Pretty Little Devil
Chapter Three. Isle of a Fool's Paradise.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: None.
Pretty Little Devil
"Isle of a Fool's Paradise."
~ \ ~ Chapter Three Start. ~ / ~
"I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?"
~Sound of Madness –Shinedown~
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The union of death and hesitation resides within the fear of nonexistence and the unknown.
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Though she had long since become synced –mind, body, and soul- with that unearthly period of nothingness and wholeness all at once, the euphoria associated with listening to the innermost crying of someone's nightmare-inducing fear never ceased to pleasure her. The echoing melodies serenaded her into a state of less than being, more than gone, filling the air like a delicate melody. Screams were sustenance for the empty spirit, filling them to the brim with endless satisfaction that they were not the only ones going mad with unbounded suffering. The voids withered the will to live, and no matter how strong the mask was, a shriek could shatter it with a single high-pitched howl, betraying all that they lacked, all that they represented.
The taste of agony was addicting, easily prolonging that habitual notion of shivering anticipation right down to her very existence. Searching for the source, her emerald eyes landed on one of the humans within the room. Piercings cleanly punctured all the possible places to decorate his face, although they only served to further enhance his masculine beauty. Oh, yes, anguish was definitely her favorite. Her thoughts were abruptly cut off when a bittersweet aroma wafted past her nose.
Drifting from another man several feet away was the smell of betrayal; a rich perfume interlaced with the salty air of tears and metallic aftertaste of dried blood. It was peculiar, if not rare. The black haired human was expressionless, another man with a mask, shielding a crying thirteen-year-old with no place left to go but down from the outside world. What was it about hiding that had humans believing they were so tough? Strength was proven in direct confrontation, facing something head on and dealing with it rather than cowering behind false bravado and concealed emotions. The notion just proved how young and inexperienced the human race truly was.
A pity really; this group had so, so much potential.
Solitude.
Hopelessness.
Terror.
Mercy.
Disgust.
Sorrow.
Horror.
Agony.
Betrayal.
A delicious medley of only the darkest human emotions. (1)
The pitches were rising, higher and high, climbing octave by octave, step by step, up the grand mountain of insanity as boulders of hate, love, and murder crumbled. Their well-being rested inches from the consuming canyon of loss that only grew with each passing moment; out of control to the point of callous extent. Perhaps, once their last lifelines fell, they might make fundamental additions to her collection of pawns.
Only time would tell.
As the noise began to quiet, the candles flickered, flames dancing away the darkness as light filtered throughout the room. The black mist sought her body like a wounded child seeking their mother. They wrapped once, twice around her form, shrouding her image from view in an act that defied all scientific law.
The silence that followed was deafening, leaving a ringing tune that echoed in repetition. A moment passed before the group took action, noticeably drawing weapons of all shape and size from the hidden pockets and sheathes on their persons. It was laughable, seeing as how any attempt a mere mortal tried was ultimately akin to that of a flee latching onto the rough skin of a dog. In fact, that was what they were: pests that needed to be squashed underneath the heels of the strong.
The orange-haired man stepped forward, the movement proclaiming him the leader of the disgraceful organization before her. "Who are you?" His voice was commanding, no doubt a tenor that could intimidate even a Shadowskipper (2) if given the opportunity. She idly wondered what he might sound like as his lungs were engulfed in his own blood, drowning with unsuppressed gurgles, struggling to breathe the clean air of the mortal realm…
"I go by many names." Feminine, yet sultry, her words resounded through the air, strong and tight to rein in her growing anger. How long had it been since she decided to let the maggots have their freedom? How many months, years since she had struck unfathomable dread into their hearts to act as limiters to the foolishness they committed? It had been a while. They had grown daring in her absence, forgetting just who had the final say in the world's order.
