eden part 3
Definitely not fabulous, but an update nonetheless. I'm trying to finish something, at least. Plus, I just finished one story, so before I begin my next story I thought I would take a break to do some fanfic'in. :)
Title: Eden
Author: Hana J.
Rating: R-NC-17
Pairing: Itachi/Sasuke
Summary: Itachi is a God among Uchiha and Sasuke makes him that way.
Parts: 1 | 2
Et cetera: Tell me what you hate, like, if you want me to continue et al. That sort of thing because I'm really unsure about this (also known as this sucks, haha) so feedback is love. Not to uh, bribe you or anything. *grins*
Sasuke stares in the mirror as he ties his forehead protector around his head, fiddling with the knot. He hasn’t heard of Kakashi before, not until Mother told him he was to be his teacher. He imagines someone with dark hair, stern eyes, and a constant frown. Kakashi, he finds, is not what he expects.
Waiting near the training grounds just outside of the Academy, Sasuke watches his Mother leave. She is without her apron, in pants, and looks more like a ninja than a Mother. He wants to marry someone like her.
Kakashi is three hours late. Sasuke doesn’t have a watch, but the shadows of the trees around him have shortened. Glaring up at the branches, as if they are fault, Sasuke is surprised to see a man with a mask staring down at him. He scrambles up, tripping over a root.
“Are you. . .?”
“Ah,” Kakashi breathes, and Sasuke can barely hear him. “You must be the brat I was assigned to teach.”
Sasuke snaps his mouth shut, dumbstruck with his rudeness. “I’m-“
“Uchiha Sasuke,” Kakashi answers for him. “Well,” he says, disappearing in a flash and then reappearing with a puff of smoke right beside him, “why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Um,” Sasuke flounders, unsure of what to say.
Kakashi opens his book, letting Sasuke peer at the cover, only to blush and look away. “Your likes, dislikes, ambitions, that sort of thing.”
“I like. . . Mother’s cooking!” Sasuke glances at Kakashi, only to see that his teacher isn’t paying attention. He frowns. “I hate it when Itachi promises to train me, only he never does. And my ambition is to become a better ninja that Itachi,” he says with a flourish.
Kakashi is still reading his book. Sasuke glares and stands up. “If you aren’t interested then you shouldn’t-“
Holding up a hand, Kakashi interrupts him. “You plan to be a better ninja than Itachi,” he echoes, and Sasuke falls silent. So he was listening.
“What about you?” Sasuke asks, biting his lip in hesitation.
Shutting his book with a snap, Kakashi focuses his one-eyed gaze on him and Sasuke finds his grey eye startling. Even with only one eye, Kakashi manages to gain Sasuke’s full attention.
“Hmm. . .I have no desire to tell you about my likes and dislikes.”
“You’re rude,” Sasuke says, eyeing the weird man. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be my teacher?”
And then, as Kakashi turns away, motioning for him to follow, Sasuke thinks that beneath the mask, Kakashi is smiling.
“And you’re a brat.” Kakashi walks away and Sasuke trails behind him.
“I don’t like him,” Sasuke announces to his family at dinner that night.
Mikoto frowns, dishing out slices of salmon, gilled with soy sauce and sugar. She hands Sasuke his plate, wiping her hands on her apron before sitting down at the table next to Fugaku. Sasuke sits across from her, Itachi on his right side across from Father.
They all say a thank you for their food beneath their breath, everyone’s words in-sync, as a family should be.
“Why not?” Mikoto asks, taking a bite of fish and putting her chopsticks down as she waits for it to cool. She does not fan her mouth as Sasuke does, and he waits until he has swallowed his food before answering her.
“Because, he’s a jerk.”
“Sasuke,” Fugaku warns, chopsticks paused in mid-stride to his mouth. “It is not your place to question or insult those of higher standing.”
“He isn’t an Uchiha,” Sasuke complains, poking at his food before taking another big bite.
Itachi takes small bites of his own food, mouth working slowly to devour, in deep contrast with Sasuke own hasty bites. Sasuke swallows, looking away from Itachi and feeling deeply shamed. He can’t even eat right.
“That does not make him an inferior ninja. In fact,” Mikoto states proudly, “Kakashi has not yet taught anyone in all his time as a Jounin, even though many people have asked for his expertise. They call him the Copy Ninja because-“
“Because,” Fugaku interrupts, voice stern and bitter, “of an ability one of our clansmen gave him. That is not something one should be proud of.”
Mikoto stills and pulls away from her food. The air feels suddenly tight and Sasuke watches his parents. They are looking at each other strangely, as if they are fighting an unseen enemy between them. Sasuke knows Mikoto will win, because inside the family, she is the head.
