Trinity

A/N: Yes, yes. I'm still alive. Work is kicking my butt, so this is taking forever. Please, enjoy...I think it's going to be slightly longer than originally anticipated. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. We get to see some more of the gods, other than Tokotachi. And there is a revelation, of sorts. Read on.

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Chapter 4: Waking Storm

“But mama…why can I not stay?” Too-large green eyes peered up through a veil of tears. The tall woman sighed. Her mother. She was a gentle woman, with grace and poise, but she always seemed sad to Sakura.

Gentle hands smoothed the unruly pink bangs on Sakura’s forehead. “Because, little one, our lady has asked that you serve her son.” Her smile looked a little like she was trying very hard not to cry. “You must remember, my darling. It is a great honor to serve a kind master. And I have seen the boy. He is a worthy young man. If you are good to him, he will protect you.” Sakura nodded slowly, still clutching at the raw silk of the midnight blue obi that Haruno Ama wore. When her mother pulled her hands away, Sakura tried her best to dry her tears.

“Yes, mama.” Try as she might, it was so very difficult not to pout. There was a knock at the door of their little cottage, and her mother rose gracefully. Sakura kept her eyes on the floor as she heard feet shuffling. The door opened a moment later, and her mother’s voice welcomed the new arrivals.

“Please come in,” the woman said gently, and no doubt bowed where she knelt next to the door.

“Haruno-san,” A deep, masculine voice said, “If we may take the girl with us—“

“Ebisu,” a slow, youthful voice cut off the man who had been speaking, and continued, “wait outside. Naruto and I will speak with them.” After a short silence, Sakura heard the man step back out of the door. Light footsteps sounded over the tatami mats, and she saw two small pairs of feet standing in front of her. One was pale, and stood below the hem of a very dark blue kimono, while the other was sun-darkened, and the owner of those feet soon plopped down to the floor unceremoniously, bending his neck to look into her eyes.

Sakura found herself to be staring into eyes so blue it nearly hurt to look at them. The boy had bright yellow hair. This startled her, and she gasped, trying to back away. The boy smiled brilliantly, scooting forward and making a little bow. “Hello,” he chirped, “My name is Uzumaki Naruto. What is your name?” This was the first time that anyone had properly introduced themselves to her, and she was still in shock from it. Her face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet.

“Naruto, please. You will frighten her.” The other boy’s voice was calm, reassuring. He knelt before her, and she chanced a glance at him. His face was pale, like his feet, and his features finely placed. Sakura blinked slowly, trying to take it all in. He was beautiful, in a calm, understated way. Then she looked back to the yellow-haired boy. She remembered seeing him before, in the street. He was much different now. “Sakura,” Her attention was drawn back to the pale boy with dark hair, “your mother has given her permission for you to come and live with us. Would you like that?”

Looking from the serene features of the boy before her to the genuine, almost infectious smile of the other, Sakura calmed her mind. It may not be so very bad after all, leaving home. Not if she could have these boys as masters. Looking at the floor again, she nodded, “Yes, sir.”

Five minutes later, the yellow-haired Naruto had taken the bundle that held all of her possessions and slung it over his back. He and Uchiha Sasuke—for he had revealed himself to be precisely that—were standing off to one side as Sakura stood before her mother, who had knelt. “Be a good girl, Sakura.”

“Yes, mama.” In a burst of movement, the girl flung her arms around her mother, kissing her cheek. When she pulled away, there was a startled look on the woman’s face, and a light sheen of tears trying to escape and flow down her porcelain cheeks. After a short moment, Sakura composed herself, smoothing the sleeves of her pink kimono. “Do not worry, mama. I will make you and papa proud...you will see.”

The daydream dispelled, Sakura blinked, trying to remember what had brought it on. Her success was minimal, and in the end, she gave up. Now, she sat quietly in the corner as Sasuke-dono frowned at the man across the black lacquered table from him. Naruto, seated to Sasuke’s left, and behind, watched the exchange keenly.

“My apologies, Hyuuga-san, but I believe that you are mistaken.” Sakura heard her master speak, but she was unsure to what this statement pertained. Sasuke-dono’s brow had begun to furrow, and he held himself rigidly. He was becoming angry.

