Artwork by @emilyisnursebaymax
Characters/Pairing: Shisui x Sakura; eventual Uchiha x Sakura; Sasuke
Title: Bewitched [Part One]
The woods surrounding Konoha are beautiful in every sense of the word.
They lie friendly in the day, with their evergreen needles and their redwood trunks. But at night, they’re darkly ominous. The endearing chirrups of gold-winged sparrows are nonexistent, instead replaced with the trills of crickets and the rattle of cicadas. A low hanging fog settles in, swirling mischievously at Sakura’s feet, while pathetic streams of moonlight dapple through the thick canopy. It's so dark now that the pitiful flames of her lantern are nearly swallowed whole and the only thing keeping her from stumbling are the outstretched hands of the surrounding trees and the unsettling churning in her gut.
To step into the embrace of the woods so close to the witching hour, is to welcome darkness, because these woods are thieves. They rob visitors of their senses—blinds them in exchange for the ears of a wolf and the nose of a rat. Envelops them in a claustrophobic entanglement of shadows and susurring branches. And sometimes, if the woods feel impish enough, the woods take more than that.
Ignoring the anxiety constricting her chest, Sakura carefully reaches for the holster draped at her waist and pulls out her panflute. The woods grow hushed as the first notes of her song carries through the void. There are no more crickets, no more birds. Not even a whistle of wind. Only her footsteps and her melody. Her song is low, ominous like the entirety of the woods, with quivering down notes and eerie high ones, and to the untrained ear, it nearly sounds like true fairy music.
Sakura diverges from the rutted path, turning right then left; her cloak sways with her movements, its frayed ends dancing around her protectively. She can feel the dirt packing between her toes as each step sinks the soles of her feet into the earth, and while jagged roots bite into her skin, it's nothing she isn’t used to. And the deeper into the woods she goes, the more she feels like she’s being watched. Her cloak brushes against bodies that may or may not be there, shadows morph and wings flutter.
She can taste the mischief in the air.
Carefully adjusting her basket and lantern so they dangle from the crooks of her elbows, and with her grip on the flute tight, Sakura allows her free hand to float at her side as she walks. She caresses the outreaching brambles and low-hanging leaves in hopes that her touch will appease the woods’ growing apprehension of her, stopping only when the rocks and dirt make way for fairy rings.
Her melody soon lifts into a more tranquil tune as the woodland fae giggle and sing in approval. Their fairy music joins her own, accompanied by the fluttering of wings and the appearance of squirrels; she doesn’t look down as the fairies breach from the chests of their hosts, fully aware of the danger she’s now in.
Because as beautiful as fae folk are, they’re ten times as dangerous.
Carefully, as not to break her song, Sakura sets her basket and lantern down, exposing the blueberries and quartz she brought as offerings, while scanning the void for any signs of life. A crow watches her, its head jerking curiously as it observes her. Decayed leaves crumble beneath heavy paws. A thousand eyes weigh her down while a million whispers ghost her skin.
She plays on, ignoring the playful tugs to her rose tresses and to the scarlet threads of her cloak, and she doesn’t stop even as magic scents the air. It compresses, fluttering around her with moonlit glitter, kissing her knuckles as she plays. Splashes of watercolor and silk constellate her vision, making her nose twitch and her belly drop, but she refuses to fall to the fairies’ mischief.
It’s only when the flame from her lantern abruptly dies away that she ends her song. Her breath shakes but she doesn’t show her nerves; Sakura stands tall with her chin tilted high and her shoulders straight.
Because the woods has accepted her offering.
“I call upon the gift of air,” She begins, bringing her hands to float at her sides again. A trickle of air intertwines with her fingers. “Gusty winds and breezes fair.”
Sakura smiles to herself a little more confidently as the tails of her hair tickles at her nose, kicked up with the breath of wind that drew by. The leaves shudder overhead, scattering decayed slivers of orange and red amongst the void. She closes her eyes, and says loudly, “Carry this witch’s greeting across distant lands—take flight! A hearty welcome for a familiar, I invite.”
A crow squawks and a wolf howls; the wind picks up, making her cloak lash out with a ferality that comes with an angry fae but Sakura is not deterred.
She furrows her brows and huffs defiantly, brushing aside the amused songs of the surrounding fairies as she continues, “Fae of the forest, hear my plea. Come forth and seek me, and equals we will be. Not master to servant, but familiar to familiar. To protect and honor, always and forever.”
The woods are alive with the presence of fae folk. Gold eyes appear from across the void while fairies creep from the bodies of their birds and the bark of trees. But no one approaches. And in the blink of an eye, the woods becomes just that—woods. Just knobbed trunks and crickets.
The fae are gone. The wolves disappear. The crows are silent.
But Sakura waits. She waits and waits and waits until she can’t anymore and it infuriates her because she knows the spell was correct. The fae acknowledged it. They heard it, responded to it. So then why—
“To protect and honor, always and forever, huh?”
Sakura stiffens, startled at the sudden voice around her and tries to whirl around only to find herself frozen. Hands settle on her shoulders for a moment before one slowly drifts down her arms with a feathery lightness that evokes chills in their wake. It travels to her wrist, encircling it, keeping her just out of reach of the dagger at her hip while the other hand ghosts along the curve of her neck.
She tries to ignore the breath on the back of her neck and the overwhelming scent of caramel and Hellfire that envelops her. “To protect and honor,” She reiterates, calm despite the fear winding down her spine. “Always and forever.”
Whoever—or rather, whatever—is behind her hums. “Forever is a long time, Witch.”
Sakura swallows the lump building in her throat. "I'll have you for however long you'll have me."
His responding laugh and the way he drags his fingertips down to her wrists raises a garden of goosebumps along her arms, and it's not completely pleasant. He opens a hand, palm up just below her own while the other lifts a strand of hair. "Your name?"
Sakura smiles to herself, shoving aside the uneasy shiver that threatens to crawl down her spine. She knows their tricks. She can hear the mishief in his voice. To give her name is to welcome trouble, because who knows what the Fae will do with it?
And the way his hand hovers, waiting like the hand of an expectant child, he's not asking out of formality.
"You can't have my name," Sakura says. "But you may call me Sakura.
The Fae's chuckle is a warm one full of summer evenings and pine trees, thunderstorms and something dangerous. "Oh I like you," He laughs, brushing the pads of his fingers against her knuckles. "Then you may call me—"
He's interrupted by a loud snarl and the beating of approaching footsteps, but neither are human. Quickly, Sakura frees the dagger against her hip just as a large wolf jumps out at her, jaw unhinged and crimson eyes wild; but as quickly as she sees it, its gone, replaced by the heat of a body against her chest.
The snarl of the Fae enveloping her is otherworldly, feral—demonic—alighting Helfire all throughout her body, but it evokes a sort of comfort that Sakura can't say she's ever felt before. She blinks, cautiously moving in the grasp of the Fae to chance a glance at him, only to find her view obscured by a wall of feathers.
Entranced by the glossy feathers, Sakura tentatively reaches for them, carefully skirting her fingertips along the jade sheen. The feathers sway, ruffling slightly at her touch, and piercing, scarlet eyes peek through so she pulls back as if burnt.
The wings lower slightly and the arm around her waist loosens, allowing Sakura a glimpse of fangs embedded into black cloth and blood on dark fur. The wolf's eyes meet hers, narrowing, and then there's a pained grunt as the beast's jaws tighten around the arm in its mouth.
"Sasuke," She hears. "Stop."
The wolf is reluctant, its hackles high and body vibrating with its rage, and it gives one last huff before releasing the Fae. Sakura feels him relax, and the softness of his touch compels her to mimic him.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
Gone is the wolf, replaced by a man—a man with skin like snow and hair like a raven's wings. His eyes are sharp, dark like a reflection of the deepest reaches of an underground cavern and sprinkled with red. But what makes her breath still in her chest, are the horns that stand out atop his head. They're tall, curving down once before shooting straight up and spiked on the bend, with scales colored an iridescent shade of indigo that makes her think of a slick of oil. And they're adorned with silver bands.
Sakura feels her blood turn to ice, not just at the way the demon spat her title, but at the weight of the older one’s stare landing upon her. Fae are dangerous on their own, but Demons are something in a league all their own.
And she had spoken her name to one.
"Are you stupid?” The Demon-Fae called Sasuke hisses. “Entertaining the call of a Witch?”
She can feel the bloodlust radiating from the enraged Demon-Fae and considers running. She mulls over the incantations in her head—banishing spells, protection spells, binding spells—but ultimately, she finds herself rooted in place, pinned to her Fae’s chest by an arm and feathers.
“Is my baby cousin concerned about me?” He has the gall to tease. “How cute!”
Sakura pushes the feathers aside to look up at her Fae. His expression is calm, with only the faintest down-turning of his brows hinting towards his irritation. But his eyes, dark and murky, glow with mirth. He’s handsome, even more so than the Demon-Fae behind her, with strong features and moonlit skin; his hair falls in devious curls that part around his horns.
He has two sets of them—a testament to his age. One set curves out, then in and up, nowhere near as high as the former’s; while the other set curls down and straight back, their points just barely peeking out from the angle he stands. The shadows dull their color, unfortunately, but she can glimpse where the moonlight catches on the jewels draped along them.
And when he peers down at her, from beneath enviously long lashes, Sakura has to force herself to breathe.
Sasuke’s growl is predatory, so powerful that Sakura can feel it palpate in her chest. “Quit playing around! You know that fraternizing with a,” He pauses, glancing in her direction with his nose scrunched in distaste. “Witch is asking for trouble.”
The Demon-Fae straightens, his shoulders stiffening and chin raising, and then wings that gleam with a hint of jade outstretch. They spread so wide, they eclipse the moon and morph into the darkness between the trees.
“This Witch, Sasuke,” The Demon-Fae begins, and his hands come to rest at the base of Sakura’s neck and around her wrist. “Is under my protection. For always and forever.”
