Innocent. Naïve. Beautiful.
If. Only. If only. If only, If only, If only.
There were few things worthy of her anger; few things truly upset the girl, no matter what theatrics she had learned from her mother. Itachi knew her like no other. No one else could claim to understand even a part of her mind like the one he did. But even he could not claim to know her full mind. And when he emerged from the shower, semi-wet and clad in only a towel, the last thing he expected was for Amaya to wrap her arms around his waist and bury her face in his neck. She was much taller now. Though she was not as tall as he was, and likely would never be, she was still strong enough to push him back into the wall. Even with the advantage of surprise, this was a rare feat for any to accomplish. He kept his hands at his sides and addressed the head burrowing its way into the place where his neck and shoulder joined. He dared not even swallow for a second, so surprised he was by her action. Finally, he managed to speak, in a voice steady, yet slightly roughened by his self-control.
“Amaya… I’m Naked.” She did not react for a moment, but her lips moved against his skin and he forced himself to keep his hands exactly where they were, at his sides. He noticed now the tense set to her shoulders, the –almost trembling- stance she took and sighed. “What happened?” Itachi asked this statement bluntly, forcing himself to be as rough with her he could manage. There was no way for him to be nice to her in a situation like this and keep control. At age fifteen, she was much more naïve than anyone of her standing had a right to be. Her voice nearly broke him, but her words brought him to firm ground quickly. She was very upset, and it showed in her voice. No one else would be privy to her words, he knew. She only told him of her problems, and no one else new she had true emotions. Her voice was almost scared, but it also shook with a slight anger. It had to have been something on the mission she had just finished.
“We… did well on the mission…” she started, and he nodded, knowing she would feel the motion. Shifting her, he managed to place his hands on her shoulders –and only her shoulders- and gently turn her around. He walked her to his room as she talked. "Jakuell, Matchi and I were told by Tzu-sensei to go shower..." Itachi's eyes closed, and he nodded. Arriving at his door, he pulled the scarf from around her neck and wrapped it around her blue eyes. She did not object at all, trusting him completely. His hands, chastely placed on her shoulders, guided her to sit at the bed in his room. He began to dress himself, as she continued, her posture demure and unassuming, but not self-conscious or uncomfortable. "I removed my clothing..." she continued, and he looked through his clothing; he finally selected something comfortable enough to sleep in, yet flexible enough to train or spar in, something Akina wouldn't object to cleaning blood out of. "And stepped into the shower room. I..." Itachi dressed quickly, his mind running through possibilities. One of her teammates had assaulted her in the bath. Her sensei had done so. There was enemy ninja. Some random pervert had been watching her. She had been hurt somehow. The ideas in his mind became more and more violent; he imagined himself killing people, who had somehow wronged her, upset her, his Imoto. "I think I'm going crazy." His mind stopped with all the force of a fly between a kunai and a tree. It was instant, and painful.
"What?" he asked, turning to look at her, pausing in the middle of buttoning his pants to look at her. Biting onto his lower lip, an indecisive move that he had only recently acquired from that bitch Akina, he thought. Just on eighteen, Itachi was only now, in Konoha, a legal adult -If he had been a citizen and not a ninja that is. He buttoned the last snap and pulled the scarf from her eyes to look into them. The ice blue was murky, clouded and confused. "Why would you think that, Amaya?" he asked cautiously, making sure to use her name. Her hands found his blindly, and she held onto him like a lifeline. Her hands were cold, and it made his blood run with ice. Amaya was never cold when he was around. She stayed silent, and his mind raced with something akin to fear. He placed her hands against his chest, mentally wincing as he felt his heart slow from the cold touch. She was radiating the cold of the Marise now, and he refused- Itachi refused to let it take her. He could only hope he mattered enough to her for her to stop before he died, not for him, but for her. "Amaya?" he asked, and then swallowed, trying to control the slight tremors of his voice, almost inevitable from the cold. His other hand turned her face to look at him. "Amaya. Look at me." Her eyes focused on him, laser-like, predatory almost, and his breath was a plume of white ice crystals from his mouth. He held her gaze, silvery-black on ice blue, stubborn as the devil herself. Her gaze finally softened, and she wrapped her arms around him again in a hug. The icy grip around his heart receded, and his breathing became less restricted, it stopped freezing upon contact with the air. He rested his head on hers as she held onto him, apologizing. She always apologized for things to him, whether they were her fault or not, and he had all but given up on trying to tell her to stop. "Just tell me what’s wrong." he interrupted her gently, disengaging the tight grip of her arms from around his neck and looking her in the eyes again.
