I absolutely regret not being able to upload this chapter earlier as I was working on that ItaOC intensive oneshot; struggling to cope with my day job as a legal assistant and studying law at the same time.. So please accept my apology.
Thank you for your reviews: Nimbafuu (Why, hello! I haven't heard from you in a while. :D); tobi-is-an-artist-too (XD I think 3D is the new law.); Evee9109 (Are you still crying over the ItaOC oneshot?); CertifyyedGoon (You don't have to own Japanese furniture to be Japanese, girl.); Akiko J. Suzuki (I had a awesome time with Ita! Thanks! :D); ILoveSxS (Wait no longer then!); Animelover351 (D: Ita commited bigamy?); Silver-Firelizard (Thank you. :D); ExistentialGhost (2 reviews! Yay! :D *kisses*); xxxPinkCupCakesxxx (Stay tuned!); musoninjaRAWR (I will. :D RAWR!); withloveagain (Another case of bigamy? D: *punches Itachi*); annee loves sasusaku (:D I LOVE YOU BABE! Whee!).
Animelover351, withloveagain and Je'cris, please note that the ITAOC oneshot was written in your honour! It is an OC story only because Kishimoto didn't give her a name. You'll understand when you read the summary.
A Mermaid's Tale - Ninyou no Iwaku
Chapter 4: Distant Memories
He stood there on the ledge of the balcony of his mansion, not fully capable of comprehending what he had just witnessed with his own eyes, staring out to the darkness of the night, discerning past the silhouettes of buildings and other structures and out into the space where the ocean was situated. Everything had returned to the calm and serene state prior to the entire catastrophic turn of events, yet this sleeping town, save for himself, would wake the next morning completely ignorant.
A nagging pull, like a metal piece drawn to a magnet, overwhelmed him and the next thing he realised was that the sound of urgent footsteps reverberating through the empty corridor belonged to him. He found himself racing down the flight of stairs, skipping steps by the twos in absolute haste and jumping to the ground at the last pair. Stopping to slip on his leather shoes in a hurry, he then burst through the door and slammed it shut without turning back.
Labouring to recall the route he once so often traveled with his late mother, he dashed along the pathway that led to the beach. The disagreeing flux of cool wind, caused by the direction of his travel, clashed against his body, acting as a minor hindrance as he ran. The collar of his white shirt and his noir forelocks fluttered with way of the wind. Hell no, was he going to give a damn if his footsteps wake the neighbours. That was the least of his concern at this point.
He made a sharp left turn by the grocery store, proceeding straight for another half-mile before meandering past several bends through the local park and finally, up the concrete stairs leading to the beach. The coastline of the Elysian Sea extended for miles, continuing past the many states of Japan and for him to locate that fallen star, was for him to be as dense as searching for a needle in a haystack, but he didn't give a damn right now. It could not be too far off.
The lamplights shone dimly at their allocated spots far from the shore as he slowed to a halt beside one of them. He squinted into the shadows, scrutinizing the contours of the dunes. He shuddered as the sound of rolling waves reached his ears and pungent scent of natural sea salt drifted to his nostrils, bringing with it a multitude of suppressed memories.
"Okaa-san! Mite (Look at this)!" shouted the little boy of five, clad in only a pair of multicoloured swim-shorts.
He spun around on his heels to face the woman sitting on a laid out red-checkered picnic mat and saw her watching him with such fondness in her obsidian eyes. A sudden draft of wind blew her way causing the material of her white sundress to ripple against her smooth skin, while her long black tresses lifted gently in the flux. She instinctively pressed a hand on the top of her woven hat to hold it in place and waved with her free hand in acknowledgement. It was her bright smile that spurred him to run to her and want to bury himself in her comforting arms.
Sprinkles of sand kicked up into the air with every stride as he quickened his pace, holding out his palm clasped tightly as if he held something of precious value. His face animated such joy as he scooted towards his mother. So engrossed he was in getting to his destination on uneven grounds, the little raven boy lost his footing and tumbled face-first onto the impressively elaborate sand-art his older brother of four years had been meticulously working on the moment they got to the beach, smashing it flat in the process.
