Memorial | By : SakikuTorakak Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Itachi/Sakura Views: 3364 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or its characters, and I don't make any money from this. |
WARNINGS: Very hard-core scarification. NC-17 rating despite no sex. Take that as you wish.
Summary: Sakura needs a reminder of what she lost.
Pairing: Itachi x Sakura
--
Memorial
She let herself fall back onto the bedspread, her naked torso bared to his sight. She looked… indecent, he thought, with the way she was fully clothed in black up to her waist-line and then completely nude. She was still wearing her shoes, dangling her feet a few inches above the ground as to not soil the bed covers. Extremely long stockings or a pantyhose, he didn’t know which, reached up her shapely legs until they vanished beneath the hem of a daringly short skirt that had ridden up high enough to make it almost possible to get a glance at her underwear. Keyword being almost.
None of her skin was visible below waist-line, contrasting even harsher with her stark nudity above.
Her pert little breasts were round, her stomach flat to the point it was almost concave, and her pink hair spread in a halo around her head. Her well-muscled arms had come up to fold behind her head, baring meticulously shaved armpits. He couldn’t tell whether her strange coloring extended to bodyhair, too.
Haruno Sakura looked up at him, eyes clear in an intense expression of banked hatred that contained none of the seduction he could read in her body language.
“Mark me,” she demanded, no hesitation in her hard-edged voice. “You owe me at least that much.”
He merely continued staring at her intently, standing like a statue off to the opposite wall, where he had been when she had stormed into the room and started stripping. He remained motionless, shrouded in his heavy black cloak with red clouds that hid all miniscule movements a living, breathing body made.
He could imagine several reasons why she had sought him out.
Nearly a year ago, he had killed his little brother because Sasuke hadn’t been strong enough. The Curse Seal had ingrained itself so deeply into Sasuke’s chakra that Itachi hadn’t been able to remove it. And Itachi hadn’t been willing to let his foolish little brother be possessed by a snake sannin. Then, three weeks ago, Itachi had led Akatsuki in the capture of the last jinchuuriki, the nine-tailed demon. Hatake Kakashi had been a casualty in the assault. And Uzumaki Naruto had died sixteen days later during the extraction of the Kyuubi.
It was only a question of time now until Madara unleashed the combined might of the tailed monsters on the Elemental Countries, and Konoha specifically. Itachi was still trying to pull strings behind the scenes to save his home village, but so far, Madara had seen through his every plan and turned them on him in the most devastating fashion. Instead of protecting Konoha, Itachi had more or less become its single-handed destroyer.
He thought that it was logical for the last living member of the ill-fated Team 7 to seek him out, but he had expected her to come howling for blood and revenge. Weakened as he still was by the week-long extraction of the Kyuubi, she might even have had a chance of killing him. She had grown that strong, succeeding the late Godaime Hokage’s legacy.
Instead Haruno Sakura had appeared in his inn room, calmly stripped down to her current half-naked state, and talked to him as if he wasn’t one of Konoha’s most feared missing-nin. The woman in front of him probably was the strongest kunoichi in all of Fire Country and the most skilled healer in the Elemental Countries. The woman in front of him also had cold determination and an almost desperate glow to her eyes. A woman on a mission, as ill thought-out as it might be.
However she didn’t look suicidal, and she didn’t look insane despite the hatred he could sense deep inside her. So why did she think that she could seek out one of Konoha’s staunchest enemies without having to fear for her life? He doubted that she simply didn’t care anymore.
“You know,” she spoke into the stretching silence, “as the former Hokage’s apprentice, I had to wade through a lot of sensitive information during the clean-up after you killed Danzou three weeks ago.” Her green eyes never left his. “Danzou was very meticulous in his note-taking. He had files on every important event going back to the second ninja war. It was a very interesting read.”
Itachi blinked. That was unexpected. “Who knows?” He hadn’t heard of any uproar in Konoha, and the revelation that Konoha’s council had ordered their largest clan to be exterminated because of the plotting of only a few members, surely would have caused one. Had they kept it silent?
She raised one side of her upper lip in disgust, not at all self-conscious under his stare. “I didn’t tell anyone. Would it have changed anything? You are still a member of Akatsuki.”
