The heart of Konoha, with its joy and merriment, seemed to exist in an alternate universe. The Annual Fall Festival. The laughing guests, the amusing games, the wild music. It seemed to be all just a dream, a dream created to blur out the dark, ghastly realities.
In a shady, more sinister part of town, a desperate shriek tried to escape in hopes of reaching the ears of a saint, an angel, a god. But the ignorant music would only drown out the sounds.
Her chest rose and sunk quickly and unevenly as she panted. She was surrounded by darkness and encased with fear. The dark cellar carried a heavy atmosphere, filled with a gruesome stench. Her sweat and tears moistened the blindfold covering her eyes. Suddenly, her blindfold slipped off her damp face and hung around her neck. She instantly regretted her ability to see.
A decaying human carcass was suspended off the ground, strapped to the adjacent wall. Clumps of flesh and entrails covered the floor below it. The smell and the sight made her want to throw up every feast she has ever had.
"AHHHH! SOMEONE! HELP ME!" she cried out franticly, slowly losing hope. Her bony knees buckled against each other as she stood, chained to the cold, stone wall behind her. Her mind was racing.
I'm going to die!
She was going to end up like that putrefying skeleton.
I don't want to die!
She was going to die all alone in the dark.
I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
[5] The Beginning
There was nothing she can do.
"No…n-no…," she whimpered out quietly, despairingly. Her hands and knees were covered in blood, dirt and god knows what else. Her right wrist was shackled by a large, iron cuff that bound her to the wall. She screamed out in surprise as she noticed a sea of red in the middle of the room. "I-I don't..I don't…"
She was going mad.
"You don't…what?" asked a calming voice from the darkness. It sounded like an angel. Has he been here this whole time?
"Hello? HELLO? Please! Help me! I'm trapped in here!" The metal cuff clanged against the wall as she slammed her arm against it, trying to break the restraints while attempting to get the attention of her savior. She could see, but the shadows surrounding her stayed the same. A dim outline of a man stood on the other side of the stonewalled room. He, too, was shrouded in darkness, purposefully avoiding the light.
"You didn't answer my question." His emotionless voice sped through the air.
"What?" she breathed out in disbelief.
Her gasp was caught in her throat. Her blood ran ice cold. This isn't an angel.
"Answer me." He can sound like one. He could look like one. But he isn't one.
He was the devil in disguise.
This is him! "I- I'll do wha-whatever you want!" she sobbed powerlessly. The kidnapper! "Please! Just…JUST DON'T KILL ME!"
"You can start by answering me," he stated impatiently, completely immune to the wickedness of the situation. He sat down on the floor, scrutinizing her, waiting for an answer.
"I-I…," she wept and choked on her tears. "I…don't wa-want to die…"
No response. Just a still, lifeless shadow in the corner of the room.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE," she yelled, suddenly and angrily. It caught him off guard. It looks like she still had some life left in her. "YOU HEAR ME! PLEASE, PLEASE, I DON'T WANT TO DIE! DON'T KILL ME,
DON'T KILL ME!"
Her shrieks were hysteric and ear-shattering. She was losing her grip. Going insane. Lost in the darkness. Lost in her fear. It was beautiful.
Mouth-watering.
.
They've been sitting there for the past three hours. Him, cool and composed. Unmoving. Her, weary and lost. Jittering, weeping, suffering. They were slowly waiting for her biological clock to run out. It did not matter how long it took. He had all the time in the world.
Her eyelids were puffy, lifeless, and raw from the teary river that poured out of her. Her prison cell smelled like putrid, decaying corpses and remains. She figured her corpse would inevitably join them. A dim glow from the hallway shone through the cracks of the door and poorly lit the cellar. She was sitting in a fetal position against the wall, trying as much as she can to avoid the puddle of human blood, splattered on the floor, walls, even the ceiling. Slow, steady drips were falling from above and splashing in the sea of red that crawled towards her, drop by drop. The only other sound in the room was her sob-related hiccups and her psychotic chanting.
"Don't k-kill me…" She rocked herself back and forth. "D-don't…kill m-"
"Shut up already," commanded the low, disturbing voice. Her mouth clamped down faster than a gunshot. If only that would be her method of death, a gunshot: short, sweet, and to the point. But this sick, demented fuck wanted things to go slow…
To let the anguish set in…
To savor this moment.