Mikoto bows her head and apologizes. For the first time, Sasuke feels something else aside from admiration for his Father. He wants to yell at him for making Mother look like that: head bowed, hair falling in front of her eyes, smile nonexistent. And then she looks up and it is like nothing is different. She is smiling as she changes the subject to Itachi’s recent mission.
Abruptly, Sasuke wonders if that is what he looks like when Itachi says tomorrow.
That night, for the first time, Itachi comes to Sasuke’s room.
Sasuke turns over to find Itachi staring at him. He almost shrieks, thinking this is it, my dream is real only Itachi doesn’t raise a hand to strangle him and his eyes are not red.
“Tell me,” Itachi says, leaning so close that Sasuke can feel his breath against his cheek. “How was your training?”
Scooting over, Sasuke offers Itachi some room and Itachi slips into his bed, like a bigger version of himself. It is disconcerting.
“I didn’t learn anything.” Pouting at the ceiling, Sasuke gives up when it doesn’t get him the desired effect. He can feel Itachi’s eyes him, like spiders legs trailing over his skin, leaving a shiver threading through him wherever his gaze lands.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you out to the training grounds.” Itachi starts to stand, but Sasuke grabs his arm before he can completely leave.
“Really?” he asks, tightening his grip on Itachi’s wrist. Itachi does not wince, Sasuke thinks: my grip must be weak.
“Yes.”
And then Sasuke remembers. “But I have to train with Kakashi-sensei.”
“Do you?” Itachi asks as he pulls away. “That’s too bad, then. Next time.”
Sasuke knows better than to expect a next time.
He skips the practice scheduled with Kakashi.
Laughing, Sasuke taps a charred fist against Itachi’s head. Itachi has him on his shoulders, giving him another piggyback ride despite Itachi’s claims that he was too old. Sasuke can’t imagine Itachi ever saying no.
“Did that surprise you?” he asks.
“Yes,” Itachi says mildly, “it did. You did very well, Sasuke.”
Smiling at the praise, Sasuke feels like nothing can make this day bad. That is, until he sees Mikoto standing by the entrance of their house with Kakashi beside her.
“You missed your practice,” Mikoto admonishes. Her voice is low, angry, harsh-it has never been directed at him this way before.
“I’m sorry.”
“That is no excuse, Uchiha Sasuke! You shame both your father and me.”
Kakashi sits in the waiting room, within hearing distance. Sasuke flushes all that much more, knowing that both Itachi and Kakashi can hear his Mother. “I’m sorry,” he says, quieter.
Itachi speaks up from the next room, his voice crisp and clear. “Do not blame Sasuke, Mother, I asked him to accompany me.”
Even though Sasuke cannot see Itachi, he can imagine what he looks like, sitting straight with bent knees, head bowed and ponytail lose from training. Mikoto pales at his voice and Sasuke watches as she brings a hand to her collarbone, mouth working to voice words that Sasuke will never know.
“Fine,” she breathes, and her voice is cracking. “Fine, if that is the way it happened. Do not let this happen again, Sasuke.”
But Sasuke understands; she is not talking to him.
Kakashi does not show up for the next three lessons and Sasuke knows this is punishment. But he sits beneath the tree anyway and waits until the time he would normally be dismissed before going home. On his way home, Kakashi passes him on the street, his face half-hidden by the orange covered book Sasuke always sees him with. Kakashi does not look at him when he walks by, and for some reason, that makes Sasuke feel worse.
On the fourth lesson, Kakashi shows up thirty-minutes late and makes him run until his legs give out. Kakashi carries him home, an odd mockery of Itachi.
Itachi isn’t there when Kakashi brings him home.
Before Kakashi leaves, he hands him a scroll. Sasuke takes it gently, the edges of it are soft with age and yellow.
“Read all of it before tomorrow,” Kakashi instructs.
The next day, Kakashi shows him how to walk on water.
Sasuke comes home soaked; water dripping from his hair, his clothes plastered to his skin and bruises around his wrists where Kakashi had hauled him out of the water too many times to count. He almost drowned three times but it never stopped him from trying.
That night he doesn’t go to Itachi’s room, instead he goes to the small dock halfway between his home and the ramen-stand.
He comes home wet.
Itachi is waiting for him, sitting on his bed when he gets home.
“Here,” Itachi says, handing him a towel. There is no inflection in his voice and Sasuke feels even colder at the words. He crosses his arms, trying to ward off the night chill that had seeped deep into his bones like the water that had seeped into his clothes.
