Silk | By : RotSeele Category: Naruto AU/AR > General Views: 1258 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. All characters (besides the
Village Hidden in Silk and others to come in later chapters) belong to Kishimoto-sensei.
This story is based off of theory, conjecture, conversation, LARPG's, and my
and my beloved muse's brains. This is not to say this is what we think will
happen. It is the first of (hopefully) a series of such stories. Some ideas
will be outrageous, but itÕs a fanfiction. Keep an open mind, sit back, relax,
and enjoy.
I.
Orochimaru was tired. He was tired
of fighting, of hiding in caves out of necessity rather than preference, of
losing battles he was sure he could win all because he was too afraid to kill a
sixteen year old boy. He was tired of losing his pawns, and he was tired of
searching for clues to the whereabouts of his precious person. He was growing
tired of Kabuto; the boy was getting increasingly annoying with his schemes and
smarter-than-thou attitude. He was growing tired of Sasuke, though he tolerated
the boy much more than the silver-haired youth who was unfailingly loyal to
him. Sasuke knew when to speak and when to keep silent. He knew when to announce
his presence and appear as silently as a ghost. Hell, he knew when he was
needed around his sensei or to vacate the premises.
Orochimaru sat heavily on the stone
chair that curved out from a stalagmite, slouching, chin resting on his fist.
Sasuke was sitting on the floor, his Kusunagi before him, his eyes closed as he
seemed to take a nap. In fact, Orochimaru believed the boy was indeed sleeping,
since the opportunity to sleep came to them in spurts and even then, rarely.
Kabuto was somewhere, and Orochimaru couldn't bring himself to care. Speaking
of caring, Orochimaru was starting to care more about Uchiha Sasuke as a person
than as his next vessel. And time was running out for him to make the switch.
Sasuke was becoming more useful as an ally than as a vessel, and with what he
was developing on his own, and what Orochimaru was teaching the boy, Sasuke
could very well become Orochimaru's successor. Orochimaru snorted quietly.
Successor to what? A legacy of hiding in caves and being reduced to vagabonds
with bounties on their heads, looking over their shoulders for hunter nin?
Sasuke gave a twitch and opened
whirling Sharingan eyes, on his feet before Orochimaru registered the movement.
Snake-like eyes followed the boy's movement, noting his retreat into the shadows,
bloody red fading into black. Orochimaru had learned a while ago Sasuke loathed
Kabuto, for reasons he had yet to discover. It was enough to drive Sasuke from
the room when Kabuto even approached, but Orochimaru realized this time, Sasuke
was directly behind him in the shadows. Orochimaru liked that kind of loyalty.
Kabuto swept into the room a moment later, a solemn look on his face, and a
piece of flesh in his hand. Orochimaru quirked an eyebrow, and watched his
subordinate, looking as bored as possible. Kabuto dipped into a deep bow before
his master, kneeling down and presenting the piece of skin.
Orochimaru refused to scream in
denial.
He refused to get up and demand
Kabuto to have definite proof.
Refused to show any emotion.
He reached out for the flesh, took
the soft, smooth skin into his hands, running his fingers over the mark in the
pale skin.
"Where did you get this,
Kabuto-kun?"
"The new desert that appeared two
and a half years ago. I'm afraid this is all I found of Kimimaru-kun, Orochimaru-sama."
Orochimaru saw red for a brief
moment, before that feeling of tiredness fell on him. The idea of living
forever no longer held it's splendor for him, and taking over Sasuke's body no
longer interested him. He slipped from the chair to his feet, and he swept from
the audience chamber to the hall offshoot, into his room. He slammed the door
behind him, and sat on the bed, fingers and eyes running over that pale flesh,
and that beautiful mark that stained it.
Kimimaru was gone.
He had died fighting.
Fighting for Orochimaru.
For Orochimaru's dream.
Orochimaru grabbed up the pillow
that kept his head from smacking stone while he slept and screamed into it.
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