Choice

by Darth_Redhood, Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Summary:

She had a choice, it was either her life or her loyalty.
Clearly it didn’t matter what she chose, because her fate was decided.

Notes:

Hey everyone! This is the first time I’m trying my hand outside romance/humour, do tell me how you guys like it.

Chapter 1

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Darkness. That is the only word that can even begin to decipher this nauseating eeriness which is blind to the eye. There is nothing to be seen as all of the landscape hides behind the curtain of lone gloom, all of it being consumed by the thunderstorm that rages on. The waves rise high to accept the befalling showers and sink low to submit them to the rest of the sea. The lightning declares its presence with help of deafening thunders. The waves reply with the large ripples of their own as they take on to what the skies throw to them.

The vision of this phenomena only comes to the sight when being illuminated by the lightning. Other than that, a shadow of murk adds onto it and hinders the virtual sense. Thus, it is to be excused if any bold hearted sailor were to pass by and miss the view of a stunted rock of an island that rests into this part of the sea. Even more insignificant is the shabbily built shack that stands upon this rock, appearing too poor to withstand the situation at hand.

A bellowing roar can be heard as the window panes crackle and dent. The merciless shattering of glass continues throughout this exchange. The excuse of a door seems willing to unhinge and let the swift winds take it. The roof appears ready to collapse.

This is, offcourse, what the exterior of the structure has to say, for what goes on inside is a completely different story altogether.

The interior is filled with blackness as well, rivaling the one on the outside, but it fails to provide any sorts of noise which matches the horror of the storm. What hangs inside is silence, as quite as death, as fragile as glass. It breaks just as easily when a heart wrenching scream tears through it, remains of which rebound in form of echoes, each one less disturbing than the previous.

Another sound is heard soon enough. This one is quieter, but hard, like that of leather furiously running over a surface. Just as it goes off, the pitch black room gives way to a glow. The glow is not warm, but rather cold enough to make the person it is focused on shiver.

The glow comes from a pair of reptilian eyes, whose bright shine seperate them from the rest of the abyss. The gaze of those eyes is steel cold, black slits in the middle glaring at the subject in scrutiny as it writhes like a dying fish longing to be freed of her pain. If it continues to be so, there is no hope for her, he believes.

The subject, also the source of the ear splitting scream, continues to whine in anguish, every bit of her being aching as severely as it could. She continues to twist and turn, her torment giving rise to restlessness as she coils in every possible way to ease her suffering. That is to no avail. No matter what she does, the stinging pain just seems to increase. A single tear leaks from one of her tightly shut eyes as she grunts and cries. 

The seething relaxes in a few minutes, but to Anko, it feels nothing short of an entire lifetime. Her cries dwindle and she manages to stay in that particular position even if her body commands otherwise. She savours the relief heavily, starting with inhaling largely to make up for the lack of air in her lungs. 

By the time it seizes entirely, save for the spot of discomfort where it had contaminated her whole body from, she is spread on the dusty floor, drained of all her strength almost entirely, gasping for her dear life and not caring for the dirt matting onto her wild purple hair.

With life restored back into her, she finally makes the attempt to see the glow for herself. Turning her head ever slightly so, she half heartedly faces the light that she had garnered from the corner of her eye. The chill those charged eyes send her way evidently reaches her and her half shut eyelids widen a bit, less so in stagger and more in recognition.

A sound similar to a an exhale reaches her now functioning ears. Apparently, he is all too amused to be acknowledged by her. Mustering up strength to say anything is an obstacle, but she manages to cross it as her lips start to quiver.

“L-lord” She begins, her shaky tongue hard to support. “Oro- chimmmaru?”

For the first few seconds, she is greeted with nothing save for the sound of the sea storm on the outer edge of the rock. The conclusion that this person is someone —or something— else is prepared to seep into her head, but those thoughts are scratched when the being opens his mouth.

“Yes, Anko?” Comes the reply, and Anko feels an unknown sort of relief enter her body at the familiar husky voice. The pain had numbed her to an extent, due to which she fails to connect the dots regarding her current situation.

“S-someone at-attacked me.” She professes, her throat getting heavy. The pain was too much for her twelve year old self to bear, but she tries to hold back the tears that the discomfort has brought upon her. She wants to sob, and if lord Orochimaru doesn’t allow her to, she’ll do it once she is alone at home.

What she hears next, however, completely foils her plan of doing so. Not only that, it nearly causes her heart to stop as well.

“I know that, my dear child.” She could feel the sadistic grin behind this overtly sweet voice in her nerves. “For I am the one who attacked you.”

If she could open her eyes wide enough, she would have, but she still had too much stamina to garner. 

She resorts for a small gasp instead.“You attacked me?” She whispers, sans the stutter this time. Her eyes fill up just as her teacher ignites a candle, his form now capable of being seen, but blurry to her.

“Indeed I did.” He confirms. Even if her brain is not working as logically as it should, the lack of regret in those words is easily picked up by her.

Anko can’t hold it back anymore. She closes her eyes and streams of glycerine escape, just as she sobs pathetically, 

“But why? Why did you do this to me?”

If Anko was expecting for her tears to melt his heart, she could not have been anymore wrong. The only thing her wailing does is feed her sensei’s sadism and allows a nasty grin to form.

“Because I wanted to see whether you’ll survive or not.”

This was a simple, upright reply, but not the one she had been expecting. Truth be told, she has no idea what she was supposed to expect when questioning her teacher who almost killed her.

She breaks into tears, moaning and crying right in front of him. Today, she didn’t have the time to tell herself that she isn’t supposed to do so or she won’t be taken seriously. She just wants to cry, to wail and howl. Her sensei, the one person she would trust with her life, has tried to end her. The betrayal is too much for her to handle. She has suffered too much in life to deserve it. She will cry her eyes out if she must, but she will not stop until there is grief in her.

The grief, the irritation, the anger she has towards life comes pouring down as she shrieks. A storm stronger than the one tearing away their windows rages inside of her.

Orochimaru, offcourse, could not care less for any of that. No, that would have required for him to see Anko as a human in the first place. But he let her cry, because she would need to be attentive for the next part of his elaboration. He just pays enough attention on her sobs as he does on the winds outside. However, once it becomes evident that she is most likely going to cry herself to death, he knows he has to intervene.

“Now, now, Anko.” He chides, fake enough for her to cognise. “There’s no point crying now, is there? The condition you are in, you aren’t going to survive long enough to finish your mourning.”

She gives a deaf ear to his warning and continues to weep. For all she cares, the angles of death can come and escort her to the underworld; she would not even flinch. One of the closest people in her life just stabbed her in the back, that too quite literally. What does she have to live for? If she is being honest, death would have been a better alternative than her current situation. Atleast she would have met her end peacefully, unknowing of the harsh truth. All her fond memories queue up in front of her eyes as she prepares to depart from her life, not knowing what exactly is making her more sad; the betrayal, her upcoming demise, or the fact that she won’t see those near and dear to her in this lifetime.

Orochimaru, meanwhile, takes his time stalking upto her and sinking his knees, ruffling the near paralysed girl’s accumulated hair and flicking away her tears in mock affection.

“But worry not, my dear pupil.” He interjects as she continues to ignore his presence. “For I know a way by which you can survive.”

She hates it. She absolutely loathes herself for the piqued interest this brought into her. Taking life saving remedies from the man that treated her like a lab rat. But she cannot stop herself in time, because the advantages of living seem to outweigh that of death, one of them being able to report this incident. Atleast that is what her mind convinces her of.

She doesn’t respond, but her body language symbolises that she is listening. He gives a maniacal giggle and his snake like eyes glow up frighteningly before he answers her ask.

“Yes, you will be able to live and test this new power of yours.” The fact that he just described the worst kind of torture she has ever experienced as nothing more than a mere power boost tells Anko that he has indeed gone insane. The psychopathic expression of his would not help his case either.

“All you have to do is come with me.” He ends, and sees no sign of realisation anywhere on her face.

He sighs, and in order to compliment her understanding, he reaches for her face. Naturally, she blenches. He grabs hold of her headband and with a clean swipe, he yanks it off of her. Then, as her saddened, curious eyes look on, he presents it to her.

“You have to simply leave your past behind in order to live on, you understand it now?” He raises an eyebrow, anticipation painted on his face.

She understands. She most definitely understands. He is asking her to leave the leaf village. More specifically, he wants her to betray it. That is the only plausible reason occurring to her as to why she should forget her acquaintance with them. 

If anybody else had been betrayed, given a choice between living and becoming a criminal, all in a span of ten minutes, heavens know they won’t be able to take it. Anko is no different. She heartily wishes that this is nothing more than a nightmare, or a stupid genjutsu, that is ruining her mind, but all the pain she feels, that runs down her left shoulder and the one in her heart, is very real.

She has a choice, but in truth she has no choice. She feels helpless. She feels desperate. The choice is right there, but it truly isn’t.

“Well?” He furrows, quirking an eyebrow like he’s asking her what flavour of ice cream she wants rather than whether she chooses life or death.

A fresh set of tears emerges from her eyes as she opens her mouth to answer, too sorry for her own self and for everyone she has ever cared for, all of whom lived within the very borders which she wouldn’t be seeing ever again either ways.

———————————

As the ship nears the shores, his heartbeat gets more and more difficult. He continues pacing on the deck with worry seeping itself off his forehead in form of precipitation. He can barely stop the worst kind of thoughts from invading his head. He cannot understand for the life of his why he is even entertaining such possibilities.

We should’ve left earlier , one such thought declares. What if she is gone by now?

He tries pushing them away, but to no avail. These thoughts have made themselves at home eversince they were called into the Hokage’s office just before leaving for another mission, one involving a bridge, and told that they will be instead looking for Anko and Orochimaru, who haven’t reported from their wave mission since a month.

A month? And they tell them now?! 

He grunts with such force that the seagulls resting on the railings flee in terror.

Kakashi wasn’t the only one that labelled it as bullshit, since Obito had started barking there and then, telling the Hokage that he won’t be forgiven if his friend doesn’t make it back alive, and to everyone’s surprise, Kakashi had shown support for Obito this time, warning lord third that if they are too late, it is his mistake. The hokage’s face was a sight to behold, but he didn’t have time for that; he had to go and bring Anko back.

If she is alive, that is. His train of thoughts is causing him to go insane.

He feels a hand gently grab the back of his shoulder, and he instantly rotates on his heels to come face to face with another boy, identified by his trademark goggles and grin. He has a soft, sympathetic smile on his face right now, one which indicates that he understands the other boys feelings. He nods and declares,

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure she has already kicked ass of whatever was causing her a delay.” He winks and Kakashi can’t help but smile at this gesture.

A girl comes upto the two of them, smiling brightly despite the ever so evident hurt in her eyes which makes Kakashi feel guilty.

“Obito’s right.” She assures just as ship reaches ashore. “You know Anko is stronger than that.”

He can do nothing except agree with their conjectures just as the three of them jump down the boat and make a beeline for the wooden structure that stands in front of them. All three of them look at each other, then at the door yet again. The answer to what was Anko’s fate lies inside, and naturally none of them are ready to take the step, because secretly, they have all assumed the worst regarding their friend.

In finalty, Obito is the one who gulps down his fear and gets hold of the wooden handle. Holding back his breath, he pushes it open with closed eyes and all three of their beating hearts come to a stop. The only things to be seen inside are the chemicals from Orochimaru’s labs, without which he wouldn’t even budge. The only thing even signifying the presence of a human is the dried rusty stain, which was obviously a pool of blood before bein evaporated, that lies in the middle of the shack.

Shakily, Rin scans the pool for chakra, only to reply with a heavy throat. “I-it’s Anko’s...”

That is the last thing Kakashi hears before Obito’s choked sobs fill the room. Tears roll down the Uchiha’s sunken face as he comes to the realisation that his dear friend is no more. Soon enough, he is joined by Rin, sniffing and whimpering uncontrollably. 

That is when Kakashi feels his legs get shaky, since the carpet from beneath them is so smoothly snatched. He falls on his knees just as tears start shedding from his own eyes and into the puddle of blood in which he stares his reflection.

Anko is gone. The one person he could share all his grievances with, the one who never gave up on him and brought him back from doom, the first person he ever considered his friend, the girl he was not so secretly in love with. She is gone.

The night is welcomed by unstoppable bawling of three children who just lost a dear one.

Chapter 2

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Summary:

Time skip: seven years. Kakashi’s wounds are far from healed, but he carries on with himself.
Atleast he tries to.

Notes:

Hey! How’s everyone doing? This chapter doesn’t have our beloved snake lady, but there’s plenty of Kakashi if that’s any consolation.😅

The echo of footsteps continues to rattle through the surroundings, the voice that the soft grass lets out as it snaps and squishes beneath the pair of hyper mobile feet all too clear due to the morning dew resting atop it. The sound is audible enough for a civilian to garner, let alone a seasoned shinobi who the assailant is desperately striving to escape from.

His sandals are cacked in mud, which proves to be a hinderance in rushing as fast as he would truly aim to. Droplets of sweat depart from his lined forehead and halt at his furrowed brow as his sharpened senses try to frame his enemy. He would be lying if he said that his hearing is entirely reliable, but luckily enough, the sense has elevated enough to warn him of an upcoming assault mere moments before it occurs.

That is precisely how he dodges the parade of chakra infused kunai with voltage potential high enough to electrify him for good.

“Dammit,” He wheezes minimally, pasting himself along the thick trunk of the tree as he glares at the deadly blades which are now stabbed into the soil, missing him by mere inches.“That was close.”

Soon enough, he realises that his troubles are far from over, for he detects the heated glare his concealed assaulter is shooting his way, and braces himself for attack just as a flash of silver hair glides down to see to him personally, his leg connecting with the ravenet’s arm just shortly, pasteling his jacket sleeve with dirt.

The raven grunts at the paining impact; he’s certain that the sole of his competitors sandal has imprinted itself on his forearm finely. To add onto that, the silver headed boy uses his arm for the purpose of launching himself high in the air, where he performs an awe awakening backflip before steadily landing on both his feet a few metres away from his prey, eyes narrowing as he takes the stance of attack yet again.

The ravenet determines that no such chance is to be bestowed upon his predator. Steadying his feet, he makes a mad dash to his right, and is followed by his rival who runs parallel to him. As he covers the distance away from the canopy of trees, he keeps his sights fixated onto the other person and his arms position themselves for him to start conjuring up seals. The boy following him does the same when the realisation of his competition’s motives dawns onto him.

They barely make it to the clearing when the raven yells “Fire style, fire ball jutsu!” Simultaneously to the silver head’s “Water style, water gun jutsu!”

The dawning grassland glows at this phenomena of fire and water colliding and neutralising each other right in the middle of this distance. A wall of steam flares up, binding their view enough to  prevent either of the two from deciphering each other’s activities. So it is a surprise to the raven when the silver headed male suddenly tears through the cloud, leg protruded and aimed right at his face.

His eyes widen, but before he can do anything else, he panics. Naturally, the only thing he can do is observe in terror as the steam drenched shinobi lands a hit square on his face and sends him sailing back a few metres before he can handle himself and will his body to do a flip and land on his own accord with his feet rather than his back.

Offcourse, he is curious as to how his assaulter managed to keep him engaged in a showdown whilst knocking the living daylights out of him at the same time. The answer to this question appears as the mist clears in front of him.

A modest smile forms onto his face as he grazes at the two images of the silver haired man stand in front of him, hands on hips, inhaling heavily and looking at him in a way which can only be described as a morph of arrogance and disappointment. 

“Shadow clones, huh?” He wheezes, trying to hold his breath. The person to his right performs a single sign and his image to the left vanishes in a puff of smoke.

“Haven’t trained with them in quite a while.” He remarks as the silver head gives an unthoughtful nod, before suggesting. “I think that would be enough for today. Let’s wrap this up.” 

The raven gives a mere second of thought to this proposal before replying “Alright.” and wiping his reddened face with his forearm, layers of precipitation wetting the garment atop it immediately.

Other than their startlingly in sync breathing, the only sound audible to the ear is that of wind. Flowing carelessly over the meadow and tickling the grass as it passes by. The chirping of sparrows as they work tirelessly to build themselves an adobe soon joins the sound, their shrill coos adding to the pleasantness. The shrieking of beetles announces their presence as well, all while the sun is in middle of its ascend and illuminating the ground with its shimmer. Overall, the summer morning is as enchanting as it could be, making the grassland a desirable spot for anyone who wishes to spare some minutes to tranquility.

That would be, offcourse, if the meadow was not known as a training ground for shinobi to hon their skills at. Various nin come to practice and perfect what they have in their arsenal. The kunai marks on the tree and the bloodstained grass stands witness to it. The ground has observed countless leaf nin come and go. It has given konoha some of its most worthy warriors, three of whom moulded themselves into the admirable leaders whose faces shine bright as a fancy display on the rock overhead.

One team, however, is particularly notorious for choosing this explicit spot as their default training area. Those who consist of it are seen here often; mightily for the purpose of sharpening their activity, and sometimes to steal a few moments from their fast pacing lives. Two of its members have just concluded their morning workout in this very place, and are currently busy collecting their gear before they give in to their duties for the day.

“Your kicks have gotten better.” The one with the silver hair says in a huff, pulling down the vizards on his face to gulp down some much needed water. 

His comrade, however, does not take the compliment well.

“Oh, save it, stupid Kakashi!” He begins in a tone of accusation all too familiar to his friend. “You won again. There’s no need to say stuff to make me feel better!”

Kakashi fails to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Before he can contain it, he recounts “Alright, then. Your genjutsu needs some work, it was way better last time.”

He believes that he should have professed as such in the first place, for Obito has been demanding a truthful feedback eversince the two of them had deterred to spar together, something the ravenet likes to call his ‘training to be the hokage’. So to him, complaints about his skillset are nothing new.

“Dammit!” He scrunches, taking Kakashi’s saying to the heart. His head lowers in rue and his fists clench in agony. 

Kakashi has seen this frustration on his face more than often, his winning streak against Obito just shy of being perfect. It is not as if Kakashi hasn’t attempted coaxing him out of it, but all his bearings are met with the same recited rebuttal.

“No, it’s not okay!” He reasons, arms flared out dramatically. “I have to get better than you if I want to be the Hokage! It’s a matter of months until the next in line is decided, and if I fail in taking you on at your fullest then they’ll choose you over me! You already have the girl I love, I’m not letting you have my dream job as well!”

Kakashi sighs at him tiredly. Even if Obito isn’t able to get promoted to Hokage, he has a successful carrier in theater waiting for him. He has been saying these very words on daily basis for months and somehow never bores himself of it. And the dramatic expression he morphs his face into, ugh.

“I personally think you will do better by degrees if you focus on your training as much as you do on that stupid dialogue.” He scowls rationally, just before pulling the covering back on his face.

The reaction this invokes is expected by the Hatake. “Shut up you idiot! Those are parts of the speech I’ll give once I make Hokage!” Obito razzes and Kakashi resorts to plainly ignoring him per his usual routine. He just stares at his surroundings, longing clear as crystal as he continues to look at the lush grass right beneath the lone tree in front of him.

“Let’s go.” He says instead. “We have to report for duty in a few minutes.” He cross checks his predicament by slipping away part of his glove to gaze at his wristwatch. He stands corrected.

Obito offers his teammate an inspecting stare, eyes travelling down to his feet and then back upwards. Post the quick visualising, he nods with a hum and arches downwards to claim his belongings, ensuring himself that he has collected everything. Following that, he arches forwards,  and with a blink of an eye, darts away, Kakashi following him hot on the heels, tho not before giving the meadow a lasting look signifying his temporary farewell. If everything goes well, he will be back here soon enough.

They resort from taking their regular route, which offers countless trees and soothing greenery that pleases the eye, and opt for the shorter pathway which travels all the way from the heart of already bustling village. 

Once away from the training area, the bright alleyways of their home welcome them, its bedazzling demeanour in heap contrast to the meadow’s plaid ones. They sparsely dodge the flock of civilians devoted to their dawning daily lives, shinobi heading to and fro the Hokage office, a number of them leaving after receiving their duties, whilst a few of them are risking their punctuality alike the two of them. Obito narrowly misses diving face first in a bullock cart and Kakashi shakes his head tiredly. What is it with this idiot?

The marketplace is generally tightly packed, but during these peak hours? Kakashi and Obito are fortunate to have chakra which permits the act of scaling the top of the buildings, for the ground beneath does not have enough space for them to steadily set a foot. The boys tend to parkour over buildings on regular basis; they are quite fond of the vision this tends to provide. Kakashi’s genuine love for heights fuels him with ardour as he peaks down to notice how high up he is. Obito, on the other hand gawks at the unhindered view of the Hokage mountain with a sparkle in his sight.

“One day-” He begins ambitiously, only to be cut short by his much tiresome friend.

“Your face is going to be up there, right next to Minato sensei.” He recites, his tone as nonchalant as it could be, then turns to face his friend with droopy eyes which convey his emotion as a whole. “I know.”

It’s merely a moment after that when both detect a third presence joining their company, his footsteps in correspondence to theirs, and hear an amused mumble query;

“Running late, are we?”

“You too, huh?” Obito senses his lips curving upwards in mild pleasure. He keeps his sights ahead, while Kakashi turns his head to give their companion a quick glance.

As usual, he has his trusted senbon firmly sandwiched between his jaws, and his long brunette hair drag behind as he races forwards. Given, he only ever appears to be bored or amused, and it is the latter expression he has donned as of now.

“It’s sort of becoming a habit for you, tho.” Hatake taunts, considering the consistency he has shown in appearing late for duty prior to today and how if he is ever on time, his Jonin gear and bandanna are noticeably disheveled. 

Genma slants an eyebrow at first, then makes sure to pass a comment in his defence.

“Believe me, I always do try to be on time. It’s just my girlfriend—” Not so reluctantly, he halts himself from providing too much details. When he speaks up, his voice has a hint of timidness.

“You get it. New relationship and all.” He puts forward in slight embarrassment.

They do get it, even if they have never faced such encounters themselves, they are filthy minded enough to understand what is being implied. Obito and Kakashi share a look.

“Every morning?” Kakashi furrows with a raised eyebrow.

“Shizune can be pretty wild sometimes.” He admits, his voice devoid of any shame as he convulsedly watches the Uchiha suffer from second hand embarrassment instead.

“You had to say that, didn’t you?” Obito squeaks while desperately shoving the mentally generated image away. Thanks to this shameless jonin, the innocent image of a girl who is almost a sister to him has been tarnished. He highly doubts if it will ever rebuild.

“He asked.” Genma simply gestures his eyes at Kakashi, who in turn could not care less about the description given to him. 

“Didn’t mean you had to say.” Obito protests, and as he does so, the three of them take the final leap which had been separating them from the roof of the administrative building.

“How late are we?” The brunet questions huskily as his sandals hit the concrete, in answer to which Kakashi removes his glove partially to glaze at his wristwatch.

“Only fifteen minutes.” He notes.

“Thank God.” He relieves, following which the three of them take turns receding from the roof the floor below. After that, they resort to reserving their strengths and taking the flight of stairs down to the podium where they are supposed to assemble.

They have barely made it down the first flight of stairs when they see a familiar face blockading their path, hands on her hips and face painted in disapproval.

“Shizune.” Kakashi greets her with great calamity in his voice.

“Kakashi.” Shizune replies just as courteously.

“Hey babe.” Genma greets without any regard of the agitation on her face. She, however, forces him to do so when he steps up to pull her in a kiss and ends up feeling his puckered lips against her firm palm.

“Don’t you dare ‘Hey babe’ me.” She warns in pure agitation, and he lazily retracts himself from her. “You have been late for duty every single work day this week.”

“And whose fault is that?” He quirks an eyebrow in a somewhat accusing manner. His girlfriend, however, is quick to brush the blame off of herself.

“Yours.” She deadpans, even more provoked than previously and shooting the two Anbu behind her partner a hasty glance. “Now get in their before I mark the three of you as absent for duty this morning.” She commands, tone serious enough for Genma to garner the fact that she is no mood to discuss their sexual adventures in front of his two accomplices.

“Yes m’aam.” He immediately agrees, then with a quick peck on her cheek, he dashes in, the other two close on his tail.

Obito looks back once and throws her a regretful gaze as she huffily scribbles something on her entrusted clipboard.

“I can never look at her the same way. Ever again.” He whispers sickly once it is established that they are far from the ravenette’s hearing range.

Even if Kakashi doesn’t show it, he is very much amused by his friend’s misery.

———————————

“That’s why we didn’t see you three in the assembly meeting, ain’t it?” The male puts forward amendmently, one hand descending into the pocket of his trousers and returning with a shining silver collectible, which he uses to ignite the cigarette pressed between his dark lips. The waitress passing the two of them shoots Asuma a long look which signifies objection, even if the cafe does not prohibit the act of smoking.

“Yep.” Kakashi replies shortly, watching with surprising interest as the flame vanishes and a seething burn takes form on the head of the cigarette. 

One can’t blame him for engaging himself as such. Other than himself and, Gai and his chain smoker friend here, he has no company. Obito got sent on a investigation mission along with Genma and Tenzou, So did Kurenai. Rin and Shizune have excused themselves to a shopping spree. So the only alternatives he has are to either put an ear to Gai’s rambling about his visit to the local orphanage or to stare colourfully at the death stick, and somehow the later is less mind numbing than the former.

Noting his disinterest, Asuma deters that it is time to veer the topic of conversation.

“It must be killing you, right?” He asks in an all knowing manner instead, lips quirking up slightly. “Having a day off while everyone else gets to work?”

“It does.” He nods. 

Kakashi feels slight indignation rise up inside him at being set idle. Even more so owing to the fact that Genma was allotted a mission while he wasn’t. Everyone knows that him, Tenzou and Obito are a much more lucrative option. They have the highest success rates in the entire shinobi corps as of now, and the most obvious choice for missions relating to search and investigation. Heavens know that the sloth of a man that his brunet friend is would be more than happy to throw this task to him.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, if there mission turns out to be a failure, it’s you who’ll be sent next time.” The Sarutobi jokes while taking a puff of his cigarette. 

Kakashi shows no actual emotion at this statement, other than a very much neutral “hmm.”

“Any idea what you’ll be doing today?” The ravenet desperately tries pushing this conversation against his friend’s will.

Hatake’s eyes dart away, indicating a thinking procedure going on inside his head, in wake of which he shakes his head.

“No idea.” He concludes. “What about you?” He determines that if none of his acts for the day are too personal, he can follow his friend around.

Asuma shrugs. “I think I’ll just spend the day with you. We haven’t had a good talk in ages.” He puts forward, then curtly adds. “If it’s no trouble to you, offcourse.”

He agrees to this idea readily, it’s not like he has anything else going on in his life right now. But deep down, his approval is owed to the fact that the destination he had planned for himself, he wouldn’t have to greet its haunting all on his own.

Half an our later, he finds himself taking the route away from the village and towards the woods, his only companion being his Sarutobi friend who is grasping at straws while trying to corner him into talking about anything at all.

He finds the topic in form of his mysterious roommate, whom he realises he doesn’t have satisfactory information about.

“When is his birthday again?” Asuma queries whilst scratching his head. 

In these past months of them living in the same apartment, Tenzou has been nothing if not suspicious. To Asuma, he is nothing short of a ghost who appears late at nights and leaves at early twilight hours, keeps an eerie eye on him but rarely ever speaks, the only signs of him having any emotions at all are the faint smiles that he passes his way when the Sarutobi is trying to be funny, but they are not even properly friends, let alone eligible enough to be roommates. 

It’s simply that his father bid him to keep the boy under his protection and he could not get himself to say no and add more salt to the wounds him and his father share. He, however, has always suggested that Kakashi switches roommates with him since it was more than evident that his saviour is the only one he felt completely safe with, him being the only one he ever talks to on his own accord.

“We don’t know.” He quips. “His earliest memories are those of Orochimaru’s lab, so there’s no way of tracing his parents and confirming his birthday.”

Uttering the name of that reptile leaves a bitter taste in Kakashi’s mouth, and Asuma can see this. His eyes soften as he notes the silver headed boy’s face drop.

“You okay?” He finds himself spouting before he can control, and gets a half hearted “yeah.” in reply.

They continue their walk in awkward silence until they reach the training grounds, where they forget to say any words to each other until after they have spent an hour sparring. 

As per Hatake’s request, they are back at this particular training ground yet again, just as he had predicted. He isn’t the kind to enjoy leisure often, but when his job graces him with the unrequired present, he likes spending it on this very grassland, either reading his perverse novels or training, but never sitting idle with his terrifying thoughts. Being honest, he holds this place dear to himself, but the memories that come up are too painful to be reminiscented.

Here, they battle, and Asuma finds himself in great disadvantage as it is.

Kakashi’s punches are barely held back by Asuma’s arms, his four chakra natures are capable of outdoing his proficiency in one, even his bunkinjutsu is a greater match and leaves open slits on his dusky skin for blood to ooze out from. The lack of genjutsu for either of them turns out to be the only fair ground they share. By the time the clock strikes twelve, a bruised Asuma opts into forfeiting, and with a pang of envy, he declares Kakashi the winner, who in turn is harbouring way less damage than himself.

“Kurenai should be back by now.” He wheezes, the thought of being in his lovely girlfriend’s arms completely washing over the thought of this defeat his father would not be so proud of. In all honesty, fuck his father. He already took a scrawny orphan under his command, he isn’t doing the old man any more favours.

“Rin should be back as well.” Kakashi mutters, tho it is but a courtesy in her name and not an actual estimation. “Shizune and Gai as well.” He adds, trying to make it sound like he isn’t being exclusive about the girl he is dating. Well, kind of dating.

“What do you say?” Asuma suggests with a slight smile. “Wanna celebrate your victory by taking us all to the movies?”

Per usual, Kakashi snakes a hand down his pouch, withdrawing his wallet and checking the amount he carries before making any promises.

He surrenders a few moments to thinking before moving his head in a consent.

Asuma blinks, since he wasn’t expecting a hard yes.

“Well, let’s go then.” He says as he picks up the last of his shuriken that taint the soft greenery of the training ground.

His words fall on the deaf ears. Kakashi is too busy staring at the sky illuminated by the sun in all its glory, his emotions all but visible in his eyes.

Asuma knows very well what this indicates. He has seen the same haunt in Kakashi’s eyes every time they have been out here during the noon, and he silently curses himself for not calling it a day earlier. Right now, he can’t decide whether forcing his thoughts away would be more cruel than letting him swaddle in them.

“Come on”. He finally bids, believing that a few memories will be more than enough to kill his will for the rest of the day, and Kakashi turns to face him with gratitude, symbolising his understanding for Asuma’s concern.

He takes a hearty last look at the place, and tossing the last of his shuriken down his pouch, he turns his head and follows the Sarutobi away from this nauseating memory junction.

He, however, fails in keeping the thoughts away.

As he walks away, he hears her voice ringing in his ears along with the symphony of the beetles around.

“Man.” She had stretched. “I love it here during summer afternoons.”

Another voice follows hot on trail, this time a premature version of his own tone.

“And why is that?” He had furrowed, annoyance lacing his voice as he turned a page of his book. “Because you know you will find me here and get to annoy the hell out of me?”

“Precisely.” She grinned, mischievousness glinting.

He groaned as he tried to concentrate on his book. She, however, was not in the slightest bit permitting him to do so.

“And then there’s you.” She had begun in a manner of taunting. “Who comes here knowing well enough you’ll find me here but still show up.”

He hadn’t been able to give her a befitting reply back then, and if she were to appear here right now, he still won’t.

He chuckles at his wishful thinking. If she were to show up. Keep dreaming, Hatake. 

He questions himself on why he heard that thought it in her very own childish voice. Most probably because he still has a slight hope developing in depths of his heart, because the lord know he would give away anything to see that happen.

He misses her, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Which movie do you plan on watching?” Asuma’s question brings him back to the reality, but he would much prefer his imagination, because Anko is still alive in there.

Notes:

Reviews. Please. I’m begging you.

Chapter 3

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Summary:

Tenzou has a nightmare. In Konoha, Kakashi’s flashbacks strike him yet again.

Notes:

Here’s your new chapter. There’s slight KakaRin in this one, along with our usual KakaAnko flashbacks. Also there’s lotta blood and gore and floating carcasses, so read on your own risk.

tw: blood and gore. If it’s an issue, try skipping the chunk in italics!

Nothingness is the only word that comes to mind when speaking of this evironment. There is nothing to be seen as far as an eye can garner. Nothing any human being in their sane mind would chose to witness anyways. The sounds are as good as a graveyard at midnight, but unlike the silence of death, peaceful it is not. In all honesty, is it as restless as it could be.The candles do their bare minimum in keeping the haunting at bay, and clearly that is far from sufficient. The illuminate, however, the horrors this place has witnessed just well enough.

From where he stands, beneath him is no floor. Not as far down as his sight goes. He is putting his chakra to use to aid him on standing on what the ground is made of. It is filled with stagnant water, mixed with a red liquid he is unfortunately accustomed to, and in between lie some carcass, both human and animal, just as lifeless as some stepping stones in a pond of blood, their wide open eyes telling the tale of moments before it went dark for them. There is no sound to be heard anywhere, but the victims he sees still have their screams ringing in his ears.

The eerie patterns on the wall are nowhere near symmetrical, and they most probably owe it to the fact that they weren’t pre planned. After all, who plans on corporating dry blood to leave desperate marks on their walls?

He believes he knows who, but the thought takes longer than usual to reach the forefront of his head, because the processing part of his brain is preoccupied in being enveloped in a single state of mind he is all too familiar with.

Fear.

He is afraid, of the undesirable nostalgia this water clogged, stinge filled hallway brings up. He knows this place from a distant memory he never planned to willingly revisit forever long as he remembers it. Who would blame him for wanting that?

But here he is, standing atop a soft surface he knows is a body with a face he will recognise, but just cannot stare down to. By the feel of it, he was probably a bit on the chubby sides due to the experiments performed on his still alive body, because lord knows no one here gets a full meal that could satisfy the hunger. He was a male, offcourse. He pressurises his step on the person, and when the only sound that reaches him is that of liquid oozing out from lord knows where in his body, the little hope he has for him vanishes. He still has his respect for the person, though, so he will present them with whatever bare minimum of respect that he can.

He steps down from the body without looking. The ripples of his footsteps echo and amplify through the entirety of the surroundings, falling on the deaf years of everyone save the only living creature in the room.

His body is trembling, his breathing is hitched, and he can feel a vomit rising along his oesophagus. Nausea is perforating into his systems, and what anybody in situation like this requires, he desires the same; to get away from this horrific scenario before it brands itself into his mind permanently. That is, if it hasn’t already.

But regretfully, it will not be as simple as one would estimate. His ears were too busy catching any activity at its base, searching for ripples far too complex for these morbid husks of once alive creatures to create.

The truth is, that he is a prey, just like these moulds of rotten flesh around him were, and his predator is busy stalking him as he listens. 

It’s merely a moment after when he hears the blood infested water produce waves, and his own blood immediately runs cold. Fresh droplets of sweat appear on his temple despite the cold atmosphere he is covered with, and his eyes are as wide as they can be while he peeps at the rise and fall in the pungent liquid, and far away from himself, he finally sees him making his cursed presence known, stepping away from the shadows.

He immediately sets about shivering in the purest form of fright. His ebony eyes stare at the being in front while having precipitation clouding their view. Its form is blurry, but the soul shaking grin it wears is still feasible.

And so are its reptilian eyes that seem to be staring right into his very core, disregarding every layer of defence he has put up and letting him know that his fear has been acknowledged.

And then, as he gazes on in absolute terror, it’s mouth moves.

“There you are, expirement number 28904.” It hisses in the same, snake like voice of his that used to cause him to urinate in his pants, fear for his life shining as clear as day outside this puterate chamber.

“I have been looking for you all over.” It chides, as if it isn’t the same existence that has confined him in this living hell and rather a worrisome parent. If he isn’t mistaken, it is the reason he doesn’t have any parents or family to confine in.

His quivering mouth begans to move, but he is not able to open it on command. His mouth won’t budge, but he has already started release the sound behind. In the end, all the snake hears is an endless chant of choked mumbling, his sound failing him post a few seconds as his vision gets blockaded yet again. This time, the glycerine comes from his very eyes. He is crying, wordlessly begging for himself, even if he has long given up on hope.

The sadist creature just allows his grin to widen as he moves a carcass away with his leg and the object complies without any protest, life long snatched out of it.

“Now, let’s take you back to the lab where you belong.”

The way it disregards him as a mere belonging, he has no time to object on it. Because the next thing he knows, he is staring at the creature right in the eye, its yellow pupils the only thing he can see as it somehow crossed all the distance between in a blink.

And there’s blackness all around. The yellow retinas face into nothing, the glow of the candles is gone. Eternal darkness is all their is to see, as far as the eye goes.

He finally finds his tongue. He screams, but his voice never reaches his own ears, neither does any of roaring cries following that.

He is nothing. He is not living. He is not a human. He is just experiment 28904, a nameless object at the mercy of his cruel master. There is no way out for him.

“Hah!”

When he jolts awake, it is with a loud gasp, heart beating rashly in his chest, paranoia lento corrupting the entirety of his being in this factual dimension as well. His trembling hands are ajoined, indicating to him that he was on the verge of gathering a jutsu in order to defend himself from what turned out to be a nightmare.

It was all just a nightmare.

Breathing comes easy to him now, so he is seizing large chunks of air in each time and exhaling just as heavily. Droplets of sweat enfold his brow, he can feel the slight itch they cause. With his eyes open to the reality, he takes a hasty look around his surroundings. The sight of wooden panels, which are a far cry from that blood laden room, offers some assurance. Bits of memory float in, and soon, he registers his environment as the sailboat which has been tasked with taking him and his comrades to the destination of their mission in the land of water.

His heart begins to sway in what is a tremendous relief to himself.

It was all just a dream. 

Flashes of what he just witnessed engulf him. His hands seperate, and one of them wills forward to support his falling forehead, while the other resolves to the fabric over his chest, determined to trace the rumbling heartbeat until it has normalised yet again.

He feels nervousness girdling himself still, and that does not go away once he hears the door to his chamber being swiftly turned. Their worried cries tell him precisely who awaits on the outside, and those two are certainly not Orochimaru. He is safe with them, he knows, but he is yet to feel the calm one feels at being enwreathed by those who protect. 

The sounds of his door being banged against the wall and two of his fellow leaf nin barging in mix with his hitched breathing. He runs the hand at his forehead all over his brown locks before dropping it to his side, though the one monitoring his heart rate stays on its place consistently. Labourously, he focuses his attention away from the visit the mortifying ghastliness of his once life just payed him, and onto the two jonin standing at his door, weapons ready, eyes vigilant, and calling at him in trepidation.

“What happened?” The taller one among the two furrows gravely, his long brunet tresses falling over his forehead due to the lack of time to tie his trademark bandanna. He accumulates a kunai in one hand, while the other one is set to commence conjuring up seals right off the bat. His eyes are narrowed and his sight is scattered, prepared to detect even a marginal commotion at all. The one who is present behind him is not as much focused on the surroundings as he is on him, observing the boy curled up in the bed in what can only be described as an aware sort of perturbation. He, too, has composed himself to greet an invader, both hands put together to devise a fire sign most likely.

The boy stares at both of them, instantaneously au fait to the fact that he is their centre of attention. Their eyes settle on him, expecting an answer for the unmannered behaviour, and he would much prefer if it were not so. But well, he called this situation upon himself through freaking what turned out to be not only himself, but his partners as well. The least he can do is ease their worriments and apologise for waking them up at such an ungodly hour.  

His gaze immediately drops, and meekly enough, he attempts mumbling an explanation for himself.

“I-” He swallows, and hesitates, before muttering “I’m sorry. It was just a, bad dream.”

It feels like an oversimplification, because merely a dream it was not. But he hardly knows how to say “I had a horrible nightmare about Orochimaru” without sounding like he is a spineless idiot who has no business being a ninja whatsoever. Truth be told, releasing as meagre information as he did, he can bet that they are certain of his cowardice already.

If that is what truly is, the two boys amendedly don’t show it. The two merely level their eyes onto each other, and with a brief consensual gaze, and grant him a look of empathy.

“Alright.” Genma states while relaxing reluctantly, graze still travelling around the room to ensure that any oddity does not go unnoticed.

“You think you’ll be able to sleep again tonight?” Obito queries, and he can not get himself to say anything other than a half hearted yes.

“I believe so.” He lies through his teeth.

“Well, alright then.” Genma shrugs, now entirely eased, even if still unwieldy, and brings forth an arm to reach for the door he had dubiously shattered. Thankfully, its hinges have not extracted themselves.

“Goodnight.”

“And sorry for the trouble.” The Uchiha adds in a cumbersome manner. He gets nothing more than a polite, low voiced acknowledgment as a reply.

As the door is shut, he puts a scrupulous ear to he sounds of their footsteps, and once they are far enough, he gives out a small gasp of relief, and he feels his heartbeat regularising to an extent.

His head hits the pillow softly, and even though he is unwilling, he strives putting himself to sleep yet again. He doesn’t wish to do so, in any case. But he believes he has little choice under the unfavouring circumstances that seem to entangle him. Not that he can leave the assail boat and go back to Konoha for a pep talk with Kakashi. He wishes, but that is not a possible scenario.

With a sigh, he prepares to greet whatever memoirs his consciousness throws at him this time, even if they are almost never pleasant.

 

************************

“Talk about awkward.” Genma mumbles in an undertone, stealing a peak of the now shut door behind him. 

“You know he’s shy.” Obito reasons, trying to defend the boy from this moderately snide comment. 

And true it is. Of all the words either ravenet or brunet can think of, shy would be the most veristic one, and that is merely owed to the point that they barely know him enough to describe him as something else. He simply cloisters himself around them, but it hardly is his fault. Everyone of them is well versed of that, and they provide him with plenty of space for that argument, even if it has turned out to be irksome after two years of following the practice.

Genma raises an eyebrow to his protectiveness, but he does not covet much to dig deeper into it either ways. After all, he has other important businesses to tend to. Getting enough sleep, to name one

That is when the sound of the Uchiha’s stomach rumbling vigorously is heard, followed by a daunting grin of its master which radiates some second hand embarrassment on to the brunet as well.

“You hungry?” The Shiranui instead questions, effort to withdraw an honest answer almost non existent as he turns on his heels and strolls towards the pantry instead, a great ful looking Obito following him like a sheep.

 

***************

If Kakashi claims that he is having a good time worth of his money, it would necessitate for him to be blatantly dishonest.

As far as it goes for his friends, all of them are invested in the movie in front, with Gai taking it maybe a tad bit more personally than he should. The way heavy drops of tears fall down from his eyes as he suppresses sobs says it all. Surely, Asuma is not to be blamed for hiding behind his hand while grumbling what is most likely the kind of language people with children will not be very receptive of.

On another note, the theatre is a mess. It would be a adamant judgement to make if he is to conclude that the workers here did not bother to sweep the the theater post the previous show, or maybe even the show before that. The lumps of garbage on the floor yell their testimony to this fact. He gingerly shuffles his feet to rid them of the bits of popcorn that someone with the IQ of a baboon must have littered, and eventually ends up stepping into something uncomfortably wet. He barely holds back an irritated groan at this. It does not smell any better either.

He senses the head next to his turn, and realises that the individual is beginning to address him as he revolves to return the observation.

There she is. Kakashi can not help but smile as he notes the glow on her face, something he would consider far more endearing than the bland drama in front of him. Her almond eyes are ashone in excitement, reflections of his own features somewhat manageable in those deep woods. Her cherry lipstick is spread along with the rest of her lips in a smile, serving as a compliment to her short, brunette hair. 

What he conjectures, is offcourse that she is nothing short of beautiful, even in this dim atmosphere.

“It is turning out to be really interesting, isn’t it?” She whispers, expecting a positive feedback which he cannot help but deliver. It is evident why she is ensuring; she can tell that the film has half bored him to death.

“It is. I can’t wait to see what she will say.” He gives off a smile, but he doubts that it reaches his eyes at all despite his attempts, because her bright face dims down just for a moment after he has given his piece of mind. Truly, he can hide nothing from her.

She brings forward her hand, and he takes it in his own, interlacing their fingers in a way that would ensure that they stay put. Her face instantly lights up on the point.

With her other hand, she motions for him to will forward, and resting his elbow on the armrest, he brings his ear forth for her to whisper her thought in.

“Don’t worry.” She breathes. “It’s just fifteen more minutes. You don’t have to stay a moment once it is over.”

He wonders it he should let her know that he is very much willing to drop her home, or even take her to a short outing to the nearby café if she wishes. But ultimately, he decides that such proposals can wait until after she has watched the film, because it is apparent that she does indeed enjoy it. How she doesn’t even schedule for his reply (which has to be a first) and immediate reverts to watching is enough to say for it.

The movie is, offcourse, distant from anything of his penchant, and she can vouch for it. True, he is a fanatic for romance, but what goes onto the screen in front of him is not what he would typically include in his interest. For one thing, he seldom finds himself enthralled with stories regarding persuasive exes and indecisive love interests, but that is the exact same direction that this one is racing in. So his annoyance is well justified as he tries making a head and tail out of the poorly executed mess.

“If you leave me, I will end myself” ugh. What are you, a child? Move the fuck on, she’s getting married here. You brought this upon yourself.

Wait, you’re actually planning on saying yes to this self centered idiot? Are you stupid or something? What about the perfectly fine guy waiting for you at altar?

I’m sorry my guy, but that crazy bitch just ran away with her manipulative ex. Hard luck. Wish you best of luck for when they get divorced though. 

He can not help himself as his keenness waivers away yet again, like it has been for the past two and a half hours. His ears resist the voices recoiling off the mighty speakers; he does not require for that trashy dialogue delivery to be struck inside his conscious. His eyes shift, and yet again he finds himself counting the number of heads that protrude in this mostly vacant movie hall. Twenty six people, including his ownself and the five he came with. There is no wonder why no one has dared showing up for this pathetic excuse of a ‘romantic comedy’. It is contributing more in causing him stress than excusing some off of him.

Exhaling lowly to not make his disinterest general like some sort of asshole, he reclines onto his lounge chair to the point where his spine comes to contact with its soft back. He rotates his head upwards, his line of perception perpendicular to the projection that reels onto the back room. It amazes him, the number of times he has resorted to this very same activity whilst showing off his detest for being dragged into watching a movie.

Gradually, he closes his eyes, the sounds of his fingers mindlessly tapping against the armrests being the only one he is consuming willingly, along with the gentle feel of Rin’s hand against his own. 

And before long, he finds himself engrossed in yet another trip down the memory lane, her shrill, child like voice pouring into his head.

“The fuck are you doing?” She whispers angrily, boring into his skull rather than the movie running against the gigantic screen in front.

He frowns, but his mask pretty much conceals the expression. He supposes he can instruct her on using more ladylike language, but he is well reminded of the fact that she is not inclined to take it in a positive manner.

“Didn’t we come here to watch a movie?” She retorts while ensuring that her upbraiding is not ruining the experience for any other movie goers. 

“It’s boring.” He briefs, lips still quirked downwards, fingers callously tapping against the armrests. He wonders if she can tell that he is lying or not. In all honesty, a guy and a girl going all out on each other is hardly anything shy of exciting. He would love to watch it under any other circumstance. It is just that he cannot take the chance of letting her big mouth disclose the word about him being an unabashed degenerate. He may not show it, but he very much cares for his reputation.

His eyes slide down to match her gaze. She continues to lour at him, jaws locked and eyes narrowed. Kakashi is not defenetive of what emotion it is that she is trying to convey, but if looks could kill, he would not survive long enough to ponder anyways.

Finally, she clarifies it on her own.

“I can’t believe you.” She spits, hands clenching the armrests. “First you bring me to watch this cheap porno of a film, then you don’t even watch it.” 

When he proves to be unwilling to be debunking her complain, her head shoots back to the front, and her arms fold across her chest with an audible grunt. Absent-mindedly, she gathers a handful of popcorn from the box (which she most certainly did not purvey him a hundred times in order to catch a glimpse behind his mask) on her lap and shoves it inside her mouth, chewing soundly, which justifiably revolts him. While munching, she passive aggressively comments something that is more or less an assurance of heart attack to him.

“So much for a first date. It totally sucks.” 

“For the millionth time,” He moans loudly, causing all the focus to shift on him rather than the screen that plays in front of him.(not in a kindly way, offcourse). He ignores all of it, but is mindful enough to not disturb anyone’s peace anymore. 

“This isn’t a date, Mitarashi.”

He heartily skips his attention to the ceiling yet again, struggling to keep his pique to self and not the sly looks his friend is passing.

That is when he feels a sensation, that of skin rubbing against his gloved hand. His alert eyes arrive on the sight before any reflexive attack can, and there he beholds the sight of another hand gently grasping his own, and once he realises whose it is, he looks up at the owner with wide eyes, her cunning gleaming in her grin.

“Well, now it’s a date.”

A thin chuckle resounds as it escapes from his lips; the fond memory has guaranteed one of them every time it is revisited. The scenery of what followed rushes in front of his eyes. 

In wake of him having choked on thin air and having everyone in theater stare at them in aggravation, he had to spend the rest of the evening convincing her that he had not planned for the rest of their friends to withdraw on the last minute and be alone with her. (As the fate would have it, it was Obito’s plan, and he received a loud earful from the Hatake while accepting a high five from Minato.) She definitively did not buy his claims, her wicked comments that were making him go red said so.

Cautiously, he steers a look Rin’s way, taking in at how giddy she appears while her eyes stay glue on the cinema screen, then down at their intervening hands. Sometimes, he feels curious to the fact whether it would be considered cheating for him to have Anko, who died seven years ago, constantly haunting her memories while he is in a relationship with this girl sitting next to him. He knows that she for one deserves better than being someone’s second choice, but if she is willing to put up with him, he cannot get himself to ever say anything other than a heartfelt ‘Thank you.’

A smile forms on his lips as he yet again prepares to take a dive down into his thoughts. The environment he sits in is all but forgotten, he could not care less for who is appealing on the humongous projection in front of him, nor does he care to look at the perfect woman holding his hand. He is zoning out, back into the very same moments that hurt him every time he revisits.

The sensation to those times is bittersweet, and he mindlessly focuses at the screen in front of him as the credits roll, while failing to rid himself of the strong reminders this place holds of hers.

This time, he sighs loudly, though hardly anyone diverts their keenness to him, his own friends brushing it off as nothing other than his disinterest to the cinematic endeavour. He wishes there was a way for him to leave those memories of the two of them sitting together in this theater itself.

Notes:

See that comment box? Type something about your experience there so I can know how my work is appealing to you :)

Chapter 4

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Summary:

Orochimaru prepares to welcome the intruders to his land.

Notes:

New chapter, don’t care :/
If you do care, please leave a comment😭

a/n: tw: blood and gore. If it’s an issue, skip until the italics are gone!

Silence. The encompassing is as still as if it desires to be given up for deserted. Nothing to be heard as far as the audability goes. The calm is too deaf to be refined as soothing. No, it is more suitable to be deciphered as something that toys with a person’s sanity, draining him to the point he is most likely to end up deranged, with the droplets of conscious crying for help and only having his own echo rebound to his aid.

It is thus to be forgiven that any living being passing by would be impassive to this room, presumably believing it to be unoccupied. That, however, is not the case for the inhabitants of this cursed asylum. They are forced to be more aware than that. To them, quietness is the biggest indicator of any being’s presence.

That is accurately the veering this time as well. The silence is not same as solace, for a creature thrives here, his snake like eyes laced with affection onto the creature latched to his arm. Its scaled body tightens around his limb to the point it goes immobile, but he hardly cares for it. After all, it is only feeds his twisted, sadistic tendencies.

Calmly, he brings forth his free hand in order to admire the reptilian being, and attempts tickling the composed creature as it whirs its tongue in enjoyment.

“You really do love playing with me, don’t you?” He concludes, in the same husky voice that tends to send jitters down the spines of everyone save a few braveheart confidants of this creature, and as if on cue, the snake hisses. His jollyness grows.

“Well, as much as I would love to entertain my dear pet, it is not possible for me right now.” He replies with just enough disappointment in his voice for the animal to comprehend. 

“For I must finish working on this first.” His sad eyes gaze down onto the dead body that lays on his operating table, its bones neatly separated from the rest of the flesh save for a few blood red spots observable at a few destinations. 

He needs a new skeleton, and apparently creating one for himself is the most amiable method to him.

The animal on his forearm stares at the objectified death onto the operation table, then steers its sights back on the man in a surgeon’s gear staring at it woefully. What follows is the snake relaxing its grip onto the limb, than abandoning it at all as it slithers down and scales away, receding towards its burrow that lies within the walls of this very room.

“Good boy.” He does not forget to compliment the reptile as the last of it disappear into the small hole in the walls. Then, with a satisfied smirk and a hum, he continues dissecting the fresh corpse of its muscular remains.

His peace doesn’t last long. Just after he is finished clearing the femur, he hears a gentle tapping against the entrance of his theatre, indicating the intrusion of any unwanted subject. Naturally, he sneers.

“Come in.” He commands, amend that if they don’t have a good enough reason for this misconduct, they won’t be living to see the light of tomorrow.

The sounds that follow are that of the door handle being turned, and the wooden panel swaying away from its frame with a disturbing noise. Without throwing as much as a glance, he can predict precisely who has dared to disturb his quite.

The intruder, on the other hand, stands without uttering a single word, hoping to be recognised amidst the quite that she has chosen to partake in. Once it becomes palpable that she would not be bestowed by any such honour, however, she decides that making him wait is not too ideal of a choice.

Lowering her ebony eyes, she focuses on his heels while uttering, “My lord.”

“State your business.” He bids. Even though he is still looking away, she realises through his tone that he is not taking to this trespassing particularly kindly. Fortunately, she has a good enough reason for the mannerism she has shown.

Holding her breath, she recites, “A shinobi we had captured from the hidden leaf escaped this morning.” Her voice falters by the end of her sentence, exposing the fact that she is frightful. Could she be blamed for it?

As he works his way up the newly dead carcass, he fails to show any sign of alertness at all, let alone rage. Patiently, she waits for any sign of order from him, apprehensively tucking the locks of blue hair behind her ears for the mere purpose of keeping herself occupied.

Gradually, he does stir, much to her relief.

“Any idea as to how he managed to perform this feat?” He furrows while taking bits of flesh onto his tweezers and discarding them.

She starts, and brittly replies “From what the aftermath has to say, he killed his gaurd with fire style and then left by blowing open his cell.”

He raises a single eyebrow, indicating all the astonishment he has to the fact. Guess he had the moment waiting around the corner when he decided to deploy the weakest of his recruitment for shielding an Uchiha of all people.

“My lord.” She dares to speak up after garnering some much needed courage. Generally, she would not try him, but she knows that her piece of mind might prove crucial. He indicates that he is listening.

“This is the twenty third leaf nin to escape this year. Thirty ninth of the total shinobi.” She puts forward just as her bravery starts to drain. “Don’t you think that it means something?”

He is well aware of what she is trying to imply, she has attempted the same allegations in past as well. As such, he knows just what kind of vile fuels them. True, he too is upset by the news of his Sharighan escaping, irked infact, but he knows better than to buy into her words.

“It means that trained jonin are more powerful than my failed experiments.” He counters just as affectively. True, he gives the task of guarding the shinobi folks to weakest link in his asylums, simply due to the fact that he does not wish to lose his more precious collectibles to the seasoned nin, such as the one standing behind him throwing accusations.

She is quite now. Offcourse, she has a counterpoint to what he has declared, but she doubts that winning the argument is actually worth losing his favours. Downtrodden, she continues to stare blankly at the blood spattered tiles beneath her, until she is forced to put an ear to him yet again.

“Will that be all?” He ponders, hoping to get a positive reply in retrospect.

She blinks. “Actually, there is one more detail that I must share.”

“Which would be?” He leers, growing noticeably restless at this point.

“Our source in the land of water noticed a ship heading towards our base north of the Kiri. The travellers on it are three leaf nin most likely to reach the place by tomorrow morning.” She mutters in one go, barely keeping the air in her lungs.

This time, he shuts himself altogether.

His tweezer weilding hand rests midair, then slowly, it recedes down to relax by his side. 

For the first few moments, he remains engaged to his thoughts. The ninja of the five great nations have always proven to be a tougher match, even more so in the scenario of the ones belonging to  the leaf. He doubts that he owes it to being an ex patriot of the land, however. Maybe more to the tiring training routines the forth Hokage is making them go through.

It confounds him how a single thought of the blond is still enough to fixate a scowl on his mouth. After all, he is certainly among the category of people to hold a grudge.

Nevertheless, the base Guren is referring to is nothing short of one the most prominent one he has to offer, with various hybrids developing in the test tubes and just one pathetic excuse of a genjutsu caster keeping an eye on the danger. Certainly, he needs to dispatch a batch more reliable than that if he wishes to witness the true result of his years worth of hardwork.

Surrendering another moment to his train of thoughts, he leaps to the important that must be answered before any sort of ordeal is passed.

“Any idea on their status?” 

Sure enough, she does.

“By the description of the uniforms, there are two ANBU black ops and one special jonin. On top of that, one ANBU is a member of the Uchiha clan.”

During the extent of this pretty one sided dialogue, the last line is by far his least favourite, even if it happens to be the one challenging his pique the most. Evidently, a twisted frown graces itself on his face. 

The other ANBU and special jonin are going to require someone of the same level as one of the sound four, Kabuto or Guren herself, but those red eyes might prove to be leaf’s ace in the sleeve. Every uchiha differs in ability, but he is well aware of the three amongst the ANBU status accord during the recent years. All three of them are one up the other one, and other than the possible exception of the terminally ill Kimimaro and his own self, he does not condecend any one levelling with the Uchiha. 

That is, if he wasn’t naturally weak to Genjutsu for one thing. All three of the Uchiha prodigies have unlocked their Mangekyou Sharighan, one of them even owed it to him. They are notorious as the top of their game Genjustsu casters in the land of fire, arguably even among the five great nations, and thus well above the grasp of himself and this weak body he harbours in as of present. Adding to it is the salt of the fact that his body transfer is still one good month away. His scowl deepens as impatience swallows him.

In other words, he is going to require someone who can counter a top notch Uchiha; high on chakra reserve, resistant to Genjutsu, well versed in both water and earth style, and proficient in every form of attack all the way from close to long range.

Unastonishingly, he is in possession of one such person. And call it luck, but she also happens to be the one person he cannot take a chance with.

For minutes to pass, he remains cosset in his musings, contemplating whether the low rate of success hybrid results are truly worth dispatching his highest jewel, his first and most glorious success. But on the other hand, she also happens to be the only person in the entirety of his asylum capable of going toe to toe with Kimimaro, thus her being in the same league as the highest of the ANBU officials is not a claim to be doubted. Plus, there is a one on three chance that the element of surprise her presence brings might result in unrequirment of a battle at all.

In the finality of his mental debate with the self, he announces the result to the unsure woman behind him.

“Take experiment number 0241 and make sure that they don’t set their feet on that island.”

 

———————

 

His eyes jolt open with a start, and he finds himself gasping for air as soon as he wakes up to the dimension of reality. Callously, his wide open eyes stare around to pinpoint him sitting on the ledge of a ship, broad afternoon boring into his skull and rewarding him with a headache. Not unexpectedly, he is gripping the wooden railing and almost blistering his fingers due to the rough surface.

Apparently, his lack of sleep has consistently run its course on him, and he had ended up falling asleep while gazing at the undeserving waters.

Furiously, his eyes travel to the far side of the ship, and to his relief there stands his fellow leaf nin,  eyeing him inspectingly and appearing somewhat critical of his unmanly stance.

“Another nightmare?” He puts forth, raising an eyebrow and chewing on the metal between his teeth.

Customarily, he feels embarrasment seeping into himself. Twice within a period of two days has he etched himself as a coward in Genma senpai’s memory, and he cannot view how it will not affect his image of him.

“Y-yes.” He finds himself stumbling, face fallen an stressed.

Candidly, what the older boy professes next astonishes him.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of it, y’know.” He mumbles, uninterested eyes glazing elsewhere. “PTSD is not your fault. We understand.”

For the time being, he continues to stare at his senior in awe, and Genma takes his silence as a hint to continue.

“And you should know, you are free to opt out of missions such as this one if your situation is so dire.”

What Genma fails to release is that what is meant to be a mere well wisher’s suggestion falls on Tenzou’s ears as nothing short of a scornful reprimand, and it is with extreme timidness that the younger brunet suppresses his urge to turn down the offer. A short “okay” is all he gets in the reply.

Before the atmosphere the between the duo can turn awry (after all, the chatterbox of the group is busy stuffing his face), Genma turns his face away, and with low zeal, he aimfully glares at the dot of an distance island sending a chilling glare back.

“We should reach there by tomorrow.” He comments, and resorts to not paying heed to the frightened “Y-yes.” that recounts his words.

 

————————

They sit in moderate silence, which is neither too ill at ease and nor undauntingly agreeable. Her eyes are preoccupied in capturing her surroundings, which he supposes is due to the fact that this coffee house is a relatively newer addition and they have not been here on pretext. He, however, does not indulge in the same.

Kakashi barely keeps himself from gawking at the woman in front of him. She is beautiful, always has been. Her almond eyes carry the deepest care and love for him even when they are directed otherways. He cannot be more greatful for her to bestow him with such adoration in the face of him not returning the favour for several long years. He doubts that any amount of gratitude will suffice the heaps of pain she has subjected herself to in this conquest of loving him.

He notes that her chestnut eyes are now directed to him, and starts as she questions in her usual, alluring manner;

“What would you like to have?”

This is when he takes the heed of the woman standing adjacent to their table (very unbecoming of a shinobi, he knows), smiling sweetly and patiently holding a notepad in order to scribble their commands onto it.

“Oh,” He merely conjectures before hastily staring at the forgotten menu clasped in his hands. 

“One black coffee, please.” He requests without even properly looking, amend that every coffee house must have one of those.

The woman writes the order down, then with a friendly smile, turns to face the brunette and comprehend her order.

“I’ll have a cup of iced tea, thank you.” She chirps in her usual friendly manner. 

Once the waitress has taken a good distance from their booth, Rin finally notices the Hatake’s eyes lingering onto her. Naturally, she flushes.

“Wha-what is it?” She stumbles as her features continue to grasp on a scarlet hue.

Kakashi believes that now he is dating her, he has no reason to conceal where his train of thoughts is heading. His eyes travel down on her trembling hand across the table.

“You look beautiful, Rin.” He replies huskily, extending his arm so that his hand is encompassing hers.

Her widened eyes continue to rest onto his face as she morphed into a deep red complexion, leading to him realising that this is the first time he has given her this piece of his mind. The redness on her face amuses him, and he finds himself caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Shortly, her lips force themselves into mumbling a mousy “Thank you.”

What she must be feeling, he is well aware of it. He has experienced the same feeling, though it was long before he would have even brought dating Rin into consideration.

“So this is what you look like, huh?” The mischevious glint in her voice is not to be missed. 

Once he puts the bottle down and wipes his mouth, he can behold for himself her unfaltering grin accompanying it. What appears to be a faint redness is present as well, tho he cannot verify whether it is because of the heat or not. He feels his own self blushing at the fact that his face is exposed to her, and shabbily he reaches for the mask resting at the base of his neck, only for her to firmly grasp it and make sure that he does nothing to hinder her view.

Then, as his fearing eyes look on, she professes, “Damn, Hatake. You’re hot.” 

It is not until after this has been played inside his mind does he realise the fact that he had been thinking about Anko while being on a date with Rin dawns on him. Then, disregarding the condition of the moment, he finds himself letting out a cold sigh. It is the third time today that he has allowed her thoughts to plague his mind, and it isn’t even evening yet.

Rin, who has been more focused on him for the past moments, unpretentiously takes a heed of the gesture. Offcourse, it does not please her. With her blush failing and her brow slightly knitted, she now reciprocates his hand holding, and with his tired eyes meet up to her concerned ones, she instantly questions,

“Is something bothering you?” 

Kakashi is not startled by her awareness. She has always been mindful of her surroundings. Whenever there is any kind of emotion at rise, this little teammate of his will be the first one to uncover. Though it is highly unclear to him whether bringing up the issue on his mind is a good plan. To tell his date that he is daydreaming about his puppy love that died years ago? He knows better than to ratify it as a good idea.

Prior to him being able to derive any sort of excusing, however, his empathic friend gives him a look that symbolises realisation, and naturally her features commence to steadily fall dull, much to his stratlement. He can’t be that attemptlessly readable. Can he?

As it would turn out to be, he is. Rin’s now lacklustre eyes travel away, far from his face, and onto the glass that daunts on the wall parallel to their booth, observing the outside world half heartedly. Her almond eyes don’t shimmer at the sight of gleeful children wallowing around in the outside street, like they are programmed to. On the contrary, they discontinuesly stare into an oblivion, their owner deep in her own thoughts. The rue in her gaze is not to be missed, and to proclaim that he feels guilt for the same would not be incorrect at all.

If he is harbouring any doubt regarding her being conversant of the muddle of his conscious, it repels itself when she puts forth her question, in a sympathetic tone,

“You’re.....” She hesitates, unsure of whether the wound is still fresh, tho she finally gets herself to plead.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Her meekly dainty undertone reveals that her throat is heavy, sorrow of her own seeping through. Just the mere use of the word ‘again’ is content to upbraid him of the fact that this practice has become substantially more habitual than he should have permitted it to be. It makes him desire to let out a grunt of frustration, but regarding the atmosphere of his seating, he is well aware that he should not.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, a heartfelt regret laced with a hint of tiredness, making her acknowledge that she is not the only one suffering from his actions. His droopy eyes travel down to their interlocked hands. The fact that she hasn’t loosened her grip fuels him with slight hope.

“Don’t be.” Rin’s words are no demand, but merely a request, albeit a firm one. He feels her rotate her head back, and when he elevates his to cognize that, he is greeted with a frivolous simper, which is heralding to become undone at any given moment. Seconds later, as a perplexed Hatake watches, she lets out a cold sigh.

“You miss her.” She states, a plain truth unforeseen to no one. What amazes him is the lack of any negative emotion at all, with the exception of sheer pity. “I do too.” She further professes, and without a shadow of second thoughts, he believes her claim.

“It’s natural for you to mourn. You loved her. You still do.” She further adds, reflecting her understanding satisfactorily, sans any jealousy at all. It causes his heart to leap when he takes heed of the pureness she houses. He can kiss her for the grace, even if it is piously out of gratitude.

“But you know what, Kakashi?” Her hold of his gauntlet covered hand tightens, and he retires his unblinking sights onto her, surrendering his full concentration on the words he desperately needs to hear.All her emotions are callously poured down into her next sentence.

“You cannot allow yourself to remain fixated on her.” She halts, just to double check she hasn’t pressed any nerves. “Wherever she is, Anko would not be happy to see you suffer like this.”

He is all too familiar with her saying. He has forced himself into eating the same words himself over and over again. Ritualistically, religiously, rigorously. He keeps on informing himself that what he is doing must be insensitive to her soul. But the issue is, he is weak. So ruefully weak of mind. Coming from his own self, it sounds nothing short of a miserable alibi for not thinking of her. The result, he ends up entangled in her thoughts even more so, wishing for nothing other than her presence as a few tears escape his eyes. He despises the condition he is in, but there is no solution to it as far as his pitiful eyes go.

He knows that Rin’s defence will turn out to be useless in the long run as well, but for the moment being, he would prefer to enjoy the faux solace it provides.

As his eyes linger onto her expressive, deep brown ones, anticipating sort of answer from him as they focus on, he finds himself ticking of his previous thought again. Someone as beautiful, as mindful, as kind as her. Does she truly deserve to undergo a union as dreadful as the one he is providing her? To be forced into being his moral support? He has made certain to pass on the kangaroo judgement that she doesn’t. She is not worthy of anything short of all the love being showered onto her, and the only one he believes to be capable of bestowing that onto her is a certain someone with a tongue longer than his entire height.

Mentally, he sighs, recalling the jolly facade Obito was putting on when Gai had unintentionally disclosed their dating status, and the way he had cried onto his shoulder under intoxication all but broke his heart. He had sobbed as well, in the wake of his best friend’s lost love, something he himself was responsible for, even though Obito had out of the blue slapped him when he had tried to blame himself for his ruin.

Both of the men have always known, the final decision of the love triangle lied to its main focus, who happens to be Rin, and after rejecting Obito’s advances so many times and grasping onto his single one, she made it crystal clear where her heart is at.

To think that she would love him after the incoherent mess he has let himself degrade into, he cannot help the warmth that flutters in his chest. She loves him unconditionally, always wants the best for him, and never once has she delivered the slightest tinge of a pity party for self despite the rocky relationship he has assumed theirs to be. In all honesty, she might be the best thing to ever happen to him. The thought brings a lasting smile to his visage, and there is but one word that can decipher what he feels.

As she stares on, he relaxedly outstretches his other arm as well, bringing her singular one in embrace of both his palms, and then, as the anticipation in her eyes enhances, he huskily says,

“Thank you, Rin.” Graciousness drips from his eyes, and Rin barely conceals the smile it brings on her face, to know that her emotions are appreciated, that they bring him joy. It staggers him how he can spare every single detail from his train of thoughts and she can still pinpoint exactly what he is thinking about. Truly, she is one of a kind.

“You’re welcome.” She replies, her voice transparent to the love she feels for him. Then, she whirls to softly guide him away from the emotional junction they are on just the next moment by pretending that a bright idea has just struck her.

“Hey, you’re free tonight, aren’t you?” She asserts, and he plasters a thinly hidden smirk behind his mask.

“Why, you got any special plans?” He coos sauvely, drumming his fingers over her hand suggestively. Immediately, whatever marvellous plan she had darts out of the window and she blushes harder than he has ever seen anyone blush.

“No!” She shrieks, bringing an array of unwanted attention their ways. He chuckles. It won’t hurt for him to milk some humour at her expense now, would it?

“I- I was just planning on suggesting a double date with Asuma and Kurenai!” She hurriedly wheels, trying to clear her name as much as she can. She lets out a sigh of relief when his feline expression tames down.

With a genuine smile this time, he recounts, “That would be nice.”

Notes:

Waiting for your precious reviews :)
Goal: two comments on the chapter. (Help me fulfil this pls)

Chapter 5: Noticeeeee

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

You guys were expecting a new chapter, but it was actually I,DIO!! AHAHAHA— *gets hit by a sandal*

yeahhhhhh, ik y’all are mad at the note I left the story on, and madder on this faux update, but the thing is, I’ve been busy. I have my final year of school going on, which means exams conducted by the central board of education, which means competition with literally almost every final year student of my country. I have to get an A+ or I get disowned, just like every brown kid does 🥲🙏🏻

March will mark the end of my misery, after which I’ll have to start exploiting myself for the Law entrance test, since I currently aim for the most prestigious law school in the country I’ll have to work EXTRA hard.

so yeah, I’m preeeeetty busy until May (nooooooooo). But I promise an update soon after. Stay patient fam🙁

I’ll try to improve my writing style in the meanwhile, because the way those previous chapters were left room for a LOT because of how rushed I felt they were. Do leave your views if I should get into more detailing and stretch The search party’s arrival on Orochimaru’s island to a bit later.

meanwhile, I don’t want you guys feeling down, so here’s a sneak peak at next (or one of the next) chapter!!

 

“Ah!” She squeaks, lowly yet sharply, eyes wide with inquetude and hands halfway prepared to devise a suitable seal for the attacker. Her breathing switches to wheezing and the hair on her skin all but eject. The tickle on her right foot, cause of her current perturbation, lingers while her vigilant sights swish in every direction they can, dim light scanning every visible corner in the name of her parole.

It takes a few seconds for herself to be consoled. She takes a sharp breath, forcing herself to perpetually relax before choosing any extreme procedures, the one at the forefront of her thinking being sheepishly asking ‘who’s there?’ in accordance to being the loftiest coward to be seen. For all she knows, the assailant that just crossed over her foot could be a mere vector, like incountable that plagues this noxious plethora of a living quarter. She would have indeed driven herself to the same cognisation, if not for the size diversity the inhabitants of this mad house can squeeze themselves into.

As the foreboding in her rhythm larghetto ceases and unwind enrolls yet again, she looks down in pure awe, and as expected, the one to distill her orderliness is nothing other than an insignificant rat, shrewdly darting around in order to escape the sudden blaze of light that her flashlight has to offer. As agony commences penetrating in Guren’s eyes, the unnamed rodent finds itself winning the battle against its overwhelming rival and shoves itself inside the cosy hole in the wall that houses it, safe from the wrath of the clearly offended blunette.

An infuriated grunt escapes her lips when the sound of cackling from an adjacent cell echoes. A no named freak having the gal to ridicule her, unbelievable. It is to no one’s surprise that she despises this place. Who wouldn’t?

The only decoration to the apostatized wasteland, as far as the sight travels, is nothing more than the paltry whistle of the the wind as it howls about the bare scene, battling the afternoon loo personally.

The moribund flashlight is barely complacent to illuminate the cavern amply, let alone bestow the wielder any sense of direction at all.

 

Regards,

Purple Haired Hatake

 

Chapter 6: Revelation

Chapter by Purple_Haired_Hatake (Darth_Redhood)

Summary:

Guess who’s back? Backstreets’s bac— *cough cough* I mean, you know who is back.

Notes:

Hey guyssss!
*sees all of you glaring* *nervous laughs*
So yeah, it took much, much longer than expected. I really wanted to work on my writing style because I was dissatisfied, so here we are, with my writing style….
….still bad.
Anyways, hope you enjoy.

"Village Hidden in de leavsh, eh?"

He nods. Throbbing eyelids narrow on him further.

"Ain't thhat a beit too far frum 'ere?"

The only reply is a seemingly nonchalant shrug, and an unnoticed attempt at breaking the eye contact. Something about that bloodied gaze, there is. Makes him flinch. Even run.

"It is, I guess?"

Yet as ill starred his luck is, raising suspicions is an unalterable no, and flashing away at the dead of the night like a shinobi will not likely be treated with non chalance. Especially not in a demilitarised village.

So, resigning to the fate is all he can do for now. Sadly.

The old man's gaze passes behind him for a few seconds, most likely onto their vessel swaying in the currents, before zeroing onto him again. Said few seconds sway past earlier than they should have.

"Shooo w-hat bringsh ya beig guyzh here eh?"

Tenzou opens his mouth, only for it to not utter a sound as his companion shrieks.

"W-VAIT! DON'T TELL MEHH JUSSHT YET!"

If this man's unwarranted intrusion and his alcoholic reeks were fueling his apprehension, watching him scratch his chin like a cheap detective from master Jiraiya's books certainly doubled the brunet's grimace. Ironically enough, the rag certainly fits the criteria of being an icha icha reader, so master Jiraiya might well be where he got it from.

Scrawny fingers rub against each other in a sorry snap, and Tenzou once again finds himself wondering if keeping the visage at all times is truly that important for this mission or whether breaking it just to knock this old man out would be pardoned.

He knows that he really wishes he could.

"Fur de gurlsh, amirite?"

Now, the man has his attention. And not because of the complete misfire of the guess.

"Excuse me?"

Reddened eyes gleam, with what Tenzou supposes is meant to be mischief.

Supposed to be?

"Ya, knouw, de bebsh?"

The way this man speaks.

Something is not right, because for a complete disaster, the guess undeniably caught him off guard.

And the more he hears him talk, the more he seems to zero near the reason.

"The what?"

This moment, he realises that somewhere in the middle of this conversation, his heart had picked up pace. This man, he is not daunting him for no reason.

Something is gravely wrong here.

"Ohhh" The nasty grin that the old fellow emits sets his skin crawling, and surprisingly the rotting teeth have no part in it.

"Akting oblevehush, are vee?"

"We have already told you, old man."

It seems as if countless minutes have passed before this moment, and he breathes a full breath, his heavy gut ascending steadily as the clicking of heels gets louder. He veers to that like a sunflower to the sun.

"We are traders, it means that we are here for business." The man completes , a finality in his voice and hands hooking away from his hips, each holding a puffy polythene in a way that he seemingly forgot isn't natural.

He is tired alright, because as Obito said, this is not the first time this person has relayed that bit to him. Because this is not the first time this man has come across one of their group, asking questions he has no purpose knowing.

For a black op, the jitters this realisation gave him are tad too much.

Could it be? Could this man...?

If the need to take a good look, just to be sure , was not present he would have left dealing with this fellow entirely to his senior, who happens to be steadier as of the moment.

Atleast, there's a relief that lies in the fact that he is not the only one raising eyebrows here, or there would be no reason for Genma to be lurking on the rooftops, spectating the whole comodrum silently.

"Ya did?" The way those two words are said, it is to make old man seem convoluted, and generally pitiable.

The Uchiha sighs, and grasps his fellow by the shoulder, still disregarding the weight of two full bags in each hand.

"Whatever, we have to get going now. Need us to drop you anywhere?"

The grin that the old man radiates this time seems a lot tamer than the one before. It might have almost fooled him.

"Naah, 'sh okay. I laik ..." A pause ensues, and then "....roaming around in de nightsh."

"Whatever ya say." He nods, and motioning Tenzou with his eyes, strides away, leaving exactly one of them behind but pretending to leave the old man alone in the weakly lit street.

As the old man recedes behind them, Tenzou's sights remain fixated onto him, before flickering upwards to Genma for a brief second, then back to him.

Not that he is not glad to be leaving him behind, but something about the gaze that his bloodshot eyes continue to cast onto them, it restrains him from looking away. Something bone chilling but calling for his attention at the same time.Causing him to send a prayer to make him stop staring and a hope to just look long enough to find his answer.

Is it the urge to glare till recollection hits? or just to find anything generally peculiar about his attitude?

In his mind, the slurred words replay, to find either semblence or oddity, and just as the man is left behind far enough for his chilling glare to stop pouring into his soul deep within, it ultimately dawns onto him, his conscious setting off with a sudden alarm as he blurts;

"Was he-"

"Faking drunkeness?"

Widened eyes collide into narrowed ones.

"Yes, he was." Obito replies, as if to his own self.

Despite the chilling air, Tenzou feels a droplet trace down his temple. And then another.

"He acted well otherwise." He mumbles, mentally drifting in the event as he recalls.

"I asked around about him." The older boy continues. "The shopkeeper says that he was on the intel gathering team before this village's demilitarisation."

That, certainly does not help their case if so. He sighs as a fraction of fear is replaced by dissapointment , of course caused by the probability of having to face extra difficulties on a mission that not only petrifies him thus far, but requires two ANBU and one special Jonin as it is.

"Most probably a chap playing detective to relive his glory days, though. Even Orochimaru wouldn't be stupid enough to send one drunk idiot right in our faces instead of someone who can actually hide."

Not that it does not make sense or that it is atypical of Obito to be as dismissive, but the sudden softness on senpai's face tells him that this was more of a coax than an actual assessment.

And as much reassurance he finds in those words, a counter argument is right there to eat him away just as soon.

"But this is Orochimaru we are talking about." The sentence ends with a grunt, mostly to his own self as his stomach drops at the mere mention. "He strikes in the most unexpected ways, a-after assessing your weaknesses. He finds your blind spot first and...."

"Hey, Tenzou?"

"Huh?"

As the trance of memories fades away, he finds Obito facing him. Fully this time.

"Why did you take this mission?"

The younger boy gulps. He had prepared the lines in his mind, just in case, but he cannot help being unnerved to the point of averting his gaze. Right now, Obito is just too determined to be wrapped in a lie.

His eyes find no comfort other than staring at his own feet.

"I... "

Because in a job that requires you to forget your fears, a person who is afraid is nothing but an imposter. Lying to himself and everyone else.

He assumes he can tell Obito this, he is one for sappy dialogues afterall.

But for some reason, the words refuse to leave his tongue.

×------×

When the old man's steps instantly lose their wobbliness as he is pacing away, neither of the two in the alley actually seem bewildered.

Working in a department where people tend to use every trick up their sleeve to avoid being questioned, and acting seems to be the most common trick in the book. Nausea, Amnesia, Pity seeking, drunkeness, He has seen it all.

And embarrassingly enough for this guy over here, a B rank is more of a somewhat decent deceptor than him. Times of peace have worn him out, Genma supposes.

And if that's how much his intel gathering has worn out, it only makes sense that his senses must have gone blunt aswell, hence no reaction to having someone hot on his tail.

It costs barely five minutes of hopping roofs to land on a beach shop's terrace, a result of stalking him to the boardwalk on the flip side to the harbour, and he barely restrains a grunt that almost causes his senbon to slip as the man fishes a scroll and ink out and starts scribbling. Right under a streetlight.

This man is either entirely out of it or fooling him on purpose, and while the first one is more convinient for him, the second one has him praying that may Konoha never be demilitarised.

Nevertheless, he tries focusing on what the fellow is writing instead, to memorise in case the scroll ends up destroyed while intercepting....

....And he finds himself blinking and re reading twice, a smirk slowly creeping on his face just as the old man is engulfed in a puff of smoke and a log falls onto the page, the page that reads "I see you, punk."

×------×
He is both on the hunt for this man and balancing his defence for next few minutes before realising that the old man was probably self aware of his incompetency, at that stage of life with no practice, and isn't planning on fighting. He was just there to collect intel, afterall.

So, his priorities switch to searching for any escaping item that catches his eye instead, and while casually standing on the lighthouse for that should catch any Shinobi's eye no matter how worn down, he feels that it should be okay.

He guesses he did overestimate his foe when he sees a bird launching away in distance. The screech says that it is an eagle, a bird not only exclusively diurnal, but also nowhere near indigenous to the place.

This might aswell be a trap, but Genma isn't going to brand the man a smart one just because he had one cheap trick up his sleeve. So, launching in that direction and wrapping that creature up in worn out shuriken wire doesn't feel unnecessary.

The bird shrieks and attempts biting; the poor creature seem pitiful enough that Genma finds himself prioritising soothing and patting it over confiscating the scroll in its claws.

"Good bird." He whispers as the cries of the Eagle die down slightly, dropping the scroll in his pocket before continuing.

"Now, if we were to guess by your trajectory..." a mental recollection and a minute calculation that consume less than ten seconds of his has him tearing his glare into an alley two houses behind. A familiar figure is zooming out of it.

Not even trying to fight back, huh?

He sighs, and retrieving a rope with metal weights on each end from the pouch, casts it at the old man, whose wheezing is turning more and more audible. The entire feat is not only done single handedly because of having to cradle the bird in his other one, but with his eyes fixated on the little animal aswell. If the old man isn't taking him seriously, he absolutely has no need to do it otherwise.

He nestles the eagle in his vest pocket when a loud thud and a groan echo through the otherwise silent night - just in case there is any information to be extracted from it - and before long, the old man who had been squirming pathetically all this while finds his chin resting on a rubber strap of a shoe that angles his face upward in a shock.

"So...."

The man's sneer dwindles swift once the look on Genma's face becomes more apparent.

"..... Let's talk this out peacefully, shall we?"

This is partly why Genma is anxious for this part of the job on every mission. While the man's tremble and twitch is expected, this reaction never fails at filling him with pride.

Afterall, interrogation is where he truly flourishes.

×-----×

"Sooooo?"

Her eyes drift up, and finds a coy smile questioning her. Her lips make a ‘pop’ sound as she pulls away from the straw.

"Sooooooo?" She repeats, and unravels into a chuckle when her Kurenai arches a brow.

"You won't tell us how your date with Kakashi went?"

Grinning, she sets her glass down, the orange juice inside jiggling just a little. It is not like Rin did not expect this intervention as soon as her and Kakashi and the rest of the group parted ways after the movie; if anything, she anticipated it by the look Kurenai had passed before walking away with Asuma that evening.

As of present, she suspects that dodging away will not help her if they come at her head on.

"What exactly do you want to hear?" She tilts her head while speaking, so that one half of her face is taken care of by the sun and the other one is veiled by her own hand. It might sound ridiculous, but hiding a blush is precisely why she chose an outdoor table. The sun is directly overhead, and the heat is ridiculous for spring, but anything to keep these two from laughing at her.

They both share looks and, a lustrous grin spreads across their faces and Rin's mouth stands agape at the excitemnet oozing out. For her date. It seems enough to be misguiding any clueless fellow into believing that these two are on one right now.

"Everything."

A silent wheeze escapes her lips at the synchronous demand by both of them. But, if she thinks of it, that is just how girl friends are, is it not? She should just feel blessed to have them take such lively interest in her life, because it is their nosiness that makes them more confidential than someone who keeps boundaries like Yugao or even Gai.

And in turn, as a blessing for them, she has exactly the type of tea they desire. Well, somewhat.

"Well, there is nothing much to tell, honestly." She spares a quick glance at their faces. "We had coffee, walked around the stream, held hands and I gave him a kiss on the cheek after he dropped me o...."

The sentence remained hung once she breaks into chuckles again, caused by Shizune's face melting into her hands while she sings a feverish awe.

"He sure has come a long way. Hand holding and kissing on the same date?"

The jab is supposed to be sarcastic, Kurenai is sure to signal that with a roll of eye, but it is true, is it not?

"And he took her own a surprise date." Their medic friend interjects, pitch still feverish. "He took her on a date that Rin hadn't planned, that's a major developement 'Nai."

"Hey now." Rin giggles. "He has taken me on dates he planned before aswell."

"Yeah, like thrice in one year."

For a second, her smile flickers. She does not understand what rude sort of pleasure it is that these two get from insulting Kakashi, but the most frustrating part about it is how often they hit the nail spot on.

"I think the number must have increased by now." Kurenai's grin is sympathetic, but atleast it holds genuineness.

"And the fact that he decided for a spontaneous date? I feel like he's trying harder than ever before to commit."

"Yeah, I feel that aswell." Rin interjects, and notices her tone to be more sober than before. “He is not there yet, but he is trying his best with me.”

"He should try harder." Shizune's grumble, amidst slipping on the desk but miraculously not failing to take a sip through the straw in her mouth.

Rin… really does not want to talk about this any longer.

"Chill out, Shiz." Her giddiness is somewhat artificial, but she supposes that Shizune is preoccupied enough to overlook it. And Kurenai, she would just take the hint even if she noticed. “Not everyone can be Genma now.”

The noir scoffs. 

“Good for you he isn’t. That guy can’t remember his own birthday, let alone not forgetting a date night.”

Her eyebrow raises when the other two girls at the table share a look.

“What, I was sure he was more on the romantic side.” Kurenai is the first one to speak, chin resting on hand with interest. “With all those morning quickies and hicks and all.”

There is a slight chuckle before she begins. “Yeah, that’s just him making up for his forgetfulness.  It’s the law of boyfriendism afterall.”

“The law of boyfriendism?” Rin is puzzled, and almost embarrassed to be the only one on the table not knowing about it by the looks of Kurenai. Shizune turns to her, face glowing with a soft blush now.

“You know, like for every stupid thing that they do, there’s something really sweet that makes you want to keep them around?”

Oh. 

Kurenai says something, and Shizune and her engage in that conversation. She does not actually hear, though. She had immediately gone onto counting her own personal stats by this “Law of boyfriendism”.

And the more she calculates, the more she finds herself being pulled into complexity of something that should have been so, so simple.

×———————×

"Ah!" She squeaks, lowly yet sharply, eyes wide with inquetude and hands halfway prepared to devise a suitable seal for the attacker. 

Her breathing switches to wheezing and the hair on her skin all but eject. The tickle on her right foot, the reason she is so perturbed, lingers while her vigilant eyes swish in every direction they can, dim light scanning every visible corner in the name of her parole.

It takes a few seconds for herself to be consoled.  As the hitch in her breathe eases and she stares down, as expected, the one to distill her peace turns out to be nothing other than an lowly rat, shrewdly darting around in order to escape the sudden blaze of light that her flashlight has cast.

Agony breaks in Guren's eyes, and an infuriated grunt escapes her lips when the sound of cackling from an adjacent cell echoes. A no named freak having the gal to ridicule her, unbelievable. It is to no one's surprise that she despises this place. Who wouldn't?

The only decoration to the apostatized wasteland, as far as the sight travels, is nothing more than the paltry whistle of the the wind as it rattles the ceiling to this barron basement, carrying the afternoon loo personally. Other than that, the gurgling of wasteline from main Island overhead, full of radioactive waste that she swears she heard leak a few times before also keeps her at bay.

The flashlight is barely capable of illuminating the cave amply, let alone grant the her any sense of direction at all. Still, she has no choice but to search around as she is, because if the falling cables decorating her path are to say anything, then its the fact that trying to fumble the electric switch will be an affair of life and death.

On she goes, stumbling forward thanks to the uneven floor, blaring the light in the direction where the laugh had come from as she leaves, letting the hideous morbidity in there know that she will remember its swollen face. 

That reminds her of another reason to not be here; one good look at the residents of this place should be enough to give even hellspawns a spook. 

She does not know whether to be relieved or annoyed when the series of numbers she is looking for appear on the cell doors, but she does notice that unlike the barred cells around the last corner, these are more enforced. More dense. Only a slit on their metal doors connect them to the outside world.

And as each slit reveals atleast one pair of eyes glaring at her, she feels more self conscious than ever before.

A walk to the very end of this halfway leads her to where she is supposed to be, the cell whose key dangles on her twitching fingers. Atleast, this one does not have a pair of predatory eyes gaping at her. Not that it makes anything much pleasant.

She needs to take a breath before she opens it, for her own sake. Afterall, the girl inside and her have never been on great terms. And if the last time they met says anything, then a tad attentiveness to her surroundings is a must.

The clink that signifies the door opening and a groan from its inhabitant are both simultaneous.

"Who the fuck–"

As if on purpose, Guren flashes the light right into her eyes, and the girl has no choice but to shut them and grunt.

"Bitch!"

Now, if only she could gouge them out aswell. She would be sure to flash her a scowl if she was not forcing her eyes shut.

"Fucking snake. Out of all the people he could have sent, he chose you."

"He's your master, you whore." Guren seethes and steps closer, producing a single crystal in one hand to converge the light on the other girl's eyelids. As much as she disrelishes even looking at her, the disrespect for her great master is a step too far. 

And that she seems to be dead set on taking this step all the fucking time, is part of why she makes her skin crawl.

By the looks of it, she is bedbound, tied to her place by a single chain on her waist and two on her wrists. Enforced with whatever substance is keeping her on place.

An opportunity that would not repeat.

A wicked grin spreads across her face, and she strides forward with malice. She drops the crystal, and replaces it with a bigger one, aiming sharply for her eyes, then the rest of her face, smiling content watching her sneer in pain.

"And is it even a question as to why master sent me? It is becuase I am his most prized subject afterall."

The anger that she expected this to bring, as usual, never came. In lieu, a grin appeared on the other girl's face, which caused her own to dissolve.

"Heh. Most precious, you say?"

She glares at the bedbound animal, and gawks her eyes snap open just to throw the  menace back at her.

This convergence could have destroyed her uncovered eye, and that was the intent she had aimed at when closing to pursue this, but...

Where is the smoke coming from?

It is a second of shock before she realises that the eye is evaporating instead of eroding, and by the time the scenario trully comes to her, it is already too late. The girl in front of her has already melted, caking her bedsheets with her earthen remains.

A single hiss coming from behind her is all the warning she gets before her ankle is secured, and she is hanging upside down, gasping at what she is sure are scales around her foot.

Footsteps near her, and as they are just around where she is hovering, she sees another snake protude, dart towards her flashlight that had been forgotten on the floor amidst and collect it.

The snake seems to turn into a hand, and the hand flashed the light upward, to show the face. Her face.

Her, whose eyes laugh at Guren's helplessness, whose smirtle grows nastier everytime she is forced to see her. Which has an insult on the tip of it, to throw into her face everytime she gets the chance. Her, who will never fail in making Guren grit her teeth even while she is at her mercy.

"So tell me, snake's favourite girl. Why is it that he sent you as an errand girl to come pick good ol' me up?"

If there were words stronger than hate, despise, or abhor, even those could not have come close to how much Venom Guren had for Mitarashi Anko.

 

Notes:

So yeah, the thing is that writing the way I was, I hated it.
I think you all can tell I was googling adjectives and stuff, but since I have some issues and had trouble putting the correct words in seen and realising which scenario should be plausible, re reading my old fucs felt very unappealing. And as a result the joyless, unsatisfactory, surreal writing sucked the fun out for me. So I tried, took my time with other short fics for practice of different settings and styles, of emotions and thought process, and here we are.
This is my biggest project rn and I love anko, I really want this to be my best.

Notes:

Reviews please!