He heard the older boy grunt in displeasure and utter something along the line of 'orokanaru otouto (foolish little brother)' and he groaned, knowing that Itachi was not going to let this slide. Scrambling to his feet, he took the chance to inspect the devastation he caused to the miniature sand-city. The mold of his face was imprinted, smacked right in the middle where the town hall once situated and his limbs which sprawled in all directions had crumbled the city's foundations. He sweat-dropped and a lump started to form in his throat.
Peering from the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of Itachi studying him with cold dark orbs and that stoic expression never failed to send chills down his spine. When Itachi stretched out his hand poised to strike, the little boy braced himself, shut his eyes tight and waited for the onslaught of attacks.
"Sasuke." Came the calm soothing lilt of tenor and he cracked open his eyes cautiously, in time for Itachi to flick him on the forehead with two fingers.
"Ita-ta-ta (ow)…" Sasuke grumbled under his breath as he rubbed at the glowing red mark on his head with the back of his hand. "Mou, nii-san…" His brother smirked.
The slender woman ran towards him and dusted the particles that clung to his body and shorts. "Sasuke-kun! Are you alright, love?"
He blushed as she ruffled his mussed locks in adoration still adorning the same smile on her delicate features. "Ii-kara, ii-kara (I'm fine)… Here!" Holding out his clenched fist, he waited for his mother to reach out before revealing his treasure. It was a nautilus shell that sparkled under the rays of the afternoon sun, refracting a chatoyant opaque sheen like mother-of-pearl. To his little eyes, she was as beautiful as it was.
"Why, thank you, darling." She exclaimed as he fervently placed it on her receiving palm.
He chortled amusedly in response, observing her chuckle alongside him. Their happy laughter rang through the air, echo increasing with each passing second when it abruptly ceased and everything was gone.
He saw with his mind's eye the breaking glass of memories when the blaring noise of crashing waves hauled him back into reality. He remembered her so vividly, as though it was only yesterday that he had last given her that shell; the brush of her hand on his cheeks and the kiss she would so often place on his forehead at bedtime. He missed her.
How he had wandered to the shoreline, he could not recall, but nevertheless, there he stood, gazing out into the starless night sky. His vision traveled down to the surface of the ocean where the rays from the crescent shaped moon above were distorted into a million fragments spreading far and wide. Crouching down, he scooped a handful of fine white dust and watched blankly as it sifted through the gaps between his fingers under the soft moonlight. This was where he had found the nautilus.
He shook his head to rid himself of the old memories. They were not worth his time. He had buried these happy reminiscences years ago. There were only two things that his life would ever allow and they were: one – pain; and two – vengeance. He scoffed. What stupidity it was to ever dream of bliss when it didn't even exist to begin with.
A soft whimper caught him off-guard and he stiffened, turning around, not having expected company at this time of night, yet there was not a single soul. Huffing insolently, he deliberately disregarded the fact that he, the stoic Uchiha Sasuke, was almost, almost startled by what would have probably a stray cat rummaging the bin. He grunted in amusement and decided to spend what was left of this night to keep vigil for daybreak. After all, sleep had chosen to abandon him yet again, like everything and everyone else did.
Shoving his hands into either pocket of his charcoal grey pants, he strolled along the shore, musing. Every step he took was heavily ladened with a memory. He could still visualise the news coverage of the two bodies found among the casualties of war - the black bags granting their pale bodies one last private moment; strands of her coal hair spilling from the sides or his aged hand that dangled limply from under the sheet – as the paramedics carried them away. What was worse was he hadn't known they were his parents back then.
Sasuke halted dead in his track, eyes widening with bewilderment. The heavens had to be pulling a prank on him now. It cannot be. He could feel the little hairs at the back of his neck stand on ends and the thumping of his heart against his ribs like it never did before. There, sprawled on the ground exactly where the waters graced the earth, was her. This had to be a joke.
She was facing away from him with a delicate arm resting across her waist while the other pillowed her head. Each time a wave rolled in, the pale material of her gown would harmonize with it, flowing gracefully back and forth as did her long dark tresses.
He bolted across the sand. "Kaa-san!" Crying out with agony evidently portray in his voice, he stumbled almost like he was that little boy again. "Kaa-san..." Pain reflected so clearly on his face as he held her by the shoulders and turned her over. His obsidian pupils relaxed slightly and he released a huff, well-nigh a sigh of disappointment, when he beheld her face. It wasn't her.
