The Apple, a naruto fanfic

i. The Dream

200 years earlier.

"I'm dying."

Itachi stared dispassionately at the woman swathed in white sheets; her thin and boney frame, worn from fatigue, barely made a dent in the expensive mattress. Her hands were absently tracing his palm, as if to memorize its contours. Pain lanced across her features as she coughed, the sound thick and uncomfortable in her throat. Itachi could smell the blood, hear it gurgling at the back of her throat, but he sat still, trying to memorize the woman's features as she slowly slipped from the world, from him.

The woman tried to smile, succeeding in only a weak twist of her lips before her jade eyes were once again shielded with translucent skin, the coughs racking her body and splattering the white duvet with specks of blood. Itachi moved a hand to smooth the red locks on her pale face, and she smiled at him, thick lashes framing her green irises and glittering with barely sustained life.

"It's okay," she whispered, watching the man with tender eyes as he stilled. His crimson eyes turned to focus on her hollow face, and the woman smiled faintly before lifting a hand to his cheeks. They were colder than hers, but she was used to it from the years that she had spent exploring his features with both her hands and her heart.

"I won't forget you," she promised, eyes shining as Itachi moved his hands to cover hers; something imperceptible glowed in his eyes as he watched the woman slowly fade away.

"You are dying," he intoned, "you will not remember me."

"Trust me," The woman said, her eyes tracing his flawless features one more time before her lids slipped close, "I'll never leave you. Because I love you."

Itachi was silent as he watched the woman take a last shuddering breath before her hand fell limp in his own.

ii. The Garden

200 years later.

She dreamed that night.

She didn't dream often, though upon waking she would often be too tired to even make an effort to remember, but her dreams had not often been so vivid. It was the night she had met him, her narrow brush with Death that had left her vulnerable to his conditions, to him.

She tried to scream, but the sound didn't leave her throat before a calloused hand closed in on her and pushed her violently back into the alley wall. Sakura gasped, her vision flashing off then back on as the back of her head collided with the brick, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. The man approached her, pocket knife spinning idly in his hand as he approached.

"Not so cocky anymore, hm?" he slurred, kicking the woman in the ribs as she tried to pull herself back into a standing position. She spat out blood as she tried to retain her consciousness, black spots dancing across her eyelids as she bit her lip to keep from screaming. Her ribs were fractured – the sharp pain was enough for the young medical student to determine from her own condition. Her fuzzy mind regained focus once again as the man knelt before her, brandishing his knife like a trophy as he pushed his face in front of hers, foul breath washing over her battered face like sewers.

"Where's your strength, missy? Where's your flare? Burnt out so early?" he taunted, tracing the knife slowly down her neck, and if it had been anything other than the sharp object he was holding over her now one could have mistaken it for a soft caress. Sakura glared weakly at him, before her eyes flamed to life and she spat in his face, watched triumphantly as he fell back jerkily and tried to wipe the blood and spit from his eyes.

"Fuck you." She snarled, and fear struck her deep when the man growled angrily, picking up his knife where he dropped it moments ago and stalking over to the wounded woman. "You will pay for your insolence," he growled, "but I'll give you enough credit. You have a nerve, girl, and for that, you'll die. Slowly."

Blood. That was all Sakura could taste when he slashed the knife across her thin neck. Then all was dark.

There was screaming, and then nothing more.

The moonlight skittered across her eyes like blades and Sakura squinted her eyes feebly against the intruding glare. She felt like she was floating in water, her movements restricted by the liquid that weighed a ton over her tired hands. She certainly wasn't alive anymore – she had been prone to that when she had felt the blood slide down her trachea and into her lungs, and she still wasn't breathing. Her lips curled sardonically at the moon, which shone with great luminance in the night sky. Naruto would be sad – no, he would be devastated – but he had Hinata. But there was still Kakashi-sensei, and Sasuke, Ino, Tenten… She never feared death, and she had never, for certain in the whole of her existence, felt so light.

'I wanted to be a med student so I could save lives,' she mused, 'but I couldn't even save myself.' The irony slid off her like mercury and she couldn't help but smile – or at least, she tried to, but her muscles weren't getting the message – albeit a little sadly, at her situation. But at least she had no regrets. Dark lashes fluttered across pale, dusty cheeks, and Sakura felt the rest of her blood drain slowly out of the wound. She could feel the fatigue creeping up to her, and she didn't try to resist. Going with the flow didn't hurt now, did it?

Then there was red. Eyes, Sakura thought listlessly as she looked up into the shaded figure of a man – or a woman, she wasn't sure with that hair. They were the color of blood – crimson, but bright; deadly, but turbulent with something that she could not put her finger on. They were breathtaking almost as much as they were dangerous. Sakura felt her eyes start to droop and she succumbed gratefully to the void of numbness, but not before catching a glimpse of the man lowering his head towards her, but soon her eyes closed, and peace engulfed her in a sea of silence.