"I... I saw... someone in the mirror... a male." his eyes widened slightly, and one eyebrow lifted, but he waited for her to continue. "He-he... he was undressed, as I was, and a white liquid coated some of his lower body. Like milk." She looked up at him. "Like milk, but thicker. Like heavy cream, maybe." Itachi's eye twitched and a vein pulsed lightly over his temple. Too innocent. The girl was far too innocent. "He was very pale, and looked like hadn't slept much recently... his walk was uncomfortable, indecisive... unsure of himself." Itachi nodded as her voice and words became more critical, analytical, and less hesitant. "His hair was stuck up in the back like a shark, or the ass of a chicken perhaps, while the front hung down in fringes like bangs. The length was to his chin. His eyes were black, not like coal, but like obsidian; a reflective black or brown bordering on black, red-rimmed and nearly blood-shot." Her shoulders straightened slightly and she rolled them a moment, thinking. "He was toned. Definitely a ninja. Everything in his bearing suggested that training was perhaps the most important thing to him. He seemed the type A personality. Cocky, arrogant, regal. Sur de lui- I am sorry. He was sure of himself and uncertain of himself as well." Itachi held up a hand to pause her. Amaya knew, understood the strangeness of her words, and she clarified them without Itachi saying a word. "He was unsure of the situation he was in. Perhaps something before had unsettled him, like the spilling of the liquid on himself, or his lack of sleep combined with seeing me, but he is the type to be sure of himself at all moments, as he recovered from the shock rather quickly. As for his location, I would have to say Konoha. It is the only logical location for him to have been." That last part was a bucket of water over Itachi's head that he had seen, but could not duck. She was describing his younger brother. He was sure of it now.
"We interacted for a moment. He couldn't seem to look away from my body, so when he met my eyes, I asked him if he'd enjoyed taking so much time to look me over. He..." Her voice hesitated for a moment, as she took the time to compose herself her voice became very clinical. "His eyes roamed my body again. It was predatory, the way he did it, like the way the men look at me here when I let my hair loose. It made my body react." Her hand clenched into a fist over her lower abdomen. "Here, it seemed to pulse with my heart, sending jolts of what felt like chakra through my system. My body tensed strangely, almost like when I fight-to-kill." Itachi let out a breath and tried not to imagine the changes she was talking about. He had known the conversation would take one of two directions eventually. She would have been upset either by him, or by her responses to him that she did not understand. Itachi wanted to kill something. Why couldn't Akina explain these things to her? "I don't believe he could hear me, because when he responded, I couldn't hear him." Itachi blinked, realizing he had zoned out part of her words, which was probably best for him anyway. "But he called me beautiful. I denied his words. It made me embarrassed... I think. I" The male sweat dropped. "Reached out to the mirror, because he did the same. My hand met his. I was surprised at this, and I pulled away; then the mirror became simply a mirror again, and I could see only myself." Itachi blew out a breath. He lifted a hand to his hair and pushed it back, out of his face, as the cold, damp tendrils had strayed. Water droplets ran down his bare back and dripped from the tips of his hair. Her hands set to pulling the moisture from his hair, using a jutsu to dry it. He almost smiled, and that almost smile was almost teasing.
“I see.” He sat back and looked at her when she had finished. “Amaya… Were you embarrassed because you enjoyed his gaze on you?” Her mouth opened wide, wider than her eyes, large and round as a genjutsu orb. Her face flushed bright red, and she looked down, away from him, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Itachi waited…, waited…, and waited…
“Yes…” she responded finally in a small voice, and he smiled to himself. “Yes… Yes, I enjoyed it a lot…” her voice was still that small, meek, almost-whisper, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.
“I know who you are referring to, Amaya.” Itachi told her casually. “I always knew my brother would become a toy for women’s Imaginations… tell me, Amaya, what are you imagining?” She looked up at him in confusion. She did not say it, but her face showed the thought clearly all over her features. Huh? Itachi sighed and shook his head. “I forgot you wouldn’t understand that.” He placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair slightly. “I’m going to go talk to your father.” She looked up at him expectantly, holding onto the hand that had been on her hair, and he blinked for a moment before remembering himself. He leaned down to kiss her, brushing his lips lightly over hers, and she closed her eyes as she always did. She smiled happily when he pulled away. His hand left hers and he sighed. So simple, so easy to please, his Imoto was. Walking away, he could hear a soft sigh from her that he disregarded in favor of speaking to that asshole father of hers.
If possible, I dislike this chapter more than I dislike the one before it. Itachi is sooooooo Ooc, in my opinion, but hey... It's my fic, so whatever.
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