The leader shared a look with the red-eyed man from before. Ah, so that must have been the reason for the delectable scent earlier: an Uchiha. The clan had always held a particularly unique aura, even after the one standing before her had slaughtered them all –with help, of course. Sharingan, a kekkei genkai they called "Heaven's Eyes"; why they called them that, she would never know. Bearing in mind the fact that the origins of the doujutsu were anything but 'holy', it was absolutely ridiculous. Her train of thought was severed when that authoritative voice demanded, "Show yourself."
Hatred swelled like an elegant Casablanca Lily blooming only for the white, radiant moon in the night sky. Perhaps there was no time like the present. Showing the humans who truly had the right to give orders couldn't wait. It happened in a moment of completely blind, unexpected action on their part. She on the other hand, had always known she would feel his soft throat underneath her palm. It was an eerie sight; a pale, slender arm jutting out from a mass of black several feet in the air, like a severed limb finding the power and ability to continue its destructive path even after death. She reveled in the intoxicating bliss of utter dominance, knowing that his life could simply end with the twitch of her hand. His trachea rippled beneath her fingertips and she squeezed, eliciting a choked gasp before any realization could come to pass.
"Know your place, insect." She snarled, anger a tangible substance, coiling like a cobra poised to strike. Her fingers tightened and then, rapidly, they slackened. The vacant cavity in her chest was suddenly overflowing with tangible chains that rattled unpleasantly against her insides, tugging at her will, loosening her lust to snap his neck. It was like a bucket of water had been poured onto her torrid thoughts, simmering the fiery abhorrence that once fueled her resolve.
To her absolute horror –something she had not felt since Before-, she recognized the feeling, having dealt with it once before. Memory upon memory flashed through her mind, one after the other, in a continuous tirade of tense recollections.
"Child, this is the price you must pay for the unforgivable sin you have committed."
In that fleeting moment of enlightening realization, her hold on the cloak of shadows slipped, doing exactly what the mortal had asked. The swirling mist-like apparitions twirled away from her porcelain white skin like soft feathers riding a swift breeze. Slowly, her bare feet came into view, the black lifting and leaving only the anticipation of a show piece as the curtain concealing it was unveiled for the first time.
"You are bound to this fate for 12 millennia."
She remembered the utter loss, the bottomless oblivion that had become her life –'un'life rather. It consumed her entire being, overriding, overpowering, overwhelming. It was in that aching moment where she made a promise. She would own up to her punishment. She would never feel the excruciating emptiness ever again. No more. No more. No more.
"Watch over the world from your deep prison."
Life continued as-per-usual. It always did. Her special people, the ones she had left behind, been taken away from, continued as if nothing had ever happened. The memory of that little girl, the embodiment of cherry blossoms, had been forgotten; existence wiped clean from the Earth.
"Govern the passage of souls, and fetter the evil budding on Earth."
There was never a face she couldn't recall. Perhaps it came with the trade? How cruel they were to make her unable to forget; forget her friends, forget her family, and forget him. It would have been so much easier if she could erase it all, like they had done with her presence. This was where her hate started.
"Only once this task and quota is fulfilled may you receive forgiveness…"
Maybe she didn't want amnesty. She wasn't innocent. She wasn't kind. She was ugly. Dull. Repulsive. But they weren't any different. They were worse. They made mistakes day after day, and she watched them. She watched and she watched and she watched and she watched.
"This is your duty."
The giver of second chances. The one who steals life away. A contradiction. An inconsistency. This was her purpose, the sole reason for her reality.
Yet, there she stood, surrounded by the objects of her odium. The astringent pull where her heart once sat was a dead-giveaway. Only one thought continued to scream its sound of madness within her mind:
What have they done?
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"Thank you for reminding me,
Of why I'm sick inside.
Thank you for the venom, did
You think it would paralyze?
These scars I scratch, I tear,
Are there under my skin,
Where you've always been.
Thank you for reminding me,
To sin with a grin!"
~Sin with a Grin –Shinedown~
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The lapse of a single second may prove to be the end, hopefully a glorious end, and sometimes a beginning, only the start of another thousand single moments you'll recall for the rest of your days.
