Pretty Dead Things

A/N: Yes, yes. I know it has been forever and a day. But the reason for that is because it is extremely difficult to write three concurrent lemon scenes, and the point of view of the observers. That, dears, is in the next chapter. This one is the lead in, and the planning stages of a rescue/escape operation. It's not terribly exciting, but you get some nice imagery to whet your appetite.

Warnings:

FL--Foul Language

Chapter 6: Fury and Fashion

Sabaku no Gaara sat on the edge of a rooftop. The wind was warm, even at this time of early morning. It seemed never to abate, this heat. As he looked over the eastern expanse of desert, his keen eyes watched for the sun to peek up over the horizon. Only half an hour earlier, he had glimpsed the first evidence of day. Now, the gray of pre-dawn was giving way to a pinkish tinge. This was the time of day he liked best. After a few hours of sleep, Gaara had risen, refreshed and ready to begin another of his twenty-hour days. As he ate a little of the rice he’d found in the kitchen, he would watch the sun rise.

Today was little different from the days previous. The smell of sand was the same, as was the way the first orange-pink rays of the sun snuck up over the desert, creeping and sending shadows running for their daytime hiding places. What was different was that little speck of black, about three kilometers away, which he had been unable to see in the grayish gloom. Gaara’s eyes narrowed. There were no couriers due back today, and any messages from other villages were delivered faster by bird.

Leaving his breakfast half eaten, he pushed off of the side of the building, landing three floors down in a crouch. He stopped briefly to let one of the eastern sentries know that he was exiting the village, and needed no escort. Temari would be angry, but he had a bad feeling about this, so it needed to be attended to immediately. Gaara put on as much speed as he safely could, and found his feet touching open sand in less than five minutes.

The dunes rose and fell, like waves in a sea of sand. They always did, however, and though some found it disorienting, he had always thought the rise and fall of the sand was soothing. When he approached the broad sand flat where he’d seen the black speck, he suddenly stopped. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? It looked as if there was a woman staggering through the sand. Wary of what might be a trap, Gaara made his way over to the woman.

Her black eyes blinked rapidly at him as he approached, and she shook her head as if trying to clear a mirage. “Kazekage-sama?”

It was only when she addressed him that he realized who she was. This young woman was one of the Chuunin that had been captured by Orochimaru’s people a few months earlier. Her blonde friend had been killed in the ambush, but she herself had been taken. He nodded. “Yes.”

The woman began to cry, and fell to her knees. “Kazekage-sama…you must stop them.”

Gaara’s eyes widened slightly. “Stop who?” Though he was decently sure that she was talking about Orochimaru and Uchiha Sasuke, there might be someone else of whom he was unaware. He got no real useful information from her, other than that the Snake Sannin had captured numerous shinobi and placed them in confinement with suppressed chakra. She did not go into detail about why they were kept, but he could imagine, from rumors that floated west. He gave another nod, and slung her onto his back without further discussion. She needed medical attention.

--

Hatake Kakashi had always been a light sleeper. It caused him to have bags under his eyes on most days, lately, since he’d become even more wary. Though he had tried, the former ANBU member could find no trace of Naruto. Genma had begun his own search, since one of his friends had also gone missing. Iruka had gone off in a strange fit of insubordination, swearing horribly, and vowing that he would bring Naruto back himself. He’d also insulted Kakashi’s skills, intelligence, and at one point, his parentage. While he’d been annoyed, Kakashi did not hold it against the younger man. He was well aware of how much Iruka cared for Naruto.

Naruto and Iruka, however, had only been the tip of the iceberg. Ninjas from other hidden villages had been going missing, as well. One of the younger kunoichi from the Kirigakure had vanished from a campsite, and Suna had taken losses as well. It was enough to make him even more paranoid than he had been before. Perhaps that was why he sat bolt upright in bed at the slightest sounds, only to find leaves tapping at his window, or a cockroach scuttling across the floor. But when he heard a slight rasping from not far away, and something weigh down the edge of his bed, he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

Both eyes flew open, and he tilted his head slightly. Slithering across his shiruken-print coverlet was a large green vine-snake. The emerald-colored creature began swaying as it reared up. Kakashi’s eyes squinted. “Are you smart enough to talk?” He asked tersely, not expecting a reply.