He takes the towel, scrubbing his hair, and Itachi helps him peel off his clothes. Itachi’s hands run over his skin, smoothing away water with the rough brush of a towel, slipping over his chest, his stomach, his back and it feels like with only two hands, Itachi can wrap the towel around him until he can no longer move.
Sasuke does not feel afraid and he leans into Itachi’s touch, used to it in the same way he is used to Mother’s cooking.
Itachi drops the towel and takes his wrist in his hand, turning it over as he leads him to the bed. “Your wrist?”
“Oh,” Sasuke says, laughing a bit in embarrassment. “Kakashi-sensei was trying to teach me how to walk on water and I fell in a, um, couple of times. From when he was pulling me out.”
“Ah.” Itachi pushes him down onto the bed and Sasuke doesn’t need to get undressed.
In the morning, the bruises on his wrists are not the same as the bruises Kakashi left. If Sasuke looks close enough, he can see where his brother’s nails left indents.
At breakfast, Mikoto fusses over his wrists. She wipes a smelly, green slave on them and bandages them. Itachi watches them from the kitchen table and Mikoto does not ask where he got them.
Sasuke tells her anyway, about his training and how Kakashi wasn’t very nice and how he couldn’t even stay afloat. Mikoto smiles and laughs, telling him not to worry, that he’ll pick it up soon enough, but the smile is tight and leaves wrinkles near the corner of her eyes.
Eventually, Sasuke falls silent and Mikoto wraps the bandages around his wrists in the quiet, rising sun of morning.
The only sound that interrupts them is Itachi as he stands, his slippers making a muffled pat-pat against the tatami.
“I’ll be gone for two days.”
Mikoto makes a noise of agreement but Itachi does not leave. He doesn’t leave until Sasuke is at his side, following him at the door.
“Bye, Mother!” Sasuke calls as he puts on his sandals. He doesn’t look back so he doesn’t notice the way she clutches her apron as she watches him leave with Itachi.
...
Ugh. Whatever, fanfic, I am so over you. Really. Okay, fine. Expect a lot of updates this week as I'm taking a break from my original work since I just finished a piece of shit known as a story.
Also, apologies for the sucking. I didn't take a lot of time writing this but I wanted to get back on track writing-wise on a few of my chaptered things. So, I suppose this is getting back on track? As always, feel free to point out mistakes, criticism, etc. so I can fix it.
Extra Note: Realized this was locked and the other parts were not (odd, that) so I'm temporarily unlocking it.
Title: Eden
Author: Hana J.
Rating: R-NC-17
Pairing: Itachi/Sasuke
Summary: Itachi is a God among Uchiha and Sasuke makes him that way.
Parts: 1 | 2
Et cetera: Tell me what you hate, like, if you want me to continue et al. That sort of thing because I'm really unsure about this (also known as this sucks, haha) so feedback is love. Not to uh, bribe you or anything. *grins*
Sasuke stares in the mirror as he ties his forehead protector around his head, fiddling with the knot. He hasn’t heard of Kakashi before, not until Mother told him he was to be his teacher. He imagines someone with dark hair, stern eyes, and a constant frown. Kakashi, he finds, is not what he expects.
Waiting near the training grounds just outside of the Academy, Sasuke watches his Mother leave. She is without her apron, in pants, and looks more like a ninja than a Mother. He wants to marry someone like her.
Kakashi is three hours late. Sasuke doesn’t have a watch, but the shadows of the trees around him have shortened. Glaring up at the branches, as if they are fault, Sasuke is surprised to see a man with a mask staring down at him. He scrambles up, tripping over a root.
“Are you. . .?”
“Ah,” Kakashi breathes, and Sasuke can barely hear him. “You must be the brat I was assigned to teach.”
Sasuke snaps his mouth shut, dumbstruck with his rudeness. “I’m-“
“Uchiha Sasuke,” Kakashi answers for him. “Well,” he says, disappearing in a flash and then reappearing with a puff of smoke right beside him, “why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Um,” Sasuke flounders, unsure of what to say.
Kakashi opens his book, letting Sasuke peer at the cover, only to blush and look away. “Your likes, dislikes, ambitions, that sort of thing.”
“I like. . . Mother’s cooking!” Sasuke glances at Kakashi, only to see that his teacher isn’t paying attention. He frowns. “I hate it when Itachi promises to train me, only he never does. And my ambition is to become a better ninja that Itachi,” he says with a flourish.
Kakashi is still reading his book. Sasuke glares and stands up. “If you aren’t interested then you shouldn’t-“
Holding up a hand, Kakashi interrupts him. “You plan to be a better ninja than Itachi,” he echoes, and Sasuke falls silent. So he was listening.