He appreciated it that she was intelligent enough to see things as they were without any idealistic trappings. Yes, he had been unjustly forced into his life as a missing-nin eight years ago, but ever since he had made plenty of choices to truly warrant his designation. He appreciated it that she didn’t forget all the crimes he had committed, that she didn’t consider him a lost soul that she could save from the fate it had been shoved into. After all he had chosen his way of his own free volition, and he would walk it to its bitter end.
“What do you want?” he asked, aware now that she knew more about him and his motivations than just about anyone else. Except maybe Madara, but he didn’t want to think about that. And he was still curious why she thought he would bend to her wishes.
“Mark me,” she repeated her statement from earlier, eyes hard and burning with a subtle hatred. “You are the one who killed them. You will be the one to give me something to remember them by.”
And to remember her hatred for Itachi since he would be the one to do it, just like he had already marked her by taking away her loved ones. That was an interesting course of action, although not entirely sane.
“I could kill you,” he commented dispassionately.
She met him stare for stare despite her seemingly inferior position prone on the bed. “Could you?”
“I should,” he corrected himself. She didn’t reply with the expected ‘But you won’t’; instead she threw him a mirthless look that said the same.
Her naked chest rose and sank calmly, no signs of her being afraid or self-conscious of her body. Her pale skin gleamed in the muted light the over-head light bulb managed to force through its dirt-encrusted lamp shade. He could detect a few nearly invisible scars that probably stemmed from a time when she hadn’t been that proficient in medical jutsu yet. They were too few to be the entirety of her injuries during her shinobi career. It was obvious that she could heal nearly any injury without leaving a scar.
It was just as obvious to him that she didn’t intend to do so in this case.
He exhaled a bit louder than normally and took off his heavy Akatsuki cloak, hanging it on a nail protruding from the door that probably was intended for such a purpose. He was left with mundane black shinobi pants and a black fish-net shirt over a V-necked grey tank top, his usual outfit. Untying his kunai holster from his thigh, he set it on the rickety table on the other side of the room. Although she didn’t seem to want to kill him, it would be unwise to place his weapons in her reach.
Slowly he drew one of the kunai, one that wasn’t nicked yet from use, and turned towards her, studying her prone form. She didn’t flinch at the sight of the knife held loosely in his hand.
“Brand or cut?” he finally asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Cut.” Her gaze rested on the bared kunai. “The smell of burning flesh is too strong.”
He nodded. Shinobi would find the stench of fresh blood even more distinctive, but the inn was in a civilian neighborhood. There were no other ninja nearby. “Where?”
Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. He could see them burn with hunger and hatred, but none of it was visible in her voice or her body language. “Your choice. Give me something to remember them by. All three of them, Naruto, Kakashi, and Sasuke.”
He nearly flinched at the last name, aware that his little brother was his greatest failing, and one that stood at the beginning of a series of gross miscalculations. However he didn’t allow himself to show any signs of emotion. He had made his bed, and now he would lie in it.
Calmly he approached her side and stared down at her, studying the canvas she was offering. He turned off the weak overhead light and turned on the small one on the nightstand. It was brighter, but at the same time it threw deep shadows across her body. He turned on the overhead light again, deciding that the two lamps together with whatever miniscule amount of daylight managed to penetrate the dirt-grimed window were the best it got. He was a perfectionist, and once dedicated to a course of action, he would see it through to the best of his abilities.
“Take off your shoes and get on the bed completely.”
After he had said that he realized that it was a bit strange to avoid dirtying the covers with her shoes when her blood was going to do much worse soon. He wasn’t going to sleep there anyway, seeing that someone had tracked him down.
However she didn’t protest his order and settled herself in her new position, completely stretched out on her back, arms still folded behind her head in a way that thrust her breasts forward provocatively. In another setting, he might have found her sexually attractive. But he was focused on other things now.
And she was still staring at him with a strange mixture of hatred, disgust and hunger in her eyes.