"You want to live?"
The sudden sound of his chilling voice. Was he being serious? His form remained unmoved from that one spot, covered by the shadows.
"Y-ye-s…Any-nything…" The metal of the chains clanked against each other as she shifted positions. "I'd…do anything, please… Just… let me go."
A rusted knife skidded across the floor and ended up next to her leg. Her exhausted eyes looked up for further directions, but failed to receive any further notion. Her crusted fingertips lifted the knife to her face to get a better look. The serrated edge was coated in rust and dried up blood while the wooden handle was rotting with mold. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of ways she could possibly use the weapon…
"You know what to do."
She really wished she didn't. The only thing that was keeping her from her freedom, her restraints. This iron cuff attached to her wrist. Obviously, a knife this worn down could never cut through iron…
"I'm waiting."
The hostage tried to keep a firm grasp on the handle as she aimed the knife towards her right arm.
I have to do this…I need to live…I have to do this….
She attempted to keep her breathing at an even and relaxing pace. The jagged edge touched upon her wrist. She added some pressure along the knife, onto her skin, but her nerves were getting the best of her. Violent shakes were ruining her concentration.
It's okay…I have to do this.
Tainted air entered her lungs as she inhaled a crucial breath to calm herself. She pulled her arm back, counted to three, and slammed the blade against her wrist. A tormented screech left her lips. A twisted smile graced his.
She was losing her mind.
"ARGHHhh!" she sobbed, sawing the blade against her skin. A deep gash formed under the knife as the blood oozed and seeped down her right arm. Heavy tears trickled down her face. The screams seemed to drown out the excruciating pain. She was shredding through her skin, her flesh, and down to the bone. The rusted, serrated blade reached her hard bone and could no longer cut. Her mind was in shambles as common sense escaped her. She cried out in mind-numbing defeat as she tried smashing the knife against her forearm. Nothing worked. The blade was too dull to cut through. The red ooze circled around her as her whole arm was coated with the warm liquid.
Her audience stood now, intrigued, watching his little experiment. It was so fascinating how far someone would go to preserve such a fragile life.
Pathetic.
Nevertheless, he stood, enjoying what was left of the show from his exclusive front row seat.
"I can't do it!" she moaned and threw the knife towards her executioner in frustration. A deep, gaping wound remained open on her right arm, right under the metal cuff. Just when she thought she had run out of tears, streams kept pouring out of her eyes and mixing with the red splatter on her face and neck.
The defeat. The pain. The end.
Through her watery eyes, she saw the man walk out of the shadows towards her for the first time.
"Need some help?" he asked as if he had no care in the world. He reached behind him and pulled out a sword that glistened even in the dimmest of lights. In a swift motion, he brought down his blade and she was freed.
"GAHHHHH!" She was curled up against herself as she griped her right arm that spewed out blood. The spray reached all corners of the cellar. Her right hand laid a few inches away from her, still caught in the handcuff. The rest of her recoiled from the torture.
'Hmm…,' he thought evenly, examining the weapon in hand. He was getting bored of this game. Her screams were becoming so monotonous. It was almost giving him a headache. He was no longer feeling that vivid rush. Looks like it was time for the finale.
Moist, grief-stricken eyes looked up. A minute later, they ended up on the other side of the room.
Ebony eyes glanced at the midnight-black titanium watch resting on his arm. The face of the clock signaled that it exactly eleven at night, giving him plenty of time for clean-up. With a few flicks of the wrist, the once-intact body turned into a mangled pile of slaughtered tissue and gore. Seeing as how the dirty deed was accomplished on his property, he decided to leave the chunks for the rats. Maybe one day someone will find rotting bodies in here, and the gruesome discovery would fuel the "haunted" rumors all over again. That would keep people away for good…
The vampire licked the tips of his fingers and wiped down the Kusanagi before sliding it back in its sheath. He picked up a syringe that played a crucial role in today's killer performance. He really had to thank the Medical Center for letting him just waltz right in, and take whatever the hell he wanted. Such kind people.
