivered with his unforeseen stop, trembled as the heaviness of his brother's bewail washed over him, and he sputtered wads of reddened dribble with his attempt to speak.
Silence; there could be no more.
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Bittersweet Imperfections
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Ame District—Present Time
Her vision had been obscured by the sun's radiance, forcing her pupils to contract with their unexpected exposure. For a moment's passing, panic flittered through the young woman's mind as illusions of blood and gore were set to replay; and she could hardly breathe.
Slowly, Konan's fingers twitched into arousal as the horrid residue of sleep dimmed from her expression.
Tired—so, so tired.
She rose from the soothing embrace of her bed and sheets to sift through the hanging robes within her closet. She would need to wash, Konan soon realized as she caught the faint, unobtrusive stench of a day's ware between the stitches of her clothing, and she slowly pulled on some inconsequential blend of clothing she didn't particularly care to memorize.