And then the pain started.

She tried to scream – but there was too much blood in her lungs – and she could suddenly feel the skin of her neck, near the wound, stretch, stretch, stretch – the pain snapped her eyes open like shades and suddenly, the blood having all dried up from the heat that scoured her veins, she wasn't sure – and she was screaming madly, trying to throw the man off of her as his lips remained unmoving over her wound. Sakura thought for a moment that she could see her life flashing before her eyes, accompanying the waves of pain that slid over her spine with each pull of his lips, each nip of his teeth, and the almost unendurable pain of her skin stretching to cover the broken flesh, knitting together until once again, after an eternity in that moment where even death was more than welcome, everything was still. The only difference was that, once again, she was breathing.

Her eyelids remained hooded but she saw the man – she was certain of his sex now – raise his head from his neck and watch her with eyes filled with heat, possession, and something akin to glee. His lips, damped with her blood and ruby in color, gleamed viciously in the moonlight, and as she slipped back into unconsciousness, his mouth moved in an almost silent murmur.

"I have found you."

When she woke up, she found herself lying on her back, covered in silk maroon sheets and feeling better than she had in a long time. Sakura almost contemplated going back to sleep and seeing the red eyed man that had appeared in her dreams before her instincts registered, and she raised herself, hyperaware of all the things around her. A hand appeared, pushed her gently back into the pillows and her eyes slid, for what seemed like a millennium, before landing on the man with those red, red eyes.

The man who had saved her. But he was also the man that had killed the thug.

"Who are you?" Sakura asked quietly, training her eyes to the black clad man staring at her from across the room, red eyes smoldering in their heat and intensity. She hadn't really expected him to answer her question anyway, so she tried a softer approach.

"Well, thank you for saving me…" she trailed off, uncertain how to continue. Shifting uneasily under the weight of his stare she moved to sit up again, only to be surprised at his sudden appearance at her side as he smoothly tucked her back in, hands trailing momentarily across the bared flesh of her collarbone. She shivered lightly before looking up to him in silent consternation and fear, the feelings twisting in her gut more than the kick the mugger had given her before he had moved to cut her throat. Had he saved her just to kill her again? What was he doing? Her fear soothed a bit, much to her own surprise and unease, as he smoothed her bangs back with a finely structured hand, lingering to caress her flushed cheeks.

"I have waited for you," he replied quietly, hands lingering on her skin before removing itself completely from her being, "for two hundred years."

Sakura stilled at the gentle rumble of his voice, her resolve wavering dangerously as she felt herself sucked into those crimson depths. Those eyes pulled and tugged at her soul, and she felt something – warm, foreign, dangerous – stir in her chest. She blinked, and it was gone. But the moment had been enough to warn her and she turned her head cautiously to the side to avoid his gaze. She heard him chuckle, before he was close enough that his breath ghosted across the base of her neck. She could feel his smile as he pressed his lips to the skin of the raise of her shoulder, and her breath left her lungs in a surprised gasp.

"You are finally mine," his voice was like a brush to her soul, and she was tempted, for a moment, to lose herself in his brilliant eyes. But something at the back of her mind fought viciously for her to stay awake, her instincts screaming at her to get away from that man. Fear danced in Sakura's stomach as she turned her head to stare up at the stranger that seemed terribly familiar. It was the biggest mistake of her life, and she felt herself melting, her mind drawing to a complete blank as she lost the last strands of her self-restraint. Her chest rose and fell, grazing his as he tugged her flush against him in a sturdy pull.

"Why do you not accept my offer? Is this not what you wanted?" he whispered softly, one hand trailing down her back in an almost loving touch and the other twisting itself languidly in her thick cherry-pink locks. Sakura suppressed a shuddering breath at the crawling heat creeping its way into her cheek, the feeling of his fingertips tracing patterns across her bare skin, her cheek flushed with the simple actions of his hands. She resisted the urge to turn, but Itachi only purred in response, slipping his fingers from her wrist down to her elbow, before leaving her arm entirely and gliding towards her covered hip.

"I can give you anything you want," he murmured enticingly, before dipping his head to nip at the slightly sensitive spot behind her ear. A soft sound akin to a moan escaped the careful confines of her throat, and Itachi smirked, ruby eyes glittering smugly in the dull lighting.

"Anything," He dragged the word out until it was as soft as a down feather, smiling to himself as his voice caused the desired reaction out of his possession. She shuddered in his embrace, knees buckling below her and causing her to push all her weight into the man behind her. The thick lashes rimming her eyes fluttered close as she felt his lips slip down her throat to press at the base of her neck, on her racing pulse. But her eyes snapped open as she fought to pull herself together, struggling to grasp the last of her sanity.