After skimming through his vast collection of literary heirlooms the night before, he came up with an interesting theory that he just needed to put to the test: Injecting lifeplasm into the living.
It was a simple idea that had enormous potential. Humans were almost magically attracted to vampires. They would just gravitate towards them, be fascinated by them, and were easily overpowered and controlled by them. This much was obvious. But lifeplasm, vampire blood, had a negating effect on a vampire's natural attraction, according to theories left by ancestors. Yes, vampires were still wondrously attractive, but the living would no longer feel that trance-like appeal. They would just feel the usual "look, but don't touch" kind of attraction. In other words, they could feel fear. In other words… for a period of time, the spell was broken.
However, if too much lifeplasm is injected, then a plaything would just be able to heal quickly, like a vampire. But no one wants that. Where's the fun in torturing and slowly mutilating people if they just heal back up? Trick question: There is no fun in that. Especially when they get boring, fast.
On the other hand, if there isn't enough injected, it would just quickly pass through the body, making the vampire blood completely useless. Luckily, the Uchiha genius calculated the proper dosage, based on weight, height, and gender. It was a perfect performance.
He took one quick look around the cobble-stoned basement before sliding the steel door shut and locking it behind him. The vampire strutted down a dimly-lit corridor that had multiple steel doors leading to other chambers. He walked up a narrow stairwell that led to the surface, near the far edge of the estate's property line. In a few minutes, he was back inside his mansion.
Although he felt satisfied with his act for the moment, he was still felt displeased deep down.
He knew he killed the wrong girl tonight.
It wasn't the one he planned for nor was it the one he wanted. It wasn't sea-foam green eyes that cried tonight. It wasn't her creamy flesh that tore open. It wasn't her luscious blood that was shed and splashed all over his walls. It was some random girl: black hair, dull eyes, and uninteresting blood. The only reason why he took her home was because she was just there…at the festival, all alone.
'No one would miss her,' thought Sasuke as he finished his shower, pulled on some pajama pants, and kicked his feet up to watch some Saturday Night reruns. He pressed his naked back against the soft, plush couch and kept an unintentionally tight grip on the remote control. His delicate ears could still pick up the noise coming from the festival. It wasn't the noise that bothered him. It wasn't the fun and happiness radiating from that happy-happy-fun time hellhole. He raked his tense hand through his dampened hair.
It's her. He could still feel her, smell her.
Damn it.
He really wished he would've just killed her instead.
If only that blonde girl wasn't in the way…
It was well into the evening. Nevertheless, the world was anything but dark tonight. The lanterns and candles glowed to light up the festival. Laughter and high spirits lit up the atmosphere. Sakura just wished there was some way to light up a warm, cozy fire.
"I-It's s-so c-c-cold!" Sakura chattered through her teeth as she held onto herself for dear life. She figured since this place was full of people, body heat would just magically keep her warm. Sadly for her, someone forgot to mention that magic wasn't real.
"No DUH, it's cold! Look at what you're wearing, shorts and short-sleeves?" It was Ino's turn to lecture. "Are you crazy?"
"N-n-no…" Just proud.
Although she would never tell anyone aloud, she regretted not listening to her mother at the breakfast table. It's not her fault the weather could be so deceiving. This morning was the dictionary definition of a perfect day. How the day turned out to be a freeze-fest, Sakura will never know. Forget Karma; Mother Nature was the real bitch.
Ino dug through her shopping bags and pulled out a black, woven scarf and handed it to the icicle beside her. Sakura managed to whisper a word of thanks, but the scarf did not do much for her arms or legs. The concerned one could still see her friend shivering like a wet animal.
"God, I feel so bad. Maybe if you didn't spend money on me, you could've gotten yourself a sweater or something…" Ino led Sakura to a nearby bench to sit down. "Okay, I'll try to look for something super cheap to keep you warm. Maybe like a cup of coffee or whatever. You stay here!" She pulled out her other scarves and placed them over Sakura like blankets. It was helping…somewhat.
"Wa-wait, Ino!" It was too late. She ran into the crowd and disappeared.