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To say his breath had hitched would have been an understatement. The harsh intake flowing through his lungs burned like water inhaled through the nose, stinging like frostbite on the fingertips. It hit him like the kick of one of his clay bombs, swarming his body with unreserved shock and excitement. A childish feeling bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and the urge to smile like a kid on Christmas morning tugged at his lips. Never before had anything felt so satisfying. His ice blue eyes roamed her ethereal figure like a parched man in a desert would to a hidden oasis. Oh, yes, Deidara was captivated.
The others were no less astonished. Kisame and Hidan's eyes were wide, almost comically so. It wouldn't take a genius to see they were both astounded by her presence. Danna was tense, as tense as his inhuman body could be. His joints looked painfully tight, grinding against the pins holding his limbs together. Konan held an air of nonchalance, though Deidara could tell she was concerned for her partner's safety. They always had been inconceivably close, but Deidara had suspicions that it was purely brother and sister love, if love at all. The annoying brat was oddly silent, nowhere close to shouting random spews of nonsense like the blonde had thought he would be doing.
The bare skin of her feet and thin, toned arms was a pale, creamy pallor, contrasting brilliantly with her crimson silk dress that clung to her willowy body like a second skin and flowed down her long legs like a canvas. Luscious locks fell in sculpted waves to frame her face and bounce like a ceremonious crown upon her head. She was art. Yet, he didn't want her to end. He didn't want her to go out with a "bang", like he so ruthlessly preached in screaming fits. He wanted her by his side, as a child wants a shiny new toy.
As if responding to his strapping urges, she slowly twisted her neck, so that her eyes connected with his. It seemed as if every color of green had clashed in order to create those orbs; emerald, jade, olive, forest…Swirling like a hurricane of passion, a cold wind of cruelty collided with a warm gust of hatred, powers winding round and round about a storm of knowledge that howled like a wolf in the moonlight. If eyes were the gateway to the soul, then hers was nothing more than a raging tempest, seeking to destroy anything within its path: dazzling.
Too soon she turned her attention to look at the Uchiha, directly in the eyes. Strangely, Deidara had two incredibly different thoughts about this. Only two, as if his mind had become a one-way tunnel with only the beauteous woman within the light at the end.
Don't get captured in his gaze! Don't look away from me!
"Where is it?" Her voice was like bells ringing in perfect harmony. An animalistic growl was vibrating in the back of her throat, predatory and feral. Itachi –the spineless germ- didn't move, only proceeding to stare at her blankly. His red eyes narrowed slightly, trying and failing to put her into his Tsukuyomi. She, however, did not plunge, but clenched her fists, taking a threatening step towards the stoic man. Deidara felt an outlandish respect and longing pool in his chest. "Tell me where the scroll is!" she screamed, lip curling into a snarl. The air within the sealing room suddenly became heavy, as if her words were a tangible force –a force to be reckoned with.
With hesitation in his gesture, Uchiha slipped a hand into the confines of his cloak. A moment later, he withdrew a worn-looking scroll, proceeding to toss it to the livid woman. Deidara resisted the urge to groan, already knowing at first glance that the parchment was something they shouldn't have messed with. Curiosity was the killer of many men, though the main reason led back to their own stupidity. He believed that this was such a case.
If there was one thing Deidara knew, it was that some things were better left untouched. However, bearing in mind the fact that this situation was something completely foreign and unfamiliar, he could not decipher if the consequence of possibly signing up for something that could spell their end was worth seeing such fine art in the flesh.
Her slender hands peeled open the object, eyes flitting spastically across the hidden information. They now held a solemn emotion, as if she already knew what would be written, and was resigned to her fate. It was a cold sort of acceptance, like she knew it could not be changed, but would find every loophole and way out there was. 'To fight against all odds, and still come out victorious.'