“What about you?” Sasuke asks, biting his lip in hesitation.
Shutting his book with a snap, Kakashi focuses his one-eyed gaze on him and Sasuke finds his grey eye startling. Even with only one eye, Kakashi manages to gain Sasuke’s full attention.
“Hmm. . .I have no desire to tell you about my likes and dislikes.”
“You’re rude,” Sasuke says, eyeing the weird man. “Are you sure you’re supposed to be my teacher?”
And then, as Kakashi turns away, motioning for him to follow, Sasuke thinks that beneath the mask, Kakashi is smiling.
“And you’re a brat.” Kakashi walks away and Sasuke trails behind him.
“I don’t like him,” Sasuke announces to his family at dinner that night.
Mikoto frowns, dishing out slices of salmon, gilled with soy sauce and sugar. She hands Sasuke his plate, wiping her hands on her apron before sitting down at the table next to Fugaku. Sasuke sits across from her, Itachi on his right side across from Father.
They all say a thank you for their food beneath their breath, everyone’s words in-sync, as a family should be.
“Why not?” Mikoto asks, taking a bite of fish and putting her chopsticks down as she waits for it to cool. She does not fan her mouth as Sasuke does, and he waits until he has swallowed his food before answering her.
“Because, he’s a jerk.”
“Sasuke,” Fugaku warns, chopsticks paused in mid-stride to his mouth. “It is not your place to question or insult those of higher standing.”
“He isn’t an Uchiha,” Sasuke complains, poking at his food before taking another big bite.
Itachi takes small bites of his own food, mouth working slowly to devour, in deep contrast with Sasuke own hasty bites. Sasuke swallows, looking away from Itachi and feeling deeply shamed. He can’t even eat right.
“That does not make him an inferior ninja. In fact,” Mikoto states proudly, “Kakashi has not yet taught anyone in all his time as a Jounin, even though many people have asked for his expertise. They call him the Copy Ninja because-“
“Because,” Fugaku interrupts, voice stern and bitter, “of an ability one of our clansmen gave him. That is not something one should be proud of.”
Mikoto stills and pulls away from her food. The air feels suddenly tight and Sasuke watches his parents. They are looking at each other strangely, as if they are fighting an unseen enemy between them. Sasuke knows Mikoto will win, because inside the family, she is the head.
Mikoto bows her head and apologizes. For the first time, Sasuke feels something else aside from admiration for his Father. He wants to yell at him for making Mother look like that: head bowed, hair falling in front of her eyes, smile nonexistent. And then she looks up and it is like nothing is different. She is smiling as she changes the subject to Itachi’s recent mission.
Abruptly, Sasuke wonders if that is what he looks like when Itachi says tomorrow.
That night, for the first time, Itachi comes to Sasuke’s room.
Sasuke turns over to find Itachi staring at him. He almost shrieks, thinking this is it, my dream is real only Itachi doesn’t raise a hand to strangle him and his eyes are not red.
“Tell me,” Itachi says, leaning so close that Sasuke can feel his breath against his cheek. “How was your training?”
Scooting over, Sasuke offers Itachi some room and Itachi slips into his bed, like a bigger version of himself. It is disconcerting.
“I didn’t learn anything.” Pouting at the ceiling, Sasuke gives up when it doesn’t get him the desired effect. He can feel Itachi’s eyes him, like spiders legs trailing over his skin, leaving a shiver threading through him wherever his gaze lands.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you out to the training grounds.” Itachi starts to stand, but Sasuke grabs his arm before he can completely leave.
“Really?” he asks, tightening his grip on Itachi’s wrist. Itachi does not wince, Sasuke thinks: my grip must be weak.
“Yes.”
And then Sasuke remembers. “But I have to train with Kakashi-sensei.”
“Do you?” Itachi asks as he pulls away. “That’s too bad, then. Next time.”
Sasuke knows better than to expect a next time.
He skips the practice scheduled with Kakashi.
Laughing, Sasuke taps a charred fist against Itachi’s head. Itachi has him on his shoulders, giving him another piggyback ride despite Itachi’s claims that he was too old. Sasuke can’t imagine Itachi ever saying no.
“Did that surprise you?” he asks.
“Yes,” Itachi says mildly, “it did. You did very well, Sasuke.”
Smiling at the praise, Sasuke feels like nothing can make this day bad. That is, until he sees Mikoto standing by the entrance of their house with Kakashi beside her.
“You missed your practice,” Mikoto admonishes. Her voice is low, angry, harsh-it has never been directed at him this way before.
“I’m sorry.”
“That is no excuse, Uchiha Sasuke! You shame both your father and me.”