He laid her gently back down on the ground. In his anxiety he hadn't noticed how frigid her skin was to his touch or that she was deadweight when he had lifted her, though now he did.
'Is she... dead?' He drew closer, positioning his ear an inch away from her face and listened to the stillness of her breathing. Hearing nothing, he pressed two fingers to the crevasse where her neck met with her chin. He felt the quiet fluttering of her pulse, so perilously light akin to the way butterflies flapped their fragile wings as they take flight. He felt the involuntary tensing of her muscles when the breeze drifted in from the sea. If he left her here like he first intended, there was no way she was going to survive the night.
Grunting with displeasure at his conscience, he slipped an arm under her neck, another under her knees and carried her. To his astonishment, she weighed close to nothing. Shifting her slightly, he started making his way cautiously in the sand towards the path he had taken. As he approached the erected lamplights, the illusion darkness caused before dissipated and he halted in amusement, staring at the girl in his arms. The most unique amongst all her traits that acquired his attention was not her pale baby smooth skin; nor was it her strangely wide forehead, but her once dark hair that bonded together in thick waterlogged strands was actually the unnatural colour of... 'Pink?'
Averting his attention back to the task at hand, he journeyed home at a reasonable pace, since he don't exactly know how frail the girl he held in his arms was. When he reached the doorstep of his mansion, he kicked open the door he had left unlocked and entered. Laying her gently down on the couch, he proceeded to shut the door and kindled the flames in the fireplace. With a small sigh, the raven haired man dusted his palms and turned to regard the petite sleeping figure.
The orange light of the fire danced on her pallid skin, giving it immediate radiating glow and making her appear almost unreal. The translucent material of her gown added a mystical touch to her appearance, like she was a character extracted from a fairytale. He thought he had heard her faintly whimper, but he wasn't all too certain.
Advancing towards her, he repositioned her legs to what he thought would be comfortable position for her and noticed the tautness of her muscles, toned and perfectly carved beneath her skin. What baffled him was they were absolutely flawless - without scars or any imperfection. His eyes traveled up her thighs and came to rest on the rosette curls shielding her intimate area from sight. Heat pooled at his cheeks and he immediately diverted his sight to her belly. Her waistline was dainty, impeccably curved and taut just like her legs.
Sasuke knew what was coming next, but did nothing to stop himself or his masculine urges. His vision trailed up her ribs, hesitating just a moment, and continued through the valley between her bosoms, then assimilating their roundness under the ridiculous bra made of... clamshell-cups. His eyebrows twitched in disbelief. He has either got here a lunatic or a psychopath - no difference there. Which sane woman would wear a bra and not panties; and still don a dress with visibility as clear as glass?
The thought of him undressing and redressing her was throwing his mind into a state of disarray, yet he was always one who masked his intentions so perfectly no one would ever know. Suppressing these licentious ideas into the tiniest corner of his brain, he rose to his full height and chose to busy himself with getting her some proper, decent clothes to change into.
Sauntering into his walk-in wardrobe, he surveyed the numerous amounts of clothing – formal, informal, but nevertheless, branded, yet he realised now that he was lacking what he sought. He combed through the multitudes of Armani, Hugo Boss, Gucci, all made to fit the frame of the thirteen year old child he was when he left this place. As he progressed deeper, the sizes grew larger and the style more apparently straight-cut to accommodate the physique and style of his much taller older brother. He gritted his teeth, wondering to himself why he hadn't yet used them as kindle for the fireplace.
Reaching for the drawer where he recalled storing his regular home clothes, he picked out a plain white T-shirt that bore the insignia of his lineage over the heart. 'Uchiha' - the fan, black at its base and hilt; crimson red at the top where the inverted crescent sat. He unravelled the shirt and estimated if her tiny frame would drown in it, but it appeared to be about suitable. Rummaging through the other drawer that belonged to his late mother, he picked out the shortest black skirt that he found 'trendy' for a girl of her age yet appropriate enough to be worn. Sasuke shuffled back out and stood aimlessly before her, pondering how he was going to change her.