The smooth, deep tones of Hyuuga Neji’s voice filled the space only seconds later. “But…I beg that you reconsider my offer, Uchiha-san. It is generous. And I am quite certain of my observations. I have never been wrong before.” Sakura schooled her face to calm serenity, hiding well the confusion that she felt. She glanced at Naruto again, and saw on his face what appeared to be open hostility. Cursing herself silently, she wondered what she had missed. All she knew was that she was supposed to take away the teacups and tray when they were finished, but she had not seen either man drink.

Slowly, Sasuke-dono lowered his hands from where they rested in his lap to let the tips of his fingers brush over the cushion on which he sat. It was a gesture she knew well. He was trying not to reach for the sword that lay nearby. Perhaps he was a bit more agitated than she had originally observed…

However tense he may feel, Uchiha Sasuke lived up to his family name. He remained outwardly unruffled, even to the point of seeming emotionless. His reply was frosty. “I have considered your offer as much as I will ever consider it, and my answer remains the same. You will not have her.” Now, Sakura blinked. Were they discussing her? What about her? He would not ‘have’ her…what did that mean?

Neji’s back stiffened slightly. In a tone that seemed equally acidic, he answered, “It was my understanding that Haruno-san was your servant, Uchiha-san…not your property. Perhaps it would be best if we were to ask her opinion on the situation?” Neji’s back was still toward her, but Sakura could feel him wanting to turn her way. What on earth were they talking about? Sasuke-dono’s mouth turned down further as the two men continued staring at one another over cold tea.

Naruto now appeared to be absolutely livid. He shook where he sat, his hand hovering over his katana. The tension in the room was absolutely tangible, as if Sakura could reach out and take hold of the thick threads of it that tied them all together. Finally, after several moments, Sasuke’s voice cut through the silence. “Fine. Ask her and be done with it. Though, I am certain of what her answer will be.” He sounded as if he were very sure of himself.

Then, she saw Neji’s body turn toward her as he got to his feet. Sakura watched him with practiced calm, though she expended a great amount of effort to keep the surprise from her face when he knelt before her. “Sakura,” he began, and her eyes widened at his use of her name alone, “I have asked your master to release you. Would you come back to Kyoto with me?” Her mouth opened, yet no sound came. He scooted closer. “My intentions are innocent, Sakura. I would have you come with me as my wife—“

From the other corner, she heard the rustle of fabric, and then the gentle voice of her master. “Resume your former position, Naruto-kun.”

After a short pause, she heard, “Yes, Sasuke-dono.” Naruto’s voice sounded sullen.

Neji was watching her face. “What is your answer, Sakura?”

Now, Sakura knew that there was a great chance that her next words could result in bloodshed. Sasuke-dono was nearly murderous at the moment, and Naruto had only stayed his hand on the word of his master. This did not bode well. On the other hand, how did she know how Neji would react? Her answer, she knew, could only be phrased in one way. “Thank you, Neji-san, for your offer. You flatter me more than I can say. But I cannot leave my master.”

A hurt look entered the purple-white of Neji’s eyes. “You would stay…and remain a servant? The daughter of a noble samurai, with beauty that rivals the sun, fetching and carrying for a man unworthy to touch the hem of her kimono? I could not bear it. You must consider, Sakura. I offer you a life that will set you above this existence of mere servitude. Would you really stay here?” This surprised her. It appeared that Neji’s estimation of her was grossly exaggerated. He seemed nothing more than a love-struck boy…but there was something…yes, something deeply buried. It was well disguised, but she saw it. The man sitting before her was not Hyuuga Neji. It was Haku.

She allowed herself to smile. In a voice that was barely a whisper, she asked, “Did he send you to test me, as well?”

The grin that came over the man’s features was positively naughty. “No, Sakura. I am here…of my own will. Did I not say I would come to you again?”

Nodding, she asked, “But are you certain that you are only temptation? You seem to be mischief, as well.”