'Did she forget she has no money...?' pondered the helpless Sakura, wrapped in scarves. She noticed some fair-goers looking at her as if she needed a straight-jacket instead of a bundle of fashion statements. She sighed to herself because it couldn't be helped. At least she was feeling warmer.
.
It's been around 20 minutes later and Ino still hasn't come back yet.
How long does it take to find some coffee around here?
Sakura checked her phone but saw no new messages or missed phone calls. It was half an hour until midnight. She wasn't sure whether she should be worried that Ino got lost or worried that she stopped to look at more jewelry. Either way, Sakura wouldn't be surprised.
After slipping her phone back into her bag, Sakura brought her hand up to feel for her necklace. It was the only thing she bought today, besides food, since nothing else raised her interest like the tiny cherry blossom did. She looked up and scanned the crowd for any sign of Ino. Instead, she saw many booths closing up for the night while most of the crowd dispersed. The streetlights dimmed slightly and Christmas lights were turning off. She suddenly felt like the last person left on Earth. She wasn't sure if the chill running down her back was from the cold or this unshakeable feeling…
"FOREHEAD GIRL!" yelled a familiar voice. The said "forehead girl" has never been more glad to be actually called forehead girl in her entire life. Ino was jogging back, empty handed. After catching her breath, she apologized multiple times, saying how every place was closed and how she had no money anyway.
"I would've showed some skin, if it came down to it," nodded the pig proudly. Sakura laughed and peeled the layers off of herself and handed the scarves back to Ino.
"Take them with you! You'll need it on the way back home…"
"No, really. I'll be fine."
And that was the end of that.
After the cold walk, the bus was already at the stop before Ino could even offer a sweater for her popsicle of a friend. They shared a quick hug before Sakura bolted towards the vehicle, paid the due, and took a seat. She took a breather and tried to brace herself from the cold. The windows were fogging up, making it hard to see outside. Her inner child brought her finger up to the icy glass and drew random facial expressions. A smiley face. A sad face. The angry-looking face she doodled on the window seemed to glare back at her in the most recognizable way.
Sakura found herself thinking about a certain angry-looking guy with zero emotions and wondered what he could possibly be doing right now…
She wondered if he even went to the festival at all.
The rest of the weekend flew by for the pink-haired student. Before she knew it, she was already standing in front of the high school on a cloudy Monday morning. The transition from the weekend to a school day happened all too fast; it knocked the wind right out of her. She exhaled as she pushed her way past socializing circles and other kids walking to class. After a quick stop at her locker, Sakura marched to her first period class and took her seat by the window.
The classroom for Advanced-Course Algebra 2 and Trigonometry was practically empty except for a few students and a man sitting in front of the room reading some book at the teacher's desk. The pink-haired girl realized she has never seen this man before; grey, spiked-up hair, masculine figure, and a strange mask that covered a large portion of his face. At that second, he looked around the classroom to see a pair of eyes staring at him. He took this opportunity to write his name on the board.
'He's our teacher?' pondered Sakura, as she took notice of his injured and scarred left eye that he kept closed at all times. 'Why would the school hire a blind man with a creepy mask to teach math to children?' She contemplated whether this was a joke or not.
More people rushed into the room and sat down in their assigned seats as the bell went off. The teacher, who wrote "Mr. Kakashi" on the board, received even more puzzled looks from the newly arrived that were at least smart enough to figure that they had a new teacher. One kid in the front row raised his hand.
"What happened to the other guy?" the boy asked. The room went silent to listen for an answer.
"Died. Car accident. Rest his soul," answered Kakashi in an unintentionally sarcastic tone. Some of the students snickered to themselves, assuming he was kidding.
The adult in the room was writing the topic of today's lesson on the chalkboard, along with a math problem. He stopped mid-equation as he heard a knock at the door. Sakura looked up, but at the angle she was sitting at, she couldn't see who was there. The second Kakashi stepped out into the hallway, the entire class discussed "how cool" or "how hot" their new professor was. Sakura just shrugged it off and copied down the notes on the board.
"Alright…," started the silver-haired man as he strutted back into the room. "Looks like I'm not the only new guy in here…"
A stunningly-perfect, yet familiar face followed behind him.