The rosette murmured in her rest, words that were barely coherent to his ears, piecing together a vague yet complete phrase of 'I'm sorry, forgive me.' Her soft, feminine voice was euphonious like he had never heard from any woman in his day, despite the doleful implications of those words. As he settled closer to her, he caught sight of that single teardrop trickling in staccatos down from her eye to finally create a tiny sodden patch of darkened brown in the fabric of his couch. It made him curious about what she could be dreaming of, though of course, he wouldn't care much for it.
He exhaled and focused his attention to his - sort of - predicament, as he clutched firmly the clothes in his hand. Forcefully swallowing the lump in his throat, he hitched his breath and slid her feet into the circle of the skirt, careful not to wake her. He gulped as he guided the material up her calves, pass her knees, to her thighs and when she emitted a sigh, he abruptly tore his hands away, chest heaving as his lungs struggled to catch the breath he wasn't even aware he was withholding.
Analysing the situation he had now placed himself in – the hem of the skirt tightly gripped her thighs in the most uncompromising position and for him to properly rearrange it, he would have to dig his fingers between the material and her… alluring flesh, so he could continue. His heart was pounding thunder in his ears and he couldn't comprehend why he should be nervous. With shaking fingers, he hooked his fingertips round the band to stretch it and halted within ambsace of her delicate pink curls. He staved hard to focus his mind on other imaginaries – an excited dog running on the beach with the tune strummed on the ukulele floating in the atmosphere – all which came crashing down when she stirred and he felt the brush of her curls on his skin. Sasuke chocked. He couldn't do this, but he had to.
Shutting his eyes, he hurriedly slipped it onto her and backed away, sarcastically thanking whatsoever gracious - he scowled - deity that thought this amusing. Shifting his attention to the one other piece of clothing that laid inanimate on the carpet, he grimaced.
He was lucky that the dress was a loosely fitted one. Lifting her up gently, he propped the unconscious girl against the back of the couch and gathered at chiffon in his fists. Cautiously, he laboured, rising from her curved hips up her abdomen and past her feminine mounds, to free her from its constraints and progressed on to clothe her in his T-shirt that fitted her perfectly before gently laying her back down to rest. Huffing a sigh of relief, he slumped his weight against the base of the couch and rested. Day wasn't far away now.
Consciousness returned to the mermaid as her eyes began to focus on the redness beneath her eyelids. She could not recall the lights of her chambers to have ever been this bright, so much that it blinded her even in her sleep. There were so many great ways to be roused and this was not one of them. Emitting a tiny grunt in displeasure, she found her throat to be so parched it was painful to swallow. As sensation crept into her limbs, she felt incomprehensibly weighted down as though the waters had grown ten-times denser overnight.
Her blanket was intact and covering her like she would habitually cozy herself in it, yet its scent was… different. It had the pungent smell of what you and I would call 'fabric softener'. Well, of course, she wouldn't have known that. Stretching her hand under the duvet, she grazed her fingertips on the surface of her tail or what should have been her tail and found its texture to be smooth – a different kind of smooth compared to the scales on a mermaid's tail. She added pressure to her fingertips and analysed the way the muscles moulded under her skin. It wasn't different at all! It was utterly wrong! Her mind was a state of absolute disarray.
'Your fin. Move your fin!' And it moved, but it didn't move as a whole like she had expected. It moved in pieces! Throwing her eyelids open, she sat up like a compressed spring in release and screamed. Screamed like she never had in her life. Even her own voice sounded weird to her. "Where in the deep-sea abyss am I?"
"Uruse..." Came a distinguishable masculine voice. One that was unfamiliar and abnormally devoid of expression or articulation that effectively sent chills up her spine. Searching the extravagant room for the source, she finally spotted him - a man, or boy rather, with raven hair that spiked at the back and his acute features were enhanced by the forelocks that fell from either side of his face – seated at what she could tell was an antique desk with his arms folded to his chest. He lowered the writing instrument he held in his right hand and observed her the way she was observing him, except he bore no hint of emotion on his features.
Different possibilities toiled in her mind, as she strove to make sense of the situation. Her lips parted slightly as she formed the almost silent words, "Who… are you?"
A/N: Thank you for reading. :D Reviews always spur the author on to write. Teehee.
Remember to check out that ItaOC oneshot! It won't fail you, I promise.