Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

Recherche	By : Eggburtshamslice Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Kakashi/Iruka Views: 4188 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto nor do I make any profit from this work of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Sounds of renovation, the squeal of pry bars yanking rusty nails from large wooden crates, the shush of rip saws biting into dense cedar and the voices of servants directing workmen from room to room; these were muted now as a tall olive-skinned man descended steep slate stairs into the belly of the stately manor. Yellow candlelight weakly flickers against the heavy darkness; nervous fingers seek out gorges in the stone walls to balance himself as the staircase narrowed at its junction with the floor of the subterranean vault.
The news he’d just received ... urgent and extremely unpleasant; it fell to him to inform the Master.
Disturbing a numen at rest carried significant risk; his Master, a violent being, derived pleasure by inflicting unspeakable acts of cruelty upon those who dared interrupt his daily routine. Were he to wake him now, so soon after he’d taken his bed, odds were great he’d be splayed open from neck to navel in the span of a breath. Were he to wait until the Master stirred of his own volition, a severe beating was his due for delaying news of great import.
Hands violently shaking toward the antechamber, heart, thrumming against a heaving rib cage, pearls of perspiration turn into rivulets of sweat running alongside his ears. He set down the lantern, afeared he’d drop it that he might flatten down thick, dark brown hair with sweaty palms, he took a breath and pulled together fleeing oddments of courage.
Each breath, measured out as though it might be his last, once more he ignores the thin wire handle of the lantern cutting into his palm. Hinges faintly groan as with a nudge of the shoulder the solid wooden door is pushed ajar. Soft leather soles glide across limestone slates as he servant approached the raised pyramidal structure of finest Cryptomeria in the center of the room. Master’s resting place, widest at its base with three broad steps leading up to the bed itself. Leaving the lantern beside the bullnose, Kinoe cautiously stood on the first tread. By the time he reached the second tread, his body quaked in fear – here he knelt, bowed his head in submission and rapped his knuckles against the riser beneath the bed’s frame.
“My Lord,” he said quietly. “I have exigent news.”
The Master shifted slightly at the sound of his voice but did not awaken. Kinoe thought to rap once more when out of the blue, cold, powerful fingers wrapped themselves around his throat, lifting him upward until the tips of his toes bumped against the first riser, pulling him closer to the side of the bed and squeezing the breath from him.
A voice, deep and menacing rumbled through the stagnant air:
“Damn well better be!”
“My Lord,” he spluttered, “Umino and his cohorts have arrived … met with . . . Chief Inspector first thing.”
At once, the hand around his throat was gone; his flight through the air, terminated when his back crashed into the stone wall opposite Master’s bed.
“Have Maito track their every step,” he heard over the pain wracking his battered body. “I expect a thorough account of their movements when I awake.”
Scrabbling to his knees, his vision swimming, breathing labored he whimpered, “I will see to it at once, my Lord.”
As he crawled backward, the sound of the Master’s laughter rose above him, echoing fetid and noxious throughout the chamber.
“Let us hope the younger Umino proves a greater challenge than his father was.”
Recherché
Ill tidings flew swifter than swallows; everyone in the territory could speak of nothing aside from the plucky heiress who met an untimely and tragic end.  Not surprising then, was the speed at which the summons came. Fully aware his Master’s state of mind grew more volatile as the sun ascended, Maito bounded through the forests; a blur of black and green as he hastened through the groves. 
Almost as soon as he walked through the front door, workaday conversation in the grand hall hung in the air -- suspended in mid syllable; every head turned, and every eye fastened upon him.  When he cocked his head to the left and then to the right, he could hear the bowels of the burly workmen seizing up -- the smell of their fear so thick, it flavored the atmosphere like a piquant bouquet of sweat and pheromones. 
Humans, he thought with a smile, so easily frightened . . .
so quickly tantalized by that which they do not understand.
A sly smile from him, so wide and inviting, sent an audible rush of relief through the entrance way where he stood; arms akimbo, he countenanced the furtive glances, drank in equal parts of their attraction and reveled in their repulsion.  Many of the assembled navvies roused themselves from stupor, pretending to carry on with their assigned tasks while some moistened dry lips with a swipe of their turgid tongues.  A jaunty nod of his head meant the show was over and he strutted through the horde of hirelings.     The drawing room at the end of the hall was where he’d been summoned and it was there he focused the whole of his attention.  Making his way down the hall, household servants scurried away like cockroaches, pressing themselves against the walls as he passed them; bowing low and shielding their eyes as they’d been taught.
 “Hey Takumi,” whispered one of the workmen when he thought Maito was out of earshot, “reckon that’s the Master of the manor?”
“Don’t know, don’t care and since neither of us is getting paid to stand around gawking at rich folks . . . here,” he said, pressing a spud bar into his friend’s hand, “make yourself useful.”
But the younger man’s eyes remained fastened to Maito’s retreating back.  “Only men I know that are taller and broader than him are millwrights.”
“So what?”
“Odd lookin,’ don’t you think?  And did you see those teeth? Quite a set of choppers; whiter than white they were, and sharp . . . like he could skin you alive with ‘em!   And those eyebrows. . . damn near cover half his forehead!”
The crowbar’s pinch point slipped under a rusty nail with a squeal and above the skin-crawling noise, everyone, including the man under scrutiny heard him say:
“I tell ya, that guy looks like a rabid wolf.”
Suddenly, Maito stopped in his tracks; the sensation of eyes darting between him and the obtuse workman almost tangible.  Taking mental note of the braggart’s name, he stored away the memory of his smell for future recall. Though everything in him demanded he turn and rip the smaller man asunder, he denied the insistence of his instincts; couldn’t afford another slip up so soon.
“I swear, Hiroaki, you haven’t got half the brains of a termite,” hissed the man on the other side of the crate. “You insulted that man and I know damn well he heard what you said, fool! If he were to come for you,” he said, slipping the claw hammer in his pants pocket, “you’d piss yourself.”
“Yeah, he’d be yipping like a little mutt,” said another workman who’d sidled up beside the young man.  “What’s the matter,” he laughed, chuckling the other man’s chin, “aint you ever seen what years of inbreeding looks like?”
From around the corner, the two jesting men heard the rapid footsteps of the foreman and moved away quickly.
“Knock it off you lack wits,” snapped the irritated overseer as his beefy fist bounced off the young man's head. “That'll learn ya to keep your big mouth shut Hiroaki. The rest of you louts . . . get back to work!”
Ah yes, Maito thought.  If Master allows,
you’ll make quite the delicious amuse-bouche . . .  Hiroaki.

Notes:
Cryptomeria [japonica]: a conifer in the cypress family; endemic to Japan where it is known as sugi. A large evergreen tree, with spirally arranged leaves (needle-like) and globular seed cones; superficially similar to Giant Sequoia.
Oddment: an odd article, bit or remnant.
Exigent: requiring immediate action or aid; urgent, pressing.
Bullnose: where steps are open on one or both sides.
Tread: horizontal part of a stairway that is stepped on.
Riser: vertical part of a stairway between each tread.
Numen: a deity, especially one presiding locally.
Navvy: an unskilled, manual laborer.
Hireling: a person who works only for pay, especially in a menial or boring job, with little or no concern for the value of the work.
Spud bar:  crowbar.
Hiroaki: “Widespread brightness”.
Takumi: “Artisan.”
Amuse-bouche (French):  to ‘amuse the mouth.’ It’s a bite-sized portion of food to stimulate the appetite before a meal or to clear the palate between courses of a large meal.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Recherche