"This is Sasuke Uchiha, transfer student. Play nice, kiddies," he spoke as he turned his back to continue the problem written on the board.
All the girls were googly-eyed while some of the boys were staring in envy. But Sakura was neither of the two. She was a wide-eyed and horrified little girl.
Holy shit, it's him!
"Where do I sit?" Sasuke asked in monotone, but all the females in the room swooned anyway, even if a specific one refused to let him see it. Mr. Kakashi looked at a seating chart for the assigned places. Even before the teacher pointed out the previously assigned desk, Sasuke was already looking in that general direction. "The seat behind Ms. Haruno…"
Fuck my life.
She gulped and cursed her fate, her fortune, and all the horoscopes she ever had. He was staring right into her soul chillingly. Sasuke sat down behind her, but Sakura could just feel the heated stare at the back of her head. She didn't want to start anything this early in the morning, but she was so tempted to turn around and talk to him.
"How did you get into AC Trig?" asked a taunting voice from behind.
Does he just assume I'm stupid?
Sakura spun in her seat and returned a glare of her own. Wait, why was she so surprised? She should've seen this coming. On the bright side, at least it gave her a reason to talk to him. His pen was moving along the page as he took down notes, ignoring the emerald evil eye.
"Why the hell are you here?" she asked sourly, completely disregarding his question. Besides trying to ruin my life!
"Weren't you listening? I transferred here," he stated matter-of-factly. Even though she was one of the school's brightest, he was really good at making her feel stupid.
"From where? HELL?"
"Sakura," called Mr. Kakashi, a textbook in hand. "Don't interrupt, please. Or else, this…" he held up the piece of chalk in his other hand, "will be aimed right at your head."
Her classmates chuckled and the instigator tossed a condescending smirk her way. She narrowed her eyes in response and turned around.
"Sorry, sir…," grumbled Sakura as she sunk into her seat, hoping to disappear until the embarrassment died down.
"Sir? 'Kakashi' is fine… Anyway, where was I…?" he trailed off as he looked back into the book and up at the board.
Sasuke tapped his pencil against the edge of his desk in boredom. The second Kakashi finished writing the math problem to number two, the Uchiha was all over it. A complete answer, in simplest form, in less than 5 seconds. This was around the tenth time he took college level Trigonometry, and half of those times, he was in an actual college and the work was far more advanced. But to be completely honest, he would've been more bored at home. Reruns just seem to lose their appeal after you can recite every line by memory.
But he wasn't getting his kicks out of graphing equations or proving identities. It was just being around her that made him feel more…alive, so to speak. There was electricity in the air, and he wasn't sure if she could feel it the same way, but it definitely had a magnetic quality to it. At this point, he wasn't even sure if it was her blood that he wanted or if it was just her. He needed answers that no math equation could ever provide. College didn't prepare him for this.
He decided he did not need to kill her just yet. He wasn't one to be sloppy and now was a good time to understand this Sakura Haruno. The urges? He'd have to manage. As time went on, he was learning more and more about her. He would get his answers soon enough.
What makes Sakura Haruno so fucking special?
It was a challenge to get closer to her without getting too close, to stay unexposed, safe...
It was a challenge he was willing to accept, even if it meant a little bit of risk.
.
Class droned on for another hour before the next bell rang throughout the school. As Sakura piled her books together, the transfer student took it upon himself to block her way.
"Move it or lose it," ordered a sassy Sakura who had enough of her daily dose of Sasuke. She figured all this attention she was getting would last her a lifetime. The raven-haired roadblock pulled out a folded piece of paper: his schedule. He held it up in front of the girl's face and she groaned horrendously.
"You…We have almost every class together…"
Perfect. "Really now?" he asked, with zero hint of actual surprise. "Then where's my next class?" This time, his voice did show a hint of a challenge. He didn't really need directions; he just needed a reason to talk to her. The expression on her face was already doing all the talking on her part.
But isn't this what she wanted? She's been thinking about him practically all weekend and now she has a reason to open her mouth and actually speak to him. Better yet, he was asking for her help, in his own jerky way. In her mind, she figured it was his first day. He deserved a break.
"Fine…follow me…"
She hoped she wouldn't regret giving it to him.
The Beginning
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