Header: #46, brick wall, ItaSaku
Title: through glass
Author/Artist: Lady Kyoshoku
Claim: Uchiha Itachi and Haruno Sakura
Theme: #43, brick wall
Rating: T+/M (Language, violence and sexual themes)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, and I never will. -sigh-
Summary: "You said you loved me, you lying bastard!" Because sometimes it is better to ignore the dark and create your own hope. She was like glass to him, and he was as cold as stone, forever a brick wall. "…I never lie."
AN: I recommend reading this to the song "Through Glass" by Stone Sour, which held the inspiration for this tale. Rated for character death, sexual themes, and some language. Some things may seem OOC, but that's just me, maybe. Oh yeah, and I'm trying a new style for this, so bear with me.
she was like glass to him, and he was as cold as stone, forever a brick wall.
The first time they met, she was terrified. Could hardly speak, let alone fight him.
She was with her team mates then, and they protected her from his attacks and his intentions. A pitiful, useless thing she was then--and if he recalled correctly, his brother's ex-team mate.
He was angry upon seeing the Konoha chuunin. Why she should believe that she's the only one who loved his brother? Cared for him? Given--or was willing to give up--everything to making sure he was safe, secure? The chit hardly knew how the world worked yet was willing to say she knew, and that she hated him.
She didn't know he was aware of that, but was petrified, and didn't want to say anything.
He didn't care about her hate. He had come to do what he planned, and was done with it: the girl was, and would never be, something that mattered to him.
The second time they met, she had grown.
She looked at him: green met blazing red without fear, hatred concentrated into the lines of her body as she advanced on him, weapon in hand.
He blocked, twisted, grabbed her wrist. She slid along the ground and didn't have time to recuperate as he pinned her against a tree, the metallic ring of the katana echoing through the clearing. He could see that her eyes were wet with unshed tears, yet her body was still as stone--it made him smirk the barest amount to see that she had scarcely changed.
She said something that didn't surprise him. "Gods, I fucking hate you, Uchiha."
He replied, and it didn't faze her, either. "I don't care about your hate."
She paused, waited. There was a moment of silence between the two before he heard the crack of her wrist and saw a blur of black as her fist came hurtling towards him, catching him on the side of the head hard enough to make him see spots.
He grit his teeth and kicked at her, she held up a chakra-reinforced arm to block it, causing agony to rip down his leg and up to his hip.
She was somewhat smug: it seemed he had misread her, because the spar hardly continued longer until she had him at her mercy, pinning him to the ground with her soft weight, kunai glinting at his throat.
He was surprised she hadn't done a thing.
She was breathing hard, triumph bleeding through her smirk, but she hadn't struck yet. He made a move to get up and she pressed the blade harder to his warm flesh, causing blood to bead along the length.
"What are you doing, Sakura?" He saw a muscle jump in her jaw, smirk fading.
"I'm going to kill you, Itachi, and I'm going to enjoy every second."
She could tell he was unafraid, and he had every right to be.
"Are you really?" There was a slight tone of bemusement lacing his voice, one that only made her angrier. "I wasn't aware you'd do that to Sasuke… Take away his revenge, rob him of his existence."
She paused, and drew the blade back.
He wasted no time in incapacitating her by pressing a point in her neck, and letting her fall to the ground.
She was out before he even touched her, his name still on her lips.
He would not be so careless, should there be a next time. He could not afford it.
The third time they met, he was surprised to see her in full ANBU regalia.
She didn't look scared this time, and she wasn't. She wouldn't hesitate to kill.
He could honestly say he was disappointed: apparently Konoha let anyone into the ranks these days.
She was solo this time, and tired, leaping through the trees at a slow pace so that she could conserve her energy. Time moved even slower than she did as he advanced on her, and she realized a second too late that he was there.
He threw a knife at her; the kunai barely missed her arm as she dropped down to the ground and crouched low, unlike her attacker, who stood at his full height, heavy cloak swaying in the breeze. He could smell blood on her… Sasuke's blood. His eyes narrowed and she became impassive, almost wistful.
"It's you again."
"Expecting someone else? My brother, perhaps?"
She stilled. "Sasuke-kun nearly killed me. The blood may be his, but I spilled none of it."
He moved towards her, eyes never leaving hers as the dark obsidian bled into scarlet. She backed up, not exactly afraid, but more apprehensive to what he was doing. He said nothing to her as his hands slid up her side, along her arms, raising them above her head and pinning them to the tree. She felt a blade press to her stomach but didn't have the energy to fight, instead letting herself stare into the crimson pools of his Sharingan.
She found his touch surprisingly gentle, almost intimate, but her hatred for him boiled just below the surface.
He found her body soft and compliant, an opposite to the parts of her personality that she had seen.
She knew that there was a fine line between love and hate.
He knew it was beginning to grow more blurred as he dragged the kunai gently across her skin, raising chills.
She turned her head away from him, ignoring her desire to feel his lips on hers--her first kiss was not meant for him.
