|Three of a Kind
Author: Lamanth PM
ONE SHOT – Only together could three things so badly broken become whole once more. -Sasuke Ino Itachi-Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Sasuke U. & Ino Y. - Words: 1,857 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 7 - Published: 01-10-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7729393
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters, merchandise, TV rites, ect… (I think you get the point.)
ONE SHOT – Only together could three things so badly broken become whole once more. (Sasuke Ino Itachi)
Like all of my work this is just something that happened to float through the empty void inside my head. Like it or hate it please R and R as honest opinions are always welcomed, as are random acts of worship.
"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished and persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."
And to Hell, I will go,
Knocking right on Satan's door.
Heavens no, this ain't it.
Honey, I won't beg, I'll just take it quick.
She took me to my knees, and now she's got me praying.
Save me, she's a liar, and I can't seem to untie
The rope she's got wrapped around her finger.
Think I lost the last bit of my self-control.
Three of a Kind
Everyone has regrets at some point in their life. Some small regrets, and some huge. Some people may have many, while others may posses only a handful or so. I on the other hand only have one, but it is one that will overshadow every day of my life until my death.
My regret, destructive, devastating and depraved, is one Yamanaka Ino. But perhaps the strangest thing of all is that this one regret, this one girl who makes my doubt the worth of my own existence, is also the greatest, if not the only, source of joy in my life.
I returned to the village I had abandoned, accompanied by an estranged brother, equipped with the knowledge of why he had committed the atrocity that he had. I knew in the depths of my black and withered heart that I would never be able to forget what he had done, but part of me hoped that in time I would be able to forgive.
To forgive him for slaughtering my kin like so many worthless cattle.
Forgive the village of my birth for what they had asked my bother to do.
Maybe with time, even forgive my family and the lust for power, which ran through their veins like a plague.
And that even one day I might be able to forgive myself for all the things I had done in my desperate search for revenge.
We were both so determined to try and rebuild some sort of life with the only family that we had left. But almost from the very start things had gone wrong. Though not actually wrong in a sense, it was just that two lives that were almost already twisted beyond recognition could only become more distorted when exposed to a third such self-destructive eliminate.
The first moment I set eyes on her after all those long years of separation I knew that she would be mine. Or so I naïvely thought, little did I know that the reverse would be true. That I would totally and completely lose myself to her, mind, body and soul. That I had practically as good as sold my soul to the devil for the second time in my miserable little life. And all for what?
For an angelic looking golden haired creature who underneath that angel mask was probably the most sadistic demon of them all. A cruel bitch that would rip us to shreds just for kicks. She systematically broke us apart and then rebuilt us in new ways just because she could. And we just let her.
So, my big regret was walking down that seemingly deserted street that night, so many years ago. Maybe if I had just stayed home instead, things would have been different. Maybe the three of us could then have passed for something vaguely resembling normal. Or, perhaps, it would have just been delaying the inevitable. For if it hadn't of been that night on that street it would almost certainly have been some other time and place.
So no there is no normal life for our strange trio; instead the two of us are sitting here waiting. Waiting for her. And in some way this is our version of normal.
In my head I know I could try to get away. I could just try to leave her or the next time she comes I could just tell her "no". But I cannot. Even when she turns to my brother, to Itachi, I still cannot say no. Not to her. She wants both of us and neither of use can refuse her ardent demands. I don't have the power to resist and neither does he. It's almost funny, in a sick and somewhat twisted sort of way, two of the most powerful and feared shinobi ever to have breathed, reduced to mere shadows of our former selves by a slip of a girl.
I know I should just resist her and tell the bewitching demon to leave. But I cannot. We are like a pair of addicts. The drug users that can find no rest, no semblance of peace if forced to go too long without their stimulant. Vulgarly put, she is the itch that has to be scratched for we can not go for long without her. Always she leaves us waiting like needy junkies for that next fix.
By the time we are spent, sated, we will be too exhausted to move. Livid bruises will stand out on pale creamy skin and bite marks will be sunk deep into soft flesh. Lips bitten and swollen as need and hunger over rule everything else. Desires so intense that it will inevitable cause pain but that's all right because when you've spent so long feeling nothing you do anything to feel something. The inarticulate longing to touch and hold and feel.
She always comes in the dead night, though why I am not sure. I suppose in the start it made a strange sort of sense, but now years later and the whole of Konoha knows of our dirty little secret. Though a secret it clearly no longer is and as for dirty, well even at the start we never saw it as such. There is only so much that can be done to someone before their sense of normality is cracked and then even the most obscene things appear as customary. What was once seen as perverse becomes common place.
We hear the voices, whisperings that follow us wherever we go. Most looks are disapproving and disdainful, though there are those who look resentfully upon the blonde who has such a hold over us both. One or two gaze upon her and can not disguise the hatred in their eyes and at these people we laugh.
So afraid to admit what it is that they want, unwilling to acknowledge even to themselves what it is that they desire, because it is seen as something unnatural. They hate her because she has no problem in facing the dark side of human nature and openly proclaiming what she wants and what she now has. That which they secretly desire.
But most of all they hate and fear her because she has done what everyone wanted, but no one thought truly possible, she brought my brother and I back together.
Through the open bedroom window she will slip, drifting across the floor as silently as a shadow until she is standing by the bed. Her head will tilt slight to one side, causing that simmering wave of silver blonde hair to slid over her shoulder like so many silken threads. Eyes of frozen blue, will stare intently at me for a moment, before focusing on my brother. And once again I will find myself struck by how old those eyes seem when compared to the rest of her.
They are eyes that have seen too much of the suffering that the world has to offer. Those twin ice coloured pools have seen the dark and twisted side of human nature, seen it, felt it, tasted and known it. Until it was too much for her to endure any longer, and she is now almost as depraved as those whose minds she is forced to enter. I wonder if that was only way for her to survive the madness, for her to reach out and embrace it. Pulling that darkness deep into her self rather than letting it crash down upon her and wash away all that she knew.
It all seems so easy in my head, when she's not there clouding my senses I feel as if I could do anything. The only problem is that all I want to do is find her, to take her and make her my own. But it is an impossible fantasy. She will never be mine. She will never be his.
We are hers.
Some half-forgotten voice in the back of my head whispers that I should hate to see them together, but it is a soft voice and it fades with each passing day. Perhaps I should hate it, but I don't. For how could I ever hate anything connected with her? The landscape of the Tsukuyomi is decorated in shades of red and black, and until she came back into my life the whole world too seemed only to by made of shadows and dried blood. I could say she is both the light and the dark in the Uchiha world, but perhaps it would be more accurate to describe her as both life and death to us.
We let her have her way, doing whatever it is that she desires. We are damned. Our souls, and so much more, now belong to her and there is no turning back. But there is love here too, I'm sure of it. It's strange and, like so much in our lives, is far from normal. It's wild and intense and so unbelievable fragile that I can't help but think that one day it with brake and then we will all shatter like so much glass.
I sigh softly and shift myself off of the bed on which I have been lying. From his chair Itachi watches me as I cross the expanse of floor to the window and throw it open wide. The wind blows silently into the room, the air tasting sharp with the promise of snow, and we can feel the icy wind bit deep into our flesh. She will be here soon and we will welcome her with open arms and open bed. She will take more of us. Not just our bodies, but our minds, hearts and souls as well. Everything we offer her and still more besides.
Eventually, she will swallow us whole.
Please R and R I'd love to know what you thought.
Big love and inspiration