The animal’s eyes took on a malevolent gleam for a moment before it replied in its breathy, hissing voice, “Watch yourssssssssself, ssssssssssssshinobi. I might get hungry.” Its tongue flicked out, tasting the air.

“What do you want?” he asked by way of reply.

Baring short fangs in a toothy grin, it answered, “To deliver a messsssssssssage. My masssssssssster knowsssssssssss where your ssssssssssssstudent isssssssss.” Kakashi blinked in disbelief, and the animal continued, “The loud one with the yellow hair isssssssssss in the cage-room. Orochimaru keepssssssssssssss him. My massssssssster will sssssssssssset him free.”

“Who is—“

“Ssssssssssilence! My time isssss ssssssssshort. Tomorrow night, jussssssst after sssssssssunssssssssssset, a feassssssst will be met in the great hall. Ssssssssome of the prissssssonerssssssssss will be usssssssed. Massssssster needssssssss your help. The pale-eyed sssssssssssandman brings assssssssisssstance, asssssss well. Tell the sssssssssslug-hag. Her people are relatively unharmed, but they will not remain ssssssssso for long.” The thing then began coughing violently, and spit out a large-ish yellow sphere. It shook itself for a moment before fixing him with a determined stare. “Uchiha-dono expectssssssssss you at ssssssssssssunsssssssssssset, dog-man. Do not disssssssssssssappoint him.”

With that, the beast vanished into a cloud of vaguely violet steam. Instantly, his eyes turned to the sphere, still coated with snake spit, lying on his bed. It was just larger than the size of a tennis-ball. When he picked it up, it disintegrated into dust, leaving only several folded sheets of parchment between his fingers. He opened the packet, and began to read.

Hatake Kakashi,

Greetings, sensei. I hope this letter finds you well. That being said, let me also say that I offer no apologies, but a gift, instead. At sunset, tomorrow, I offer you the chance to kill Yakushi Kabuto. He, along with Orochimaru, will be in the great hall of Otogakure, with many foreign dignitaries. They plan to exhibit Orochimaru’s power by several extremely filthy sexual displays, and while it is not the ideal opportunity, it is the only time at which I thought a decent attempt at a coup would be possible.

I cannot do this alone, as much as I might wish to. Naruto will help me, and I have sent to the Kazekage, Gaara. His people are here, as well. Coordinate with the Hokage, and with Gaara, and do not get in my way when I kill Orochimaru, and we might all get out of this alive.

Included is a map of the compound, locations of guard stations, and a list of all sentry rotations for the event, beginning at dawn and ending at midnight. It is my intention to begin the operation near the end of the second watch.

Sincerely,

Uchiha Sasuke

P.S. Naruto is well. He cannot wait to be home.

Kakashi could not believe his eyes. Could this be true? If it were, they might possibly be able to be rid of one of the most dangerous criminals in the world, and get their people back at the same time. He threw back the covers and tore around his tiny apartment. In less than three minutes, he was dressed, had shoved the letter into his pocket, and was picking up his sandals on the way out of the door.

--

Naruto swallowed hard. This was embarrassing. He didn’t understand why, but it was. Sasuke had seen him naked already, so it was unclear just what about this situation actually caused his face to turn pink. “Just get in, Naruto. We don’t have time for this.” Eying the pool of steaming water, as well as the large cake of yellow soap, he wondered if there was something else going on here.

Twenty minutes earlier, Sasuke had showed up at his cell. He’d come dressed in a dark blue yukata, and carrying a large iron key. Chains had fallen to the floor, and he had stared in awe at the other boy. Sasuke had then explained that Naruto would be on ‘display’ later, and Orochimaru wanted him cleaned. Of course, as the only person in the entire place that was safe from the blonde boy’s wrath, Sasuke had been nominated to take him to the bath. It was not that Naruto was shy. Far from it, actually. But this was Sasuke. And those black eyes were watching him as he stood there shifting from one foot to the other, trying not to blush as much as he was.

He looked away from the far wall, where he’d been staring for the last few minutes. Sasuke was already seated in the hot, fragrant water. His hair was beginning to stick to the sides of his face, and Naruto thought he was beautiful with the steam rising around him. There was a bit of a flush on his face, and another traveled with languid slowness up the alabaster column of Sasuke’s throat. Swallowing again, and having no success at ridding himself of that stupid dryness in his mouth, Naruto simply shrugged and put one foot into the water.

It felt heavenly. Quickly, he sank into the pool completely. “Ahhh,” he sighed, feeling the constant movement of the water begin to wash away the filth of his imprisonment. After a moment, Naruto submerged himself, letting the water soak his lank, dirty hair. He surfaced nearly a full minute later, and blinked water from his eyes. Sasuke watched him closely, black eyes intense.

“There are shampoo and a comb over there,” the other boy said, nodding to the other end of the pool. Naruto glanced over to the opposite side of the room, and sure enough, there was a small table that held several bottles of colored, transparent liquid. When the blonde made no move toward the table, his companion’s voice became rather annoyed. “Hurry. There’s less than an hour until sundown. We have to get you cleaned and ready before then, or they’ll think something’s wrong.”

This galvanized Naruto into action, and he dove under the water, swimming as quickly as possible toward the other end of the large bath. He emerged in seconds. The shampoo smelled a little strange, like jasmine flowers that had been kept in a very hot room. Naruto was not about to complain, however, since it was a vast improvement over the way he had smelled before. Lathering his hair, he tried as best he could to get out the knots, though a couple of very stubborn ones had to be dealt with via the comb provided. A dab of creamy conditioner helped out, too, and soon, his hair was wonderfully clean.

“Ah,” he sighed as he settled down to soak for a few moments before he knew Sasuke would hustle him out of the bath, “you have no idea how good it feels to wash off the filth…” His eyes closed as he leaned back, floating idly until the water nearby moved. “Do we have to leave now? I know we’re in a hurry, but is it that much of a hurry?”

A strong hand gripped his ear and his eyes popped open when he felt himself being pulled. When Naruto was standing once again, Sasuke said in a very calm voice, “We can’t have you getting pruney. Orochimaru wants both of us looking our best for his guests, and for the time being, it would be good to humor him. Yes?” That voice in his ear was doing awful things to Naruto’s ability to stand. His knees tried to buckle, but he held on by the skin of his teeth to what little control he had. For a moment, he was sure that if Sasuke asked him to jump off of a thirty-story building, he’d do it. If Sasuke used that sultry, deviant, yet utterly commanding tone of voice, then yes. He would.

--

Iruka watched as a small woman bustled into his cell. She carried a garment bag, and her ginger-colored hair was pulled back from her face by a red ribbon. The woman fiddled with the zipper on the bag, trying to pull it down while also attempting not to drop her clip-board. Shoving a pair of bright green wire-rimmed glasses up her nose, this woman peered at the paper on the clipboard, and then said in a distracted voice, “Iruka, is it?”

When she looked up at him, he saw a pair of very dark brown eyes that made her appear to be altogether nervous to be anywhere near him. He nodded to her question. “I am Umino Iruka, yes.”

She seemed relieved, as her shoulders slumped and the nervousness ebbed a bit. “Oh, thank goodness. I don’t have a list of cell numbers, and…” After rambling on for another moment or so, she trailed off, then finally gathered herself. “Sorry about this, Iruka, but could you take off your clothes?”

Without really understanding why, Iruka instantly quipped, “But I don’t even know your name…”

The woman burst out into a rather undignified and highly unladylike bray of laughter that reminded Iruka quite painfully of Naruto. Her composure came back quickly, though. “Well, you’re a live one. Not that you really need to know, but my name is Kaira. I’ve been hired to suit all of the performers for this evening. To that end…” Kaira then tossed her clipboard onto his cot and unzipped the bag fully. From within, she drew a hanger, on which was draped a thin robe of bronze silk. Just shy of being transparent, the thing would insinuate at what lay beneath, but not show it. “Let’s get you into this. It will go beautifully with your skin.”

Iruka dutifully untied the knot that held his yukata closed, letting the obi fall to the floor before shrugging out of his one garment. This, he lay across his pillow. Kaira moved forward even before Iruka had straightened to his full height, and was instructing him to hold out his left arm. Silk, feather-light and whisper-thin, slid over his skin, and he heard her murmur her approval. It was a lovely color, he had to admit.

The robe, as it turned out, was a kimono. It was translucent, and Iruka was thankful for that, because he felt vulnerable enough already without transparent clothing. An obi of burnt orange and thread-of-gold was belted around his waist, and Kaira instructed him to turn around in a circle. When he had done so, the small woman’s bright hazel eyes were sparkling with pride. “Perfect,” she said as she smoothed the silk of his kimono, her hand resting on his arm. “It is nice to know that I have not completely lost my touch. Now, in about five or so minutes, someone will come by to make you look presentable.”

Just as quickly as she’d come, she vanished, leaving behind a very faint and indistinguishable perfume. Iruka merely stared after her.

--

Nara Shikamaru had just about had his fill of this. It had been nearly a week since the note had come. He could only assume that the others had received similar communications, since there was an almost unearthly hush over the place. The reek of desperation was not so strong now, having been replaced to some degree with the electric ozone scent of expectation. If this was real, if the Uchiha was not merely dredging up false hope, it would mean the defeat of a great enemy. But if this was only another mind game, then Shikamaru swore to himself that even if it was the last act he performed in this life, Uchiha Sasuke would die by his hand.

That being said, the lanky man that had invaded his cell was beginning to wear on his already thin nerves. The indignities had begun nearly an hour earlier, when a nervous little woman with green glasses barged in and shoved him into a dark green almost transparent kimono, belted in silvery gray. Then a woman had come to dust his face and chest with some strange, shimmering powder that made him sneeze. After that, she applied lip gloss. Now, as if those things had not been enough, the man now in his cell was using a styling iron on his hair. “Shikamaru-kun, please try to stand up straight…No, don’t frown, you get that awful crease between your eyebrows…If you push your hair behind your ears one more time…”

Akita, as he’d named himself, was currently standing behind him. He was fiddling with a cordless styling iron and occasionally spraying a citrus-scented hairspray. And he kept fussing. For the love of God…he thought, completely incapable of finishing even one thought as the man droned on. Finally, in a calm and very serious tone, Shikamaru said, “If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to show you why they say not to insert curling irons into any orifices.”

“Huh?”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that Akita wore a look of puzzlement. Apparently, this man was a rather dim bulb. To clarify, Shikamaru amended, “I’ll shove that thing up your ass if you don’t shut up, Akita-san.” Puzzlement turned to horror, and the man shut his mouth with a loud clicking sound. For the remainder of the time Akita was in his cell, the only noise to be heard was breathing and the slight creak of the styling iron.

--

Hinata shifted from foot to foot. She and Neji stood outside what they’d been told was the western door to the Great Hall. Things had been happening far too quickly, and now, here they were. In a few moments, the doors would open, and they were to proceed to the platform draped in pale purple and white silk. A very insistent woman had come into their cell and dressed them, a process that left Hinata rather dizzy. She was now cinched inside a white satin corset, which lay beneath a gown of palest lavender silk. Albino peacock feathers trailed behind her as she walked, and they’d woven more of them into her hair.

Once they were alone once again, Neji had told her that she looked beautiful. For her part, she thought that Neji looked just as stunning. They had dressed him in a simple white silk kimono, with an obi that was only a few shades darker than the gown Hinata wore. He was standing next to her now, tall and strong and so confident that Hinata could not help but draw a bit of strength from him. His fingers grazed hers, and for a moment, she felt a jolt of pleasure. No matter what happened behind those doors, Neji would be there with her…

--

Sasuke stood behind Naruto, running a soothing hand down his unclothed back. “Shhh,” he said, “Try to stay calm.”

As predicted, this only served to incite further protest. “How can I be calm?! How…now that I know what they’re going to make us—“ Sasuke gave a short tug on the bejeweled leash in his other hand, and Naruto’s words were cut off. He still wore a collar, as he had before, but this one was new, made of dark red leather, with a golden ring in it for attaching the leash. Opals and rubies were inlayed into the links of chain that was wrapped around Sasuke’s hand, creating a picture made all the more opulent when also taking in the state of Naruto’s dress.

It was not that he had any…aesthetic objection to what the blonde boy was wearing, per se. But even now, Sasuke knew how difficult it would be for him to remain calm. Naruto looked positively wild most times, and Orochimaru had ordered the designer to play to that image. He was clad in little more than a loincloth, really. A drape of fine black silk was tied shut by a braided red leather cord, and the entire thing barely reached the middle of Naruto’s thighs. How on earth was he expected to retain his composure when so much of Naruto was on display? Not to mention the way the makeup artist had used dark eye makeup to bring out the brightness of the blue in his friend’s eyes. The makeup had been applied in such a way that it gave his eyes a feral slant, lending him an air of danger, which was in addition to the sheer sexual energy that he unconsciously radiated. This would be much more difficult than he thought.

Crash!

The gong sounded, and there was a rush of warm air as the doors opened. Sasuke smoothed the front of his dark red kimono and leaned forward to whisper in Naruto’s ear. “Whatever happens…whatever I might do…just know that you are the most important thing to me. You are my soul, Naruto.”

He almost could not believe that he had just said that. But the way he looked at it, if things went wrong here, he might end up dead. Sasuke was going to try like hell to keep that from happening, but if he did come to the end of his days, he didn’t want to have the regret of things unsaid haunting him for all eternity.

Naruto looked back over his shoulder, and smiled sadly. “I know,” he replied, and turned around once again.

Before long, they were being ushered into the long, high-ceilinged room. There were several platforms, upon some of which stood other prisoners. Sasuke caught sight of Neji and Hinata, who sat on a low couch atop a lavender and white platform, as well as Iruka, who was sitting demurely next to Nara Shikamaru. There were others, of course, some of which he recognized, others he did not. One of the younger men seemed eerily familiar, though he could not place him. Wherever he might have seen the dark-haired youth, it did not matter.

Sasuke moved across the room, walking behind Naruto. Eyes from every direction watched their progress, which he believed was Naruto’s fault. The other boy’s movements had taken on a predatory aspect, as if they were watching a powerful wild cat pace back and forth in its cage, rather than a fifteen-year-old boy that was probably scared out of his wits. They reached a large platform, covered in black silk and dark red velvet, and climbed up. Sasuke sat in the gilded chair, and pulled at Naruto’s leash. Kneeling at Sasuke’s feet, he feigned laziness.

When all of the performers were in position, the doors closed. “Greetings!” came Orochimaru’s voice from the head table, which was not far off from where Sasuke and Naruto sat. “Greetings, and welcome! After dinner, we will retire to the conference hall to speak of more official matters. For now, eat, drink, and enjoy.” Music began, low and soothing, and it did not take long for the hum of conversation to begin.

Naruto leaned on Sasuke’s leg. “When is this show supposed to start?” he asked lowly, pretending to say something that must be sinful. Then again, Sasuke’s mind was starting to turn Naruto’s words into something completely unwholesome.

--

Iruka tried not to fidget. He knew very well what was expected of him. Shikamaru understood it, as well. The boy was stoic, silent. But, if they were going to have to…perform before the rescue operation made it in, they would have to figure out who was going to do what. “Shikamaru-kun,” he murmured to the boy that lounged nearby, “you know what’s supposed to happen, right?”

Nodding made the now-wavy hair fall into his face. Shikamaru said quietly, “You don’t have to do anything. I can just do all the work, if you like.”

Without thinking, Iruka replied, “That’s a change, coming from you.” Of course, Iruka had meant it as a playful dig at the young man’s laziness, but that’s not how the comment was taken.

Shikamaru’s right eyebrow rose in a sarcastic way. “Would you prefer to bend me over instead?” Iruka gave a start, blushing prettily. How crude! His companion chuckled. “Relax, Iruka. I won’t hurt you.” It was strange, this conversation. They shouldn’t be talking about this. It shouldn’t be happening.

“That’s not the point!” Iruka hissed. “I just…this is awkward for me.”

He almost jumped when something touched his hair, but relaxed quickly as he realized that Shikamaru was running his fingers through it. “Trust me,” he heard in his ear, “I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

Iruka set his jaw. In a tight whisper, he said, “Again…not the point. I just never thought I’d be in this situation with someone I’d seen cry because of a bruised knee.”

Warm breath tickled at his cheek. Shikamaru’s voice sounded mockingly officious as he replied, “Your concern is duly noted. Now…let’s concentrate on getting through this without being so awkward that it’s traumatizing for you. I think that this will go much smoother if you tell me a little about yourself.” Iruka stammered, his blush increasing, but the voice in his ear continued. “For instance, tell me where you like to be touched? Or maybe just where you like to touch others? Are you an attentive lover, or do you prefer to be pampered?”

His face was on fire. How was he supposed to answer those questions? If it had been someone his own age, perhaps, and if there was a healthy amount of liquor involved, then maybe he could. But this was Shikamaru. More than ten years his junior, and a former student, there was no way Iruka could discuss such things with him. They just…he couldn’t possibly…

--

Five kilometers outside the perimeter of Otogakure, Hatake Kakashi settled back on his heels. Crouched behind a tree, he glanced to his right. Sakura was staring off into the dark, her eyes fixed on something unseen. He wasn’t sure what she thought she might find here. Surely, she had volunteered to come so that she could free Naruto, and probably Sasuke, too. But he wondered if Sakura had considered that what lay behind those walls might not be to her liking. She looked at him, for what must have been the hundredth time. “Not yet,” he said. “The changing of the watch doesn’t occur until ten.”

Sakura nodded, her mouth pulled taught in a grim line. Perhaps she had thought of it, after all.

--

Every person in the room held a glass of wine. The prisoners were also gifted with the drink, to show Orochimaru’s generosity. Sasuke, however, had made certain that his cup was filled only with water. After having had a few rather unfortunate experiences with alcohol, he decided that it would be best not to take any for himself. It was embarrassing for a teenage boy, really, not to be able to hold his liquor. But, he reasoned that tonight, there was extra reason for him to remain sober. If his plan were to go off without a hitch, then he needed all of his faculties in good working order.

Hands rose around the room in a toast, and cups drained. A band began to play in the eastern alcove, and dancers filed in from one of the doors. They swayed, seemingly in a trance. Sasuke watched them with mild curiosity, only somewhat surprised when they scattered as the music began to pick up in tempo. None of the dancers wore much more than metallic body paints, and the guests seemed intrigued by them for that reason. They wove into the areas between tables, mingling with those seated there, dancing nearby, teasingly, until beckoned by one guest or another.

Sasuke thought that these people were rather shameless. They were hired, perhaps less for their ability as dancers, but more as cheap prostitutes. Of course, the room would be filled with enough sex soon enough to satisfy almost any depraved soul…

--

A/N: Feed the review monster. It is hungry.