He wanted it. He wanted to see her cry, to see her hurt, to make her feel as if she had betrayed her 'love' and her friends, her village and her teacher, everyone. He wanted her to feel like he did.
She blinked, did nothing.
He leaned forwards and crushed his lips to hers.
She seemed to resist at first.
He pressed closer, letting the knife drop to tangle his fingers in her soft hair and turn her face more to his, not at all gentle.
She liked the feeling but bit his lip, felt his blood against her lips.
He smirked slightly and bit her right back.
She gasped in surprise.
He took the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips, tasting the sweet ambrosia of her mouth.
She hated herself for this, and tears pooled in her eyes when she found she could resist no longer.
He was pleased by how she kissed--a natural, it seemed--and how she tasted, the way that her anger equated into passion.
She wondered things. For such a cold-hearted man, his lips were hot.
He pulled away, and looked over her face. The dewy gleam to her eyes, the slightly bruised lips, the way her hair was mussed… It was a good look for her, he decided.
She was breathless.
He remained unchanged.
She was dazed, and didn't move.
He was gone as quick as he had come, leaving only an icy feeling on her body and tears in her eyes.
She, after surveying the area and was sure he had disappeared, succumbed to her impulse and, for the first time in three years, broke down and cried.
The fourth time they met, neither of them had been alone.
She had been at first, sitting at a bar somewhere in Ame.
He had come in with Kisame, and caught a glimpse of silken pink locks from behind.
She felt his chakra and stiffened.
He blinked once, and held up a hand to stop his partner from saying anything. The other Akatsuki left, leaving them alone.
She didn't move when he sat next to her: she simply ordered another drink and tossed it back, savouring the burn.
He regarded her placidly. "It has been a while, Sakura."
"Go fuck yourself, Itachi."
He smirked. "And how to you propose I do that?"
She snorted. "Like I care, bastard."
"You seem to still be bitter. Why might that be?"
She slammed her fist on the counter, splintering the wood as she jumped up and yelled loud enough for the bar to hear (though there were not many people there). "You're damn right I am! That kiss was never meant for you! You stole it!"
"I wasn't aware you had been holding out for someone, Sakura."
"You did too know! You always fucking knew! You're just a sexually depraved jackass who has nothing better to do than to torment me because he fucked up his own life and now needs to mess with everyone else's to get off!"
He, for the first time in his life, was livid.
She could see it written in the lines of his face and blanched, yet kept the same expression of hatred on her pretty face.
He knew she was young, inexperienced. The fact she had never been kissed told him this… And if she thought him such a detestable creature, why not prove her right?
She was nineteen. She wanted nothing more than to bring her first love back home and make things right.
He didn't give a flying fuck anymore, not that he'd ever say that. He just didn't care enough to think of anything past the fact he wanted her to hurt.
She was unsurprised at what happened next, when he lost control.
He took all of one point four seconds after her outburst to grasp her hair tightly and meld his mouth to hers, pressing her back into the bar until she groaned from the pain.
She didn't resist him this time.
He welcomed her passion, added his own to the mix.
She wanted to stop thinking.
He wanted her to forget.
She wanted to feel something that didn't echo with pain.
He wanted her to revel in the fucking pain, he wanted her to feel it, he wanted to make her regret the entirety of his life, the way that he did.
She wanted, in the sickest way, to move on and show her ex-team mate that she didn't love him.
He wanted her to break underneath him, wanted her to encounter Sasuke and let him know exactly who had changed her.
She wanted to cry, but he wouldn't let her.
He wanted to make her scream and beg, call his name.
She complied when he lifted her legs around his hips and shot a look at the bartender, who pointed simply to a back room.
He carried her there, fingers bruising her thighs as his tongue forcefully parted her lips.
She hated him. She hated him to the point where she felt she would die, but wanted nothing more than this.
He didn't care about her hate. He never would.
She knew it, and simply laid back and let him have his way.
He didn't want her to just let him do it and told her so. "Say my name, Sakura. Say it like there's no one else in the world."
"Itachi…" She whimpered, and he ravished the her skin and sent such hot shivers through her body that she felt it was on fire.
"Louder, Sakura. I want you to mean it."
She screamed for him once, than more. She wanted to feel every inch of him, but would never tell him that instead of thinking about the one she thought she loved, she was thinking only of him.
The fifth, six, seventh… all the way to the twenty-fourth time they met, it had all stayed the same.
She only looked at him with those huge, green eyes that he found so exquisite.
He never said a word to her. What they had was something that needed no explanation.
She would moan and writhe against him when he took her, no matter how. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes rough and brutal and filled with a desperate need.
He didn't want to need her.
She already knew that she needed him.
He felt attached, and that attachment was simply weakness.
She would try to tell him it was alright, and he would seal his lips to hers to shut her up.
He always left her breathless, wanting more, never lingering.
She try to figure out what made him this way.
He would never tell.
She would look at him dolefully, and he would feel himself crumble on the inside, but never acted on it.