This seemed to amuse Haku. In Neji’s voice, he answered, “No…I am only temptation. Though I will feel my master’s wrath for making the attempt, I felt that I must. After all, I am not truly flesh. It would not be against my master’s order if you were to lie with me…would it?” At that, he drew even closer. “My powers are such that these here with us would not disturb us, Sakura. I can bewitch them…they will not see. I could do any number of things that would allow for our unencumbered pleasure…”

Haku’s left hand moved slightly, and Sakura blinked as she looked over his shoulder. Both Sasuke and Naruto were motionless, not even breathing. Naruto’s eyes were fixed on them, his mouth open as if he were about to speak, and Sasuke had been turning his head, his hair fluttering, suspended in the air as if he had been frozen. “What did you do to them?” She asked, panicked.

The demi-god leaned close, his breath whispering over Sakura’s cheeks. “I merely suspended time around them. They shall come to no harm.” Sakura blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze that was threatening to engulf her mind, simply from the proximity of a creature that embodied lust and temptation. As his face drew closer, she leaned away.

“Let them go,” Sakura said, her voice faltering slightly.

“Come now…” Haku’s voice took on a throaty, almost dangerous tone, “…you should stop resisting what your body desires, Sakura.”

She leaned back further, away from lips that she knew would rob her of any sense she had left, until her body fell backward. Landing with a thump on her backside, her legs sprawled before her, Sakura’s eyes widened when Haku crawled over her body, trapping her beneath him. The heat of him was overwhelming as his weight settled onto her, and she could feel his hardness against her stomach, as well as his dark hair brushing her cheeks.

Neji’s appearance faded, once again, and Haku’s beautiful features twisted into a wicked grin. Sakura stammered, “I…I..” She could feel a hand slipping between the folds of her kimono, worming its way inside, and inching up her leg. “Please…” she whimpered, the sensation of liquid fire pulsing through her from where Haku’s fingers touched her.

There was little she could do. Sakura wondered vaguely if this was the way it was supposed to be. Was it supposed to feel like she was doing something that wasn’t quite of her own free will? For some reason, she doubted that. Closing her eyes, she willed the situation to be different. For something, anything to stop this. Haku’s mouth found her neck, his tongue laving at the large tendon there, which was apparently very sensitive. “Please what?” he asked teasingly, teeth nipping.

“Please, get your hands off of Sakura, sir, before I get it into my head to cut them off…” A low, threatening voice said…Naruto! How had he been freed? Sakura’s eyes flew open, the spell now broken. She saw Naruto looming over them, his sword drawn and only a hair’s breadth away from Haku’s cheek. The demi-god stood slowly from the floor, dusting off the front of his gray hakama. He smirked when Naruto’s eyes widened at his altered appearance. But then, the blonde man’s blue eyes narrowed to thin slits, and he growled, “Who are you, and what do you want?”

Sasuke-dono had just risen from his cushion, and came to stand before Haku. “Put your sword away, Naruto-kun. I believe that I will deal with this…thing.” He eyed the long-haired man suspiciously. “You mischievous spirit…who has sent you to tempt Sakura? I am sworn to protect her, and no man will touch her.”

Haku’s laughter rang through the room, and Sakura blinked, unsure of how the situation was at all funny. “I was not sent.” His smile was sweet as he approached Sakura’s master. “I merely wanted something for my own, fleeting as it might be. And she is so very beautiful that I could not restrain myself.” His smoky eyes fixed on Sasuke’s, he smiled. “Surely…you can understand that.” Sasuke’s face colored, and he looked away. Sakura, who had been sprawled out on the floor, rose quickly, straightening the folds of her kimono.

“Haku, leave him be.” Sakura’s voice was stern, and she raised one eyebrow at him threateningly. “Your tricks are not welcome.” The demi-god drew away, his eyes finding the floor very interesting. It was strange to see the light blush of embarrassment cross his face; Sakura had thought him completely shameless. Also odd was the fact that so little was needed to check his behavior. This was something that she resolved to think on later. Taking a deep breath, she began to explain who Haku was, and what he had done since he appeared. This was not to say, however, that Sasuke was in any way reassured by such a narrative. On the contrary, he became incensed, and Naruto held him back from attacking Haku, who merely stood passively staring at her master. Sakura’s gaze hardened now as she looked on Haku, “But he is not going to do anything of the sort again. Are you, Haku?”