"No," she said, and the man behind her tensed for a fraction of a second before continuing his exploration of his servant's flesh. She tasted sweet, like apples. "What do you want?" he asked softly, deliberately lowering his voice. It was a sound he knew enticed the mortals, leaving them falling willingly into his open arms. But Sakura was resolute, fighting the urge to give into the relaxing state of pleasure that Itachi was now serving her on an open platter. But she had learned a long time ago that the apple that tempts could also condemn.

"I don't even know who you are!" This much she got out before a soft groan replaced whatever she was about to say, and she unconsciously arched her back when he grazed his fingers lightly over her toned stomach. The hysteria that had risen at his comment settled as his body lulled hers into a trance, and the familiarity of his hands moving across her body surprised her. It was like she had done the same thing eons ago…

"Really?" his hands fluttered up, then down, then up again, stopping just below her chest before retreating back to her navel. Sakura couldn't see his eyes, but she knew they were burning.

"Then I will make you remember."

iii. The apple.

When she woke up, she was alone in the master bedroom, crimson sheets twisting around her legs and enveloping her like a lover's caress. The blinds were partially open, sunlight streaming brightly onto Sakura's face as she shifted from the glare. Groaning, she moved to turn herself from the light before she felt her face connect with the feather pillow that smelled of pine, the rain, and something more. It smelled of Itachi. When she sniffed closely Sakura could still sense the slight odor of burning wood, like a forest after a fire that was often masked by the more pleasant aromas on the man. But today it was more pronounced than usual, and Sakura frowned in incomprehension. She also usually didn't wake up alone; Itachi was always around, curled around her like a kitten basking under sunlight or running his hands idly through her thick hair, carefully brushing the strands out just to ruin his work with another romp in the sheets. She shifted once more in the semi-darkness, marveling at the way the silk rubbed against the skin of her arms, and mulling over her current predicament with practiced calm.

Itachi felt familiar, and Sakura was sure she had never seen him in her entire life before he had saved her from the thug. The way he carefully tended to her left her feeling overwhelmed and tight in the chest, but it was impossible for her to shake off the feeling that she had somehow came across him in her life, and it was either that she could not remember or that it was all just a fragment of her imagination. But the pull of his mouth on her skin, his fangs, and even his affinity to her blood hadn't surprised him, and whenever she would scratch herself accidentally he would have the honor of licking her wound clean. And she could tell by the way his eyes glinted whenever he saw her blood that he loved it.

Then there was the problem of love.

The man was an enigma; but the attachment that had immediately sprung from her part was unconstitutional, completely irrational for her to develop for a stranger in such a short time. She had barely known him for more than a month and it already felt like years, like a musty chest unearthed from a corner of a cellar and only to be opened decades later, the items inside preserved to perfection. And her feelings were like those. Preserved. It was almost surreal, how Itachi enjoyed to simply hold her whenever he had time and she would let him. It scared her witless, sometimes.

Sighing, Sakura sat up from the pool of sheets swamped around her body and pulled them to her chest, slipping her legs off the side of the bed and stood up. Was this only a fleeting attention? Something inside her told her that it was more than that, much more than she would ever comprehend – but it bound her to him in a way that she had never known. It chilled her heart yet warmed it at the same time; His voice left her cold yet ablaze and she didn't know if it scared her more that she was slowly attached or the way he enjoyed smothering her with gentle attention. It was leaving her breathless, and still the ghosts of memories, of once weres, flitted in her head whenever he would trace the veins on her wrist, as if to hear her heartbeat, healthy and strong against his ears.

And she knew, by the way she broke and mended yet broke again, that she loved him.

So when he knelt before her the next day and asked for her hand, she did not hesitate. The smile that spread across his face was heartbreakingly beautiful, as he swept her into his arms and kissed her full on the lips.

"And till death," he chuckled quietly before leaning down to capture her lips once more.

"Do we part."

iv. The fall from grace

"Are you ready?" his breath ghosted over her jugular, and her blood hummed erratically under her pale skin. It was cold; Sakura didn't move, her hands hovering dangerously close to his fangs, tracing the stubborn set of his jaw. He turned his head slightly to catch her wandering fingers slowly, sensuously, with his lips.

"Yes," she replied. Her voice didn't waver, and his crimson eyes traced slowly across her features, searching for the tiniest bit of doubt before his lips stretched into a handsome smirk. His teeth shone duly in the moon as he swept down to place a searing kiss on her temple, slowly making his way down until his lips, curled into a smirk, captured her lips in a languid lock. His scarlet eyes glittered darkly in the moonlight.

"Good," he purred, "because I do not intend on ever letting you go."

"Guess now who holds thee?"—"Death," I said. But there
The silver answer rang—"Not Death, but Love."

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Comments appreciated! :)