Leader, as if finally snapping out of a heavily drug-induced daze, approached her. "You are not Kemono no Igen." Deidara nearly flinched, for he had used the 'voice'. He may not have been a part of the Akatsuki for as long as the others, but he could still tell when to turn-tail and give in. Eccentric he was, foolish he was not. When Leader was irritated, he was scarily calm, even more so than usual. When he was angry, on the other hand, he could make even the devil run for the hills, or so Deidara thought.
The pinkette turned, as if realizing he had spoken for the first time, and merely chuckled, as if the thought of Leader's rage was a laughable matter. She was either exceedingly imprudent or simply unafraid of death. Although, it could have been that death wasn't what she was confident about…maybe she was undaunted by Leader's power, a feat not even the ones inhabiting the room could call their own. "Kemono no Igen? Perhaps. They call me many things. Kemono no Igen is only one of them. Though, you may call me Sakura, silly human."
Rinnegan eyes narrowed into thin strips as Leader tranquilly seethed, "I am God. You will address me as such."
She blinked, eyelashes a flurry of movement, touching her high cheekbones with a butterfly's soft kiss. Raising a finely sculpted pink brow, she said, "Oh? Will I now?" Her image blurred and she appeared behind Leader, hands around his neck, lips by his ear. If not for his highly trained ears, Deidara would have missed the breathy statement she whispered, "Why should I, when God is the one who did this to me?"
Silence.
"Explain." Short, curt, as always, Leader.
"Watch your attitude, boy. You are a thousand years too young to be ordering me around. Nonetheless, I suppose an explanation is called for in this situation." She rolled her shoulders, crimson silk rippling like waves of the ocean. "What you preformed is called 'Ketsueki Kankei no Hoshyo'(3). Under contract, with which you are fastened to by blood, we are bound. I am obligated to help you carry out what is it you seek to do, as well as keep you alive." She looked at each of them, rose-petal lips curving at the corners into a wry smile. "However, in return, after your death, you all are required to serve me for all eternity."
Silence once more.
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"Tell my mother, tell my father I've done the best I can,
To make them realize this is my life, I hope they understand.
I'm not angry, I'm just saying,
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance."
~Second Chance –Shinedown~
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"What is the meaning of this?" Leader thundered, chakra running rampant, creating stale air. Sasori watched the lines of anger crease around Leader's eyes, fingers itching to tinker with one of his puppets. The action was understandable, considering what the female had just said.
Sasori found the prospect infuriating. How could he be bound when he was not even human? It was ridiculous and the more and more time he spent with the prolonged ceremony; the further he believed it was a complete waste of his precious time.
Not only was the woman's mere presence unsettling, Sasori found that the longer he stared at her, the more he realized how much a piece of artwork she was. Her beauty was unearthly, and her vitality was more eternal than even his puppets, for his puppets could be smashed, but something about her charisma led him to believe that she had already been broken and still stood tall.
The only organic facet of his body was beating fast, radiating the dreadful emotions he so desperately wished to rid himself of. Yet, this sensation was unlike anything he had felt even before his transformation. It was hot and cold at the same time, docile and fervent all at once. He didn't know if he liked it.
The radiant being looked unbelievably irate, mouth set in a tight line to keep from gnashing her teeth. Pink locks appeared to be winding and flowing in smooth waves around her face, slender fingers clenched. "Did you not heed the warnings?" she hissed, lips curled. Her gaze abruptly turned toward the Uchiha, as if condemning him for her ill fate. "Ignorance is your downfall, for this cannot be undone. Our souls are tied with an everlasting wire that can only be broken by death. I am as bound to you in control and loyalty as you are bound to the inevitable fate that is my lifelong chore."
"Chore?" Sasori heard his young partner ask, most likely to himself, but she had heard.
"Death."
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"You better pray that there's another way out.
You better pray that someone's listening now,
(And doesn't want to watch you drown.)
'Cuz when you lie you're like the devil himself
No angels gonna hear your cry for help!"