When he looked up at Sakura, he seemed to be hovering partway between anger and sadness. “I will miss you,” he said quietly, and reached up to touch her face, “even when you are close to me again.” This statement confused Sakura, and she opened her mouth to speak, and ask what it was he meant. But he was already turning toward Sasuke and Naruto. “Please excuse my behavior, young masters.” With that, he vanished. The spot where he had been standing was now filled with chill, and a very little vapor, as if snow had been there.

Naruto rushed forward, putting his arms around Sakura and holding her close. “I am sorry, Sakura-chan…I could not protect you,” his voice sounded absolutely miserable, and though she was not certain, it did seem as if he were about to cry. She patted at his chest, trying to reassure him that she was indeed all right, though just as she always had, Sakura found his touch to be comforting. There were few times that she felt as safe as when Naruto held her.

“Sakura,” Sasuke-dono’s deep voice said from over Naruto’s shoulder, “are you certain that you are well?”

Nodding, Sakura gently extricated herself from Naruto’s arms. “I am, Sasuke-dono. But I have not told you everything.” Dark eyes widened, and she gestured toward the door. “Please, let me get tea, and we will talk.”

--

The door slid open, admitting a man with dark hair, and a scar across the bridge of his nose. He scratched at the pale strip of skin; a nervous habit developed when he was a boy. Within the room, there was a low mound of cushions, on which reclined a striking figure. Iruka, weapon smith to the Uchiha clan, had always found the younger man to be somewhat strange, and highly intimidating. Though only two years his junior, Uchiha Itachi seemed to be much older. There was an air of age that radiated from his deep red eyes, as though he knew things he should not.

At the moment, the heir to the family was slightly paler than he usually was. His kimono, dark blue today, made him seem almost ghostly. Rather than his usual topknot, he had allowed his hair to spill over his shoulders and down his back. His eyes were closed as he greeted Iruka. “Ah. So you received my summons?”

Bowing deeply, Iruka replied, “Yes, young master. What is it you wish of me?” When he straightened, he knelt near the open door. The young man shifted slightly on his cushions, wincing as he did so. This caused speculations to fly around the weapon smith’s mind, but none were voiced. Perhaps his brother had finally taught him a lesson? Though Iruka would welcome such an event, he found it to be highly unlikely. Sasuke was still afraid of his elder sibling, though for what reason, he never knew.

Unsettling blood-colored eyes opened and peered at him through dark lashes, and Iruka fought to remain still, and not to look away. A smile appeared on Itachi’s lips, and Iruka had to wonder if he understood how much he was feared. Somehow, he thought that the heir to the clan was well aware of the awe and terror he inspired. For a long moment, Iruka held that red gaze, unflinching, unmoving, not even daring to breathe. But then, Itachi’s smile widened, and he could not bear to look. It was that look of mirth that Iruka feared. Itachi’s smile never boded well for anyone, and it did little good to Iruka’s state of mind for that expression to be directed at him.

“What I would wish,” he mused, as if to himself, “would be that you forge a pair of swords. Equal in all respects, perfect in construction. Beauty and death, intertwined in harmony, Iruka. Can you do this?” Itachi’s voice had become a hypnotic drone, floating through the air and drawing Iruka’s eyes back to where he still lay. The younger man’s crimson eyes stared into him, as if they weighed him, summing him up. Was this some kind of test?

Iruka knew his craft, and was certain that given enough time and meditation, he could carry out the task set before him. So, he nodded respectfully, and replied, “Yes, Itachi-sama, I believe that I can do as you say.”

Itachi’s eyes seemed to soften, then, and after a moment, he even looked human. But that instance of normality passed quickly, and Iruka found himself looking into pools of blood-soaked steel. “You must not reveal this to anyone. Give me your word, Iruka.” As he said this, he poured a single cup of sake, and took a small sip from within before placing it on the floor in front of him.

Something was not right with this situation, though Iruka could not understand what it was. Why should he keep to himself what he was doing? Every sword smith since time immemorial had striven to create the perfect blade…the sword that could slash Heaven. It was no secret that each man aimed for this goal. If he were to create such a thing, why on earth would he remain silent on the subject? Surely Fugaku-dono would wish to be informed. It would raise the prestige of the clan if he were able to do so.

But, he thought, Itachi is the heir. He would, one day, be the head of the clan. If he were to do this thing for the heir, then it would be for the clan. His work would be known one day. His mind now made up, Iruka shuffled forward on his knees until he was within reach of the cup. Still unwilling to reach for it, he took a deep breath, glancing through his eyelashes at the younger man. The short attempt to gauge his master’s eldest son was utterly fruitless. I know that I am going to regret this, Iruka thought as he took the cup, and drained it. But regret or no, it was done and he could only pray to Amatsu Mara, great god of the smithy, that he complete his task as ordered.

--

A great clap of thunder rang out, rattling the vapors and crystals that formed the walls and floors of her glowing palace, and Amaterasu, sun goddess, cracked an eyelid. Something had disturbed her rest. “Taka Hi Kone(1)…” she murmured as both of her golden eyes fluttered open. No sooner had the name been breathed, but the god of thunder was kneeling at her bedside.

His proud figure bent low, dark, wild hair hanging into his swarthy face. “Great Mother…” his voice was reverent as he spoke, words directed at the pale green mossy carpet. “What is required of me?”

Rising into a seated position, the goddess tossed her head, allowing her many-colored hair to move away from her eyes. “Rise, thunder-maker.” As he did so, she admired for what must be the hundredth time the grace he possessed. He cast his eyes over her shoulder, fearful of catching her gaze directly. Though a smile rose on her shapely lips, she could not help but long for the days before, when she spent much time on the earth. It had been long since she had been able to do so. A thread of sadness passed through her, causing her dawn-colored hair to tinge slightly more purple than before. “What was the sound that shook me from my sleep, little Taka?”

A ruddy blush rose up in his cheeks, and he looked away, finding the wall to his left. “Goddess…it was not I.”

One pale pink brow rose, showing her disbelief. Amaterasu laughed lightly, “But if that is true, my dear lord of storms, who has gotten hold of your spear and shield? Has my Baku (2) been up to mischief again?” Her mirth died quickly at the utter mortification that filled the thunder god’s eyes. Suddenly wary, Amaterasu stood, and drew herself up to her full height. Clapping, she called for her maids. “Get about your work quickly,” the sun goddess said, a furrow marring the porcelain skin of her brow and ill omen dulling her internal light. Purple began to bleed into a dull reddish maroon that resembled sunset in her hair, indicating her displeasure. “It seems that there must be some storm brewing from quarters unexpected…and the heat of the sun may be needed to burn away such rain.”

A flick of her wrist dismissed Taka Hi Kone, and the young spirit-women rushed forward, dressing her and braiding her hair before adorning her with all of her ornaments, and the circlet of gold that rested atop her head, its glittering green jewel glinting in the light of the walls.

--

Haku remained motionless, his forehead resting on the bronze floor where he bent double before his master. Tokotachi-dono raged on, decrying his actions just as he knew the god would. “And had the boy been unable to break through your spell? What then, you mischievous spirit?” The pause that followed this question did not mean that he was supposed to answer. He simply held his pitiful position, silent, and allowed Tokotachi-dono to supply the obvious answer to his own inquiry. “I am certain that you know as well as I do how angry Lord Bishamon (3) would be.”

Indeed, it was easy to imagine how enraged the god of war would be at the defilement of his daughter(4) before she could be wed. But he thought that whatever punishment he might have faced would have been worth it. Now, however, he had to wonder. Bishamon and Amaterasu sent their daughter to live on earth for so long, under the care of humans, and Sakura was a servant! His horror at her wish to remain as a maid had been real. Why would she wish to stay; fetch and carry for others when she should have servants of her own?

“Have you heard anything I have said, Haku?”

Flinching guiltily, Haku raised his head, only to stare up into dark eyes like smoldering coals. “Tokotachi-dono, please…” he murmured, “…you must understand. I…it has been long since I last knew love. She is beautiful, fierce and yet still delicate…” Haku’s voice faltered before becoming slightly heated, “Why can I not have some moment of happiness?” A spike of hot resentment for the heavenly being before him went through his body then, and he was unable to quell the raging emotions that had begun rising in him suddenly.

The god blinked in surprise at this show of anger before heaving a sigh. Beckoning to the demi-god, he allowed Haku to approach his couch. When the dark-eyed spirit knelt at his left knee, long fingers threaded through his dark hair in a soothing gesture. “I understand, as you have yet to realize, the extent of your misfortune, Haku.” This statement puzzled the kneeling spirit. “From the beginning of time, I have been here. Love eludes me, even now. Many times, it seemed near, within my reach. But in the end, it was no more than bodily pleasure, desire. You and your sisters are proof enough of that, my dear Haku.”

His eyes closed, not wishing to look at the sadness that had entered his master’s eyes. Not often did either of them mention the woman that had birthed him. Tokotachi’s voice softened further when his arms encircled Haku’s shoulders. Tears stung the backs of his eyelids, and he had to try hard not to let them flow. Such a fatherly embrace was rare, and Haku let the moment flow over him. “You look much like your mother,” he heard his master, his father, whisper. “A delicate snowdrop, petals softer than a morning breeze…” For a long moment, they remained as they were, until Haku felt his father release him. “You will remain with me,” Tokotachi’s voice had gone back to its usual tone of command, and a little more of Haku’s heart froze.

“Yes,” he said quietly, nodding in agreement. It was all he could do.

--

The night air smelled clean as he stood on the hill. Being a clear evening, his eye could easily catch the movements within the house below, and a smile pulled at his mouth. This place felt heavy, power thick in the air. There were others like himself here; he could smell them. Scents both familiar and foreign assaulted him, threatening to draw him forward.

“Not yet,” he mused, seating himself on the grass. Pressing his hands into the ground, he felt the earth welcome him. As he adjusted his dark robes, he lay down the staff he carried. Golden rings tinkled like bells, and he smiled again. “No, father. There is still time before the storm.” His open eye looked to the stars. They were not right just yet. “Lend me your strength, father. I will do my best, to help them.”

The stars never answered. His father rarely spoke to him, though it was certain that each time he asked, his questions were heard. Wisdom came, he knew, from devising one’s own answers. That was one of the first lessons his father had taught him long ago. A faint pulse in one of the northernmost stars was the most reply he could hope for, and he bowed his head, thankful for that little gesture from the heavens. It was close now. There were many lines of fate all meeting here, like strands from the silkworm, tangled in a cocoon. Skilled fingers were needed to unravel them without ripping the threads.

Thoughts of the coming trials were interrupted shortly when an intoxicating scent drifted up to him on the faint breeze. It was like memory just beyond his fingertips, the words he could never think of. Tantalizing and poignant, it was lavender and honey, or ginger and lemons, or any combination of pleasant perfumes, but he could not identify what it was. Whatever that perfume might be, it was overshadowed by the natural scent of the bearer, whoever she was. His eye closed so that all of his mind could focus upon her; strength, warmth, innocence, vulnerability and sensuality, it overwhelmed his senses.

The image of her began to form in his mind, and his lips stretched into a slow smile. Skin like fine porcelain, long, graceful legs, hands that could soothe or kill with equal ease…lips like rose petals, and eyes…

Surprise shot through him as he realized whom this woman was. Her eyes were the color of new spring leaves, just like…him. Had his time come so quickly? He supposed that the gods had their motives for sending him where they did, and this was most likely the ultimate reason for it all. It was not quite resignation that settled over him, but a feeling of…comfort. His father had told him of this woman long ago. She was like him, in a way, but also very different.

Settling once more in his seated position, slumping slightly and allowing himself to imagine the texture of her skin against his, he sighed. All that had been promised would come to pass. “Soon,” he whispered, “I will be with you…soon.”

--

1) Taka Hi Kone—my shortened form of the Shinto thunder god’s name: Aji Suki Taka Hi Kone.
2) Baku—a beast that eats dreams. Here, a trickster.
3) Bishamon—the Shinto god of war, justice, and protector of the law.
4) Bishamon’s daughter—just as a clarification, Sakura is the daughter of Bishamon, god of war, and Amaterasu, the sun goddess.