Kakashi sits in the waiting room, within hearing distance. Sasuke flushes all that much more, knowing that both Itachi and Kakashi can hear his Mother. “I’m sorry,” he says, quieter.
Itachi speaks up from the next room, his voice crisp and clear. “Do not blame Sasuke, Mother, I asked him to accompany me.”
Even though Sasuke cannot see Itachi, he can imagine what he looks like, sitting straight with bent knees, head bowed and ponytail lose from training. Mikoto pales at his voice and Sasuke watches as she brings a hand to her collarbone, mouth working to voice words that Sasuke will never know.
“Fine,” she breathes, and her voice is cracking. “Fine, if that is the way it happened. Do not let this happen again, Sasuke.”
But Sasuke understands; she is not talking to him.
Kakashi does not show up for the next three lessons and Sasuke knows this is punishment. But he sits beneath the tree anyway and waits until the time he would normally be dismissed before going home. On his way home, Kakashi passes him on the street, his face half-hidden by the orange covered book Sasuke always sees him with. Kakashi does not look at him when he walks by, and for some reason, that makes Sasuke feel worse.
On the fourth lesson, Kakashi shows up thirty-minutes late and makes him run until his legs give out. Kakashi carries him home, an odd mockery of Itachi.
Itachi isn’t there when Kakashi brings him home.
Before Kakashi leaves, he hands him a scroll. Sasuke takes it gently, the edges of it are soft with age and yellow.
“Read all of it before tomorrow,” Kakashi instructs.
The next day, Kakashi shows him how to walk on water.
Sasuke comes home soaked; water dripping from his hair, his clothes plastered to his skin and bruises around his wrists where Kakashi had hauled him out of the water too many times to count. He almost drowned three times but it never stopped him from trying.
That night he doesn’t go to Itachi’s room, instead he goes to the small dock halfway between his home and the ramen-stand.
He comes home wet.
Itachi is waiting for him, sitting on his bed when he gets home.
“Here,” Itachi says, handing him a towel. There is no inflection in his voice and Sasuke feels even colder at the words. He crosses his arms, trying to ward off the night chill that had seeped deep into his bones like the water that had seeped into his clothes.
He takes the towel, scrubbing his hair, and Itachi helps him peel off his clothes. Itachi’s hands run over his skin, smoothing away water with the rough brush of a towel, slipping over his chest, his stomach, his back and it feels like with only two hands, Itachi can wrap the towel around him until he can no longer move.
Sasuke does not feel afraid and he leans into Itachi’s touch, used to it in the same way he is used to Mother’s cooking.
Itachi drops the towel and takes his wrist in his hand, turning it over as he leads him to the bed. “Your wrist?”
“Oh,” Sasuke says, laughing a bit in embarrassment. “Kakashi-sensei was trying to teach me how to walk on water and I fell in a, um, couple of times. From when he was pulling me out.”
“Ah.” Itachi pushes him down onto the bed and Sasuke doesn’t need to get undressed.
In the morning, the bruises on his wrists are not the same as the bruises Kakashi left. If Sasuke looks close enough, he can see where his brother’s nails left indents.
At breakfast, Mikoto fusses over his wrists. She wipes a smelly, green slave on them and bandages them. Itachi watches them from the kitchen table and Mikoto does not ask where he got them.
Sasuke tells her anyway, about his training and how Kakashi wasn’t very nice and how he couldn’t even stay afloat. Mikoto smiles and laughs, telling him not to worry, that he’ll pick it up soon enough, but the smile is tight and leaves wrinkles near the corner of her eyes.
Eventually, Sasuke falls silent and Mikoto wraps the bandages around his wrists in the quiet, rising sun of morning.
The only sound that interrupts them is Itachi as he stands, his slippers making a muffled pat-pat against the tatami.
“I’ll be gone for two days.”
Mikoto makes a noise of agreement but Itachi does not leave. He doesn’t leave until Sasuke is at his side, following him at the door.
“Bye, Mother!” Sasuke calls as he puts on his sandals. He doesn’t look back so he doesn’t notice the way she clutches her apron as she watches him leave with Itachi.
...
Ugh. Whatever, fanfic, I am so over you. Really. Okay, fine. Expect a lot of updates this week as I'm taking a break from my original work since I just finished a piece of shit known as a story.
Also, apologies for the sucking. I didn't take a lot of time writing this but I wanted to get back on track writing-wise on a few of my chaptered things. So, I suppose this is getting back on track? As always, feel free to point out mistakes, criticism, etc. so I can fix it.
Extra Note: Realized this was locked and the other parts were not (odd, that) so I'm temporarily unlocking it.