Finally he nodded, having decided. If she wanted something to remember Uzumaki, Hatake and his little brother by, she would have to live with their names permanently carved into her flesh. The two kanji for Uchiha running down her left side starting beneath her breast, the two kanji for Uzumaki down the right side in a symmetrically opposite position, and the single one for Hatake in the center above her navel. There was enough space to make each character about the size of his palm, giving him room to work with so that the individual strokes wouldn’t bleed into each other once scar tissue formed.
The most difficult thing was going to be the varying stroke thickness, but if he made two incisions and removed the skin from between them, it should create a thicker scar than when he just cut.
He took off his own shoes and straddled her lower thighs to study his living canvas. It would be futile to sterilize anything in the room, so he didn’t even try. She was the one who had chosen this, and she was an expert in healing. She would easily be able to deal with any possible infection from the dirty room.
Despite their provocative poses, there was nothing sexual about the situation. There was too much pain and too much anger saturating the air around them.
She didn’t protest the move beyond a slight tensing of her muscles and an increase in her glare. When she didn’t say anything, he ignored her.
It probably would be best if he cut perpendicularly down into her skin instead of at an angle, and he should see to it that he stayed at a uniform depth to encourage even scarring. The process of scarification was unpredictable enough that he didn’t need to create more faults through shoddy work.
When he rested his left hand on her side just below where he was about to start cutting ‘Uzu’, she twitched. Her skin was warm, so his hand must have felt quite cold to her. He hoped she wasn’t ticklish. The subsequent bite of the blade though didn’t elicit any reaction. His kunai was so sharp that it took some time both for the pain to register and the blood to flow.
He had outlined almost the whole kanji before he had to get up and fetch something to dab the blood away so that he could see properly. In lack of anything usable in the vicinity, he resorted to shredding her shirt that she had discarded at the beginning. It probably was the cleanest thing, too.
She watched him almost obsessively with an occasional twitch as he wiped away most of the blood and resettled himself on her lower thighs. With every inhale, the skin-deep incisions along the side of her ribcage gaped open, and with every exhale, more droplets were squeezed out. However the shallow cuts had stopped bleeding enough so that they didn’t obstruct his vision.
After deliberating for a bit he gripped the kunai further up the blade and began to retrace his steps and remove thin strips of skin like his outline demanded. It would have been easier if he’d had a smaller blade and tweezers instead of his fingertips, but he had to make do. Revisiting already injured flesh was always more painful than creating new cuts, so he wasn’t surprised when she exhaled with a hiss. A brief glance at her face showed that she was alright, still glaring at him, so he kept working.
By the time he had finished with ‘maki’ and progressed to the character of ‘Hatake’, she had grown curiously silent. Even the rhythmical tensing of her thigh muscles that she had used to distract herself from the pain had stopped. If he hadn’t been so certain of her regular if shallow breathing because it was hard to work around the constant motion, he would have worried. And where his hands rested on her ribcage, he could feel her rapid but not dangerously fast heartbeat. It was strong and regular, dealing easily with the amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her gaze, which he periodically checked, had dilated and gone slightly glassy, but she hadn’t passed out because she was still tracking his motions keenly.
He continued working, hesitating briefly when he began to outline the characters for ‘Uchiha’. It felt strange carving his own name into her skin when it was his brother she was thinking of.
She must have felt his hesitation because when he looked at her face, she met his eyes.
Slowly she smiled while her body cried tears of blood.
He slid the knife deeper beneath her skin.
--
A/N: Originally, this was intended to have copious amounts of sex to counterbalance the horror-factor of scarification. Halfway through this piece though (before I got to the explicit descriptions) I decided that I probably should do some research first, and I think I got a bit more info than I wanted to. Cutting alone isn’t that bad, but the pictures of skin-removal...
I deliberately left out what a design looks like immediately after the skin-removal (especially when larger areas of skin are removed), and I didn’t go into what you’ve got to do afterwards to get it to become a nice scar. Urgh. Needless to say that all thoughts of sex were out of the window for me; not only because of the gross-factor, but also because hard-core bodymodification like that just doesn’t go together with the loss of control during sex. Well, at least not if you want a nice-looking scar afterwards.
I hope that Itachi is believable, and that my modifications to the canon timeline were plausible. And that I didn’t gross you out too much…
Sakiku
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo