It was a garden at twilight into which the proud Kazekage entered. Soft hues of blue and purple lined the fences; a clematis shone a beautiful aubergine colour in the dusky sunlight and delicate verbena sat in bunches lining the pathway to a pavilion. A beautiful stone structure with engraved arches and a stone dome stood magnificently in the centre of the garden with lavender caressing the stone steps leading up to the its entrance. Inside was a familiar figure; lying on a bench, playing with blossoms that fell from the cherry tree and drifted to her on the breeze, was a girl dressed in lilac. With large blue eyes and shimmering waves of dark hair, her fair skin glowed gold in the last rays of sunshine. Dressed in white silk slippers, white trousers and a long white top with high neck collar as was his usual fashion, Gaara could not take his eyes off of her. A nightingale sang out to the hidden moon as though announcing the man's arrival into her garden.
The young Kazekage approached with unhidden apathy; he sauntered up to her, a breeze ruffling his hair and a small smile of disbelief playing on his face. She was barefoot, the anklets he gift her one night in the palace gardens, were twinkling in the sunset. The layers of lilac chiffon she had wrapped around her were caressing her curves in the breeze, her veil was taken off her head and instead lying on the bench, swirling around her arm as she stretched out to the floor, letting a petal dance around her fingertip. As he entered the pavilion, she caught his eye and smiled mischievously, beckoning him in with the biting of her lips.
"I barely sleep and yet you've taken to haunting my dreams." Gaara said as her smile broadened. "Is there no end to this torture, Renai?" At hearing this name, her smile faded. The woman in front of him sat up suddenly, her innocent and coy looks replaced with one of smugness.
"You know I am not her?" She asked, her voice deeper than he remembered. Gaara leant against a pillar and folded his arms. "Of course I do," he scoffed, noticing now the lines around her eyes, the creases in her brow, "she looked more like an angel. Her skin did not sag, her teeth were not sharp, her hair more lustrous than starlight, not coils of barbed wire-"
"How dare you-?"
"What do you want, Renai?" The goddess' face fell entirely; she had the power to destroy this mortal in the blink of an eye and yet he stood, so defiant, so recklessly disrespectful, before her. She stood from the bench and made darkness descend onto the sky; the moon shone brightly on her as her dark hair swayed around her. Candles were lit suddenly, flames springing into life as nighttime covered the scene. Gaara did not flinch.
"Do you know who you're talking to!?" He practically rolled his eyes as she shouted. It was so like any form of Ai to be vain.
"Spare me the lecture," Gaara mumbled, staring absent-mindedly at the way the clematis on the opposite pillar twirled so effortlessly around the smooth stone before he turned his attention back to an outraged Renai. The look on her face, seeing Ai's brow furrowed in frustration, her fists clenched, it sparked something primal in him. "It's entirely your fault that the world has been shaped the way it has," he told her, watching her shoulders shake in frustration. "You put Ai on the Earth, you made her perfect to me, made our love inescapable." He unfolded his arms and stood definitely at the entrance of the pavilion. Inexplicably, stars began to shine behind him as though waking up to the Kazekage's indignation. "You made Ai capable of ninjutsu. That simple fact left us spiralling into something tragic. And now that I know her, I know you so well. You are both consumed by vanity and short tempers. And you are so much worse than her-"
"Gaara," Renai said in a warning tone but was barely heard by Gaara who was consumed by his utter fascination at her arrogant attempts to contact him.
"I bet you made sure she had even a tenth of your power not for her protection but because of your own arrogance and vanity!" The young, reckless Kazekage questioned the goddess of Love without faltering, "am I wrong?" He asked, watching as the goddess began to look bashful. "Did you not look at the Earth and think how they would worship her and you if they only knew who she was. So why not give them a clue as to her identity? Why not make her born of a lotus flower, have beauty only comparable to yours, be gifted in ninjutsu, make her only made for royalty?!" Gaara walked up to her, the goddess with the face of a woman he once loved and whispered: "You wanted her to be found. You could not stand the idea of her just being a village girl and holding a man's heart in her keeping." Gaara reached out a hand and put it against her face, ignoring the fizzle of electricity that passed through her body and to him. He watched her lips, the way they were painted in that soft rose colour he had grown to associate with late nights and the taste of plum wine. Her eyes caught his, there was a moment of utter tension, heart wrenching and stretching into the infinite. To the outside world it looked as though Ai and Gaara had reunited but the two knew they were not those people. A gust of wind whipped Renai's hair around them, Gaara's shirt lifted up slightly and swayed as cherry blossoms were plucked from the tree and fell in a shower around the pair.
The two broke eye contact as the breeze seemed to melt away and Gaara took his hand away from her face. "You simply had to complicate things because everyone knows Love is obsessed with itself more than anything in any world." Gaara scoffed and shook his head in utter disbelief. "This is the night before war, Renai! I am set to marry a princess. Has your meddling not done enough-!?"
"You think I am so powerful?" He was cut off by Renai as she sighed in exasperation. "You don't want to acknowledge the role fate has played?"
"I am done with your notions of fate and destiny-ah!" Gaara was shocked by something outside the physical and stumbled backwards, not even sure where he had felt the sudden pang of pain.
"Humans are so bold," Renai said coldly. "It frightens me how often you need to be reminded of your mortality. May I speak?" She asked without needing an answer; Gaara nodded. "Just because I am a goddess and immortal, does not make me incapable of being victim to fate," she lectured him. "I am not omniscient or omnipotent; being a deity under rule is an exceptionally restricted and puzzling existence. I did not know what would happen but I had hopes for what Ai might accomplish in her time on Earth." Gaara looked up at her, puzzled, he had not heard this part of the story.
"What did you want her to do?"
"I wanted her to discover what love was like for mortals. I was sitting in a star twenty one years ago when I heard the most beautiful poetry-"
"He who walks in the shadow of love-"
"Must surely have heaven beneath his feet." Renai nodded. "And so I visited Earth as an image in a notebook to speak with Ariwara no Kai and to tell him a daughter would be born to him." Renai shrugged as though helpless; as though none of this was her fault, as though she were a victim too. "I thought the story of Blood-love was no more than a legend, I was convinced it was over, unable to exist outside of heaven-"
"I don't believe you," Gaara snapped, "you knew Kai would bring her back to Suna and you knew there was a little boy so devoid of love that he could only ever fall in love with her. You knew the Blood-Love would be seen on Earth-"
"No!" Renai looked at him in bewilderment, "I," she huffed in frustration, losing her words. "For goodness' sake," she exclaimed, "what is it about mortal men thinking everything is about them? I'm not talking about your story, I'm talking about mine!"
"Yours?"
"Don't you know the story of the original Blood-Love?" Renai shook her head, trying to figure it out herself. "How was I to know what would happen? How was I to know who Ai would meet?" Gaara watched her begin to pace frantically.
"What?" He asked quickly; was his and Ai's story that linked to Renai's and…"Who? Who did Ai meet?" Renai turned to him, her eyes turning round in apology almost.
"Senso." Gaara stopped stock still; Ai met Senso? When? Who was he? When!?
"Senso was reincarnated on Earth?" Gaara asked and felt a shiver run down his spine as Renai nodded. " Who, who is he?" The Kazekage asked sternly. "Is it…me?" He asked uncertainly; surely he would know if he were a god incarnate? But Ai had never known until recently. "Well? Is it me," But Renai did not answer him. "Is it Sasuke?" The goddess turned to him, the nighttime turned colder as her eyes became heavy with a feeling of guilt.
"I'm afraid" she whispered, "you will not like the answer."
***
With delicate fingers, the girl who took the shape of Love was gently weaving ribbons together over a summoning tag. There was no need for the cool colours of teal, ocean blue and mint green, usually summoning tags were hung with red ribbon, but for some reason, the colder colours seemed to soothe her. Her blood felt warm; it ran close to the surface of her skin making her constantly feel a little hot. She had shrugged off her shawl when she entered the room she had temporarily transformed into a temple and lit the candles which lined the walls as though giving light to the stars; they twinkled so far from her in this large room that they may as well have adorned the sky. She longed to open the window and release some of this heat that was building up in the room, holding on to the spicy and thick scent of sandalwood that clung to the air.
Ai had barely been able to speak to Sasuke that morning, she was so caught up in the anger and frustration of being in love with the ungrateful fool that she could not think straight following his…proposal? He hadn't even asked her to marry him. He had asked her to bear his children and restore honour to his clan. The courtesan was, yet again, confused by her destiny; was she a whore, a courtesan, the Kazekage's beloved, the mother of the next generation of Uchiha? Why were all these roles defined by men? What did it mean to self-determine? Wasn't she doing that now? Here, in the Marble Palace, she was Empress, heir to the throne that looked after the world.
The look of her did not give any clue of the thoughts in her head, however. She looked quite sweet; a young girl with big blue eyes rolling up ribbon between her fingers, her nails painted a soft lilac as she stood, shimmering in white chiffon and rubies. Surrounded by books and candles, she seemed lost in an inviting world of antiquity. If you could tear your eyes away from her, however, you would find a most gruesome and eerie sight. Nine coffins stood upright, made from a sturdy bamboo, housing the empty bodies of Akatsuki girl was not as lovely as she first seemed to the unknowing watcher.
Ai was now powerful in her own right; barely into her twenties, untrained as a shinobi and more accustomed to dancing, the girl was formidable in reconnaissance, battle and magic. Magic was a strange word to use; it did not exist in the shinobi world that she had been drawn into, but it did exist in the music and poetry she had been a student of. Talk of spells from divine creatures, enchantments from women's eyes and charms from the Goddess of Love herself, were all stipulated in ancient texts. Magic was lost on humans and shinobi alike which was comfortingly ironic to Ai; she had been a rare delicacy to men as a courtesan but just slightly out of reach and considered strange to them now, as a warrior, she was still maintaining her status as the one who was a little different. If only people knew, how powerful she had become. She just had to think something into existence and-
"I didn't think you would wake me so soon-"
"Ah!" Ai turned sharply, surprised by her own skill, before dropping the bundle of ribbon in her hands and gasping at the sight of a man she had once been the victim of. Uchiha Itachi was shaking his head and straining against the binds holding his hands to the sides of the coffin as though trying to stretch and wake himself from a long sleep. Eventually, his coal-coloured eyes found hers. The delicate moonbeam, although powerful enough to incant without uttering a word, was still frightened to see what she could do. He looked down at her and bowed his head in respect.
"Forgive me, Uta (poem)," his silky voice seemed to catch the incense in the room and drift over to her. Her face softened, she relaxed a little before frowning; he had woken up as though he already knew where he was, who would be calling him.
"How did you know," Ai began but her voice trailed away as she remembered the last time she had brought someone back. "Oh," she said hoarsely, "Renai warned you?" She dowsed out the desire to roll her eyes.
"Not at all," Itachi, his hair spilling over his shoulders like dark water, surprised her. "I know you more than you know yourself. I saw the desire in you that day in Koto," the man smiled at her softly, "I know how your heart aches, beautiful one. I know what troubles you have faced." The girl seemed to stand taller as he spoke. Itachi had seen a determined and wronged woman that day in Koto; he knew which side she would take?
"You know nothing, Uchiha." At this, Itachi bowed his head and smiled to himself.
"Has Sasuke told you he loves you yet?" A deathly silence cleared the room of all heat at once. Ai's determined look fell from her face instantly.
"What?"
"My little brother. Has he told you he is in love with you?" A million questions ran through Ai's mind as he asked this; how did he know about her and Sasuke? How did he know things would go this way?
"No," Ai answered him, determined to know more. "How did you know we have met?" She asked. She saw Itachi falter for a moment and remembered all those months ago on the roof. He had come to her and asked her for forgiveness, treated her like a goddess and tortured her at the same time. Told her he had spent his life running from and chasing people he loved. Could it be now, here in the Marble Palace, on the brink of war, she would finally understand him?
"Before I died," the Uchiha began gruffly, "I asked you for forgiveness. But I did not confess my sin." A shiver ran down Ai's spine.
"What are you talking about?" With a heavy sigh, Itachi, a look of shame etched in his features, began to tell a new story:
"Sasuke's destiny and yours are linked. They are linked because," Itachi could barely look at her, "because I made it that way. I set you both in motion, spinning out into the world like dark clouds of chaos waiting to collide into one another and create a universe." Ai's head was beginning to feel like it was full of air; light and drifting. Yet another man was telling her how he controlled her life. "I killed my clan and told my younger brother to hate me, to grow strong and seek vengeance. I stole love from him in one long and gut-wrenching night of pain. He became empty, devoid of affection, loveless and torn. And you know," Ai blinked away tears as Itachi looked up at her, "love goes wherever there is none. I set up his life so meeting you was unavoidable and, of course, what else would you look like other than salvation to a boy who longed for love?" Ai swallowed hard.
"You made us meet?" She said in a disbelieving tone. "But I was set up to be a courtesan for life, how could you possibly have known I would be banished and become a war criminal?" Ai babbled, barely able to keep her thoughts together. "How could you know about Koto, about Jiaraiya's death, about what transpired at the Kage summit?"
"You are mistaken to think that my influence in your life was recent. I made an appearance in your life when you were a child. I tried to kill your father." Ai hand to lean against the table behind her as she felt week at the knees.
"What?"
"After my work in Konoha," Ai laughed in disbelief at his nonchalant attitude towards the Uchica clan massacre, "I followed the rumours of your birth to find where Ariwara no Kai kept you hidden. The Tea House was barely on of the great Houses in those days; all the coloured glass did not exist back then. Years ago, Suna did not regard the House as a monument of cultural heritage like it does now so it was easy to infiltrate. I entered the place, quiet as a shadow, with no expectations of what i would find." Ai let a tear run down her face, picturing the Tea House, how Megumi would have felt had she known a murderer had entered. "I approached your father as he slept in a bed with curtains made of a sort of-"
"Tulle," Ai whispered, barely looking at Itachi, remembering the way her hand would glide across the cream coloured net that surrounded her father's bed. She often used to imagine that is where her dreams projected and she would watch the moving shapes on the net.
"Yes," he agreed without knowing what she was talking about. But he remembered, in the dim candlelight seeing the figure of a sleeping man, like he had seen a thousand times before, waiting for his end. But then, inexplicably, from the darkness of the man's arms, came something he had not anticipated. "You had not yet fallen asleep. You opened your eyes and saw me. I couldn't take the look you gave me. Those azure blue eyes, so round, so innocent, begged me in an instant to protect you. You were barely six years old, hair almost down to your ankles, telling me off in the dead language with the voice of a skylark. I couldn't kill in front of you-"
"I don't remember this," Ai said suddenly; surely, being six years old meant that she should be able to remember what happened?
"Genjutsu mars the memory of that night," the man with purple-black hair explained to Ai's discomfort. "I saw your face and couldn't do it," Itachi explained, "not to something so beautiful. So I told him to abandon you. To only see you as a student from time to time to ensure you were not sold to anyone other than a high ranking shinobi so that you would one day enter the ninja world and pick a side." Ai's head was still swirling with questions. Itachi knew, made it so, that she would join the shinobi world but how? Why? And did that mean-
"You started this!?" Ai whispered indignantly. Why was it, wherever she ran to, some man was controlling what she did?
"I told you that day in Koto, Renai. I started a war for you."
"Why?" A shouted at him, her courage coming from her utter dislike and distrust of the man who had ruined the lives of the two men she had grown to love. "Who are you? I don't know you-"
"But I know you. So well." As he spoke this troubled enigma, Ai found that her patience was running out.
"Why do you want war?" She asked sternly, watching his figure and its dark shadow writhing in the coffin, trying desperately to feel truly alive.
"So humanity sees what shinobi have done to the world. So that the gods see what that forsaken Tree has cursed this world with!"
"Tree?"
"The divine tree that gifted humans chakra." As he spoke, Ai turned back to the table and, in anger, picked up the roll of parchment that she just had to blink at to send Itachi back to where his wretched soul had come from.
"But why would you want to show the gods such a thing?" She asked, walking towards him.
"The gods are selfish creatures," Itachi spoke quickly, Ai noticed the change of tone in his voice; he was sounding a little more desperate. "Disgusting, brutish tyrants obsessed with their own existence. They grow old on their vanity and fat on their egos." Ai held out the parchment like an assassin would hold out a blade as she approached him. "There was only one divine creature so beautiful, so lovely, so innocent that they threw her in prison because of their jealousy." Ai stopped in her tracks, how was Renai related to Itachi? Why was this happening? The candles lining the walls seemed to dim as she looked up at the man that towered in his coffin before her, his dark eyes hollow and dark, his hair falling in front of his face.
"Renai?" Ai asked, lowering her hand, "but why would you, a mortal, care about godly matters?" She asked, now being the one to sound desperate. "Who are you!?" At this question, the candles cowered, the nighttime seemed to seep in from beneath the doors and settle in the corners of the room, bringing a chill, an eerie silence. Ai knew the answer. Itachi sighed and looked down to her with clear affection.
"You know me well, Saiai (beloved)." As he spoke, the clatter of the parchment roll hitting the marble floor as it fell from A's hands, echoed around the room. She had no memories of him, for they were not her memories, but she knew him clear as day.
"Sensō?"