~Cry For Help –Shinedown~
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~ \ ~ Chapter Three End. ~ / ~
The screaming was merely a figment of their imaginations. It was something akin to a hallucination or recollection of all the bad things that have happened in their pasts, like a symbol for the massive influence of insanity their lust for power, revenge, escape, etc. has created. Kind of like their potential for breaking. So, everyone heard screaming, but it wasn't really there. You wanna guess whose screams each emotion belonged to?
Solitude: Sasori (shown in his need for his parents embrace even after their death.)
Hopelessness: Hidan (shown in his Curse Technique, how its victims can only feel utter hopelessness as they watch him stake his own heart, in turn, killing them.)
Terror: Kakuzu (shown in his horrific stitching that is ultimately inescapable, as well as in the experiments he used to perform after he turned bad.)
Mercy: Kisame (shown in Samehada's chakra absorbing ability, how it doesn't stop until every last drop of chakra is gone.)
Disgust: Deidara (shown in how people shunned him because of his peculiar kekkei genkai.)
Sorrow: Konan (shown in her compassion for Pein and the loss they faced since childhood.)
Horror: Zetsu (shown in his ghastly appearance as well as his cannibalistic appetite.)
Agony: Pein (shown in his hatred for the human race in general since Yahiko's death {murder}.)
Betrayal: Itachi (shown in his actions involving the Uchiha Massacre as well as the feelings shown by his younger brother, Sasuke.)
Shadowskipper- A demon who reins its powers from shadows –as in, from the mirror images cast from the lighter sides of people. It takes the appearance of a large vulture-like bird with a sharp beak curved downwards and two horn-like appendages on the base of each of its wings. It's said that the blood of a shadowskipper was spilled into a fresh cut of the first Nara child, in turn starting the Shadow-based kekkei genkai of the clan. (This is completely my idea. Shadowskippers as well as where the Nara clan's powers originated.)
Ketsueki Kankei no Hoshyo- Literally translated from Japanese into 'Compensation of Blood Relations'.
A/N: I AM SOOOOO SORRY! I promised a whole bunch of people I would have this up by LAST SATURDAY…but, as you can see, that didn't happen. Well, my Spring Break is actually happening right now, so I'm going to be in the middle of nowhere, with little internet access, so….hopefully, I'll find Muse in the numerous trees and abundant greenery that which we call "Farmland". Yes. I'm so bored that I've decided to sit under a tree in the middle of a big, wet forest in order to write for you guys. I just hope that ominous growling is indeed my stomach like I think it is…
Anyway! There were a lot of difficult-to-explain scenarios and ideas that I think I hinted at rather successfully in this chapter. If you're confused with ANYTHING, please feel free to PM me. I'll gladly explain it to you. Also, some of you are probably thinking, "Wow, how unrealistic. She attacked Pein and they didn't move to kill her right then? Totally out of character…" Yes, it is out of character –if this were part of the real Naruto series…The summoning –as explained above- goes both ways. It doesn't just keep Sakura from killing any of them; it makes her not want to. Like, completely realigning her feelings in order for her to wish to protect them and make their goal a reality. In return, the people apart of the binding feel safe around her, as if they know she cannot touch them, which is why they feel they don't need to attack. Make sense? I hope so…
Also, I'm still confused with the whole "Tobi ordeal", so we're just going to go with Tobi being Madara in disguise, okay? Any objections? None? Good. Cuz I absolutely adore Madara.
One more thing: I don't plan on making everyone instantly fall in love with Sakura. Each will fall for her in different ways, over time. Deidara is the youngest of all of them, so he is portrayed as someone who is impulsive and might easily jump for the chance to be with Sakura, rather than waiting and making sure his feelings are true before jumping. Get it? I'm huge on character development and absolutely abhor when a character changes personality at the drop of a dime. So, no, the Akatsuki will not stay all broody and gloomy, but they will change gradually. Okay? Okay.
Thank you to all those who voted! I have two polls up now, one for this story as well as another for the next story I should upload! I'll be switching them every time I get the chance, so be on the look out! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE VOTE! For both!
Also, a special appreciation for those who reviewed!
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Love. Love. Love.
Kiss. Kiss.
~Alice