He would always leave as quick as he had come, but every time before he left, he would press his lips to his forehead and tell her to remember this. To never forget.
She would whisper that she never would, no matter what… Even if he didn't want her anymore.
He would smirk and disappear, leaving her alone.
She never felt his presence leave, though his body was gone.
The twenty-fifth time they met was different.
She always came to him, and the same happened this time.
He looked up and swept her into his arms, leaning close to kiss her, but she pressed two fingers to his lips.
She seemed wistful, and her voice reflected that. "Itachi, I want you to answer a question for me."
He couldn't make a smartass remark about that, and nodded.
She took a moment to compose herself before whispering. "Do you love me?"
He stiffened. "Sakura…"
"Don't bullshit me, Itachi. None of your explanations—think about it and answer me."
He was unaccustomed to taking orders, but did as she asked. He did find some traits in her somewhat annoying, but she was a remarkable kunoichi, affectionate despite her nature and though she still hated him—he could tell by the look that she always gave him—he knew that she wanted validation, that she didn't want to have everything go to waste. She would be put to death should someone know.
She waited quietly, patiently.
He finally responded. "On the whole… I believe so, yes. I am somewhat unfamiliar with what it means to love, but I would like to think I do."
"Don't lie to me."
"I never lie, Sakura."
She smiled, and kissed him with such tenderness he felt his heart contract painfully.
He wondered why she was like this with him. He was always so stiff, like a wall, while she was like glass to him. Always transparent and so fragile, yet resilient and multifaceted.
She thought she loved him, and fell wholeheartedly into that fantasy, wanting to escape the dark that was slowly closing in on all sides. "Itachi?"
"Make love to me… Properly."
He hesitated, weighed the options, and nodded. It was something he didn't want to do, but he would do it for her.
The twenty-sixth time they met was the last.
She was with her team, trying to break through Kiri's borders on order from the Hokage.
He was with Kisame, on hunt for the Kyuubi.
She and her team were outrunning some Rain-nin that had been pursuing.
He knew there would be a battle, and when he saw it was her, his mouth set in a grim line.
She was hit from behind by a shuriken, and gasped out, stumbled.
He didn't hit that attacker, but instead one that was closing in on her.
She knew what he was after.
He knew that she would hesitate to kill him.
She knew neither of them wanted to break their cover.
He attacked her first, ignoring the Chidori sent his way from her sensei.
She growled and dodged, aiming a swift kick at his jaw.
He caressed her thigh, almost sensually, but it was over in an instant.
She shivered and faltered, but yelped when he grabbed her leg and pulled her against him.
He didn't' say anything. Scarlet bored into jade again, halting her.
"What are you…?"
"I will not blow my cover, Sakura. If this is how it must be, so be it."
She knew that none of her team mates would save her now. They were all too busy holding off the enemy nin.
He ignored the battle raging on behind them, ignored the protests issuing from her mouth as he drew his blade in a flash.
She didn't understand, didn't know what was happening.
He looked at her for a moment, eyes softening for a split second before running her through the chest with his sword.
She didn't feel it. She didn't hear Naruto's screams of "No!" or Kakashi's yells; didn't hear the soft apology whispered against her ear. She knew this was how it would end, in the back of her mind.
He could see she was crying, but this time, he wouldn't brush away the tears.
She knew he wouldn't. She couldn't breath, couldn't think rationally…
He watched as her blood poured over his cloak, her face turn pale as life faded from her eyes.
She wanted to know why.
He gave her a reprimanding look that told her that she already knew.
She expected as much, and her lips twisted in a wry smirk as her teammates grew nearer.
He noticed that time seemed to pass at an agonizingly slow rate—did the universe really wish to depress him further?
"You said you loved me, you lying bastard!" She says to him, her voice barely a whisper, but holding so much anger and hurt and betrayal that it is tangible.
He remains placid, but this time, he is like glass to her.
She can see his grief already, and knows that he regrets this.
He does regret it, and more than she would ever know. It takes him a long time to formulate a reply, but finally, he murmurs against her forehead in a such a soft, tender voice that it only makes more tears stream from her eyes.
She tries not to cry as the words echo in her head.
"…I never lie, Sakura."
She feels him drop her, and call it off, but it doesn't hurt.
He retreats, his face carefully composed again, forever the stone man she has come to love.
She stares up at the stars, not really seeing, and wishing that things could be different as her final breath leaves her.
There are no more meetings. There is only a name carved in stone. There are no happy endings.
He had wanted that, but now he was alone.
She was gone now, part of a world that he would join eventually.
He visits her grave once in a while, and in a display of his memory, leaves a glass cherry blossom with a small, flickering candle inside of it.
She was always that—a glass flower with a hidden flame that always shined through.
He supposes he deserves this…
She would have told him that's not so.
He can almost feel the caress of her fingers against his cheek as he watches the flame die, and lowers his eyes.
She was the only witness as for the first time in nearly twenty-six years, he shatters in his own silent way.
He doesn't brush away the single tear that travels down his face.