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In the Garden of Shadow	By : Lykomancer Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 1449 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. My fanwriting is for entertainment purposes only, never for profit.

Chapter List
- 1-In the Garden of Shadow
- 1
Jiraiya was easily annoyed with anything and everything
Orochimaru did or did not do, everything he was and was not� every glance and
every word and every smile grated on his nerves, and he never failed to express
his irritation in action or word, usually loudly.

Jiraiya couldn�t stand anything about him; he resented him and the attention he
received; and he adored him, too, more than even he knew, though that was
nearly silent, unmarked but for his staunch, grubby loyalty, the ragged and
unfaltering devotion that was as unreasoning and inevitable as his frustration
and a hundred times more powerful.

Tsunade could tolerate with great patience everything about Orochimaru except
his condescension.

While Jiraiya retreated to the lofty heights of the frog-ruled Mount Myoboku
for more of his personal training, Tsunade and Orochimaru played their own
games of strength and cunning in the lush forests of Konoha, unconscious
understanding running between them in an alternating current. Words weren�t
necessary when they were alone; Tsunade gauged his mood by the tilt of his head
and the slope of his shoulder, the way he let his weight rest lightly against
her hip sometimes when they were close.

She chased him across the wide pool at the base of the waterfall, the dull roar
of churning water echoing off of the glittering grey granite walls that cupped
and cradled the river�s descent, and she was close enough that the ripples he
left in his wake were still ringing out across the surface, marking each step
that she followed.

Orochimaru sprang from the thicket of rattling reeds, kunai in hand, Tsunade
smirked and dodged, and they danced on the surface of the pool, wheeling and
spinning, stepping in and out in a comfortable rhythm to a beat that only the
two of them could hear. Her breath came in sharp pants, but the slick slide of
his tongue across his pale lips was too familiar to be distracting.

Tsunade threw him over her hip into his own bunshin when he teleported behind
her; she was grinning and leaning over him before Orochimaru could even catch
his breath or twist back up to his feet. She pushed him down into a thick bed
of overlapping lily pads, the plant�s white flowers scattered like stars in the
dark fan of his hair.

�Tsunade-hime��

A red-crowned crane ruffled its feathers as it stared down its long bill at the
intruders, then spread its wings and took off, riding the cool wet breeze
sweeping down from precipice of the fall and crying out in its shrill,
heartbreaking voice.

She liked him like this, when he looked up at her, his amber eyes fierce and
bright. Genius, they said; he�s a natural, a real prodigy, but
those compliments were meaningless coming from those who would never see him
like this, and Tsunade could not resent the praise heaped upon her quiet,
cynical teammate so long as she had this, this one thing that no one else had.

Orochimaru opened his mouth to say her name again, the corner of his lips
curling in a smile as he lifted a hand to stroke her hair from her eyes, and
Tsunade felt the blood rush hotly to her face as the world fell away.

Orochimaru could admire everything about Tsunade except her cowardice.

It disgusted him that someone so strong and willful could be so easily broken
and swept aside; there was no excuse for it, none, and Orochimaru could no more
understand it than stomach it. When they were younger, he assuaged his doubts
with the assumption that she would grow out of it with experience and
increasing confidence, but his disappointment in her grew over the years until
it was even more crushing than his revulsion of the trait he so despised.

Orochimaru believed that Nawaki�s death would finally force her to open her
eyes and see the truth. He wanted to rub her nose in it, force her proud golden
head down to press her cheeks against the cold flesh of her beloved brother and
make her come to terms with the unreasoning tyranny of death. She could not
avoid it; no one was exempt from it, and there was no way to run from it or
turn its teeth from her door. The only power one had over death was to embrace
it, and surely Tsunade would come around to that understanding soon enough.

And when she did, when she finally realized that all of life was futile if one
did not use the power one had to rage against the falling of the night, then
Orochimaru would take her hand, lead her down into the dark of his hidden
laboratories, and welcome her as a fellow conspirator to the grandest coup of
all.

Orochimaru was a patient man. Tsunade needed to reach this understanding on her
own� he could not force her, only nudge� otherwise it was meaningless, and for
her free and eager participation he was willing to wait.

Fury gleamed in Tsunade�s eyes whenever she looked at him; she hadn�t forgiven
him for the callous comment he�d made about her brother�s corpse in front of
the morgue, her late grandfather�s necklace dangling from his fingers, and
Orochimaru wondered if some part of her blamed him, profoundly and
irrationally, for her loss� he so talented, so skilled, and so completely
incapable of preventing this tragedy.

She was furious still when Orochimaru slammed her back against the dirty wall
of an empty alleyway in a strange village and fucked her without a trace of
tenderness or mercy. Tsunade hissed obscenities up at the dim sliver of grey
sky as she bucked her hips forward to meet each undulation of his inhumanly
long tongue, one long leg thrown over his shoulder and her hands fisted tight
in his hair. It started to rain as Orochimaru gained his feet and smiled at
her, licking the slippery tang of her come from his lips; he gripped her jaw
with one pale hand and forced her to look him in the eye as he thrust unto her
body.

Tsunade�s mouth twisted in a snarl, her breath hitching between her clenched
teeth, and she arched her back against the brick wall, grinding into the apex
of each brutal stroke until she came again, hard and white-hot and seethingly
silent. She smelled of sweat and blood and sex; there was mud smeared across
her cheek and scratches on her calloused hands; her tawny hair was plastered
down her head and neck in straggling strings; and Orochimaru thought that she
had never been more beautiful.

She shoved him back into the opposite wall when they were through, trembling
with rage as she yanked her fatigues back into place and stormed out into the
open street, bare-headed in the cold rain.

Orochimaru laughed softly to himself, his shoulders shaking as he bowed his
head and left his hair slip down to hide his face. Hot-blooded Princess Tsunade
and her wicked temper� He liked her like that, though, with dirt under her
nails and her dark eyes narrowed into slits of riotous emotion and
determination.

He wanted to see her burn.

But back in the village, Tsunade held on to Dan�s arm like a lifeline and
looked up at him with a saccharine-sweet smile, and plied her act so
convincingly that everyone who saw them together bought her show, including
Tsunade herself. Ah. Such a pretty little liar, Orochimaru thought,
steadfastly ignoring sickening rise of bile in his throat and the twist of
betrayal souring his stomach. Jiraiya shifted beside him and sighed something
unhappy and meaningless, and Orochimaru nodded without listening, his mind a
thousand miles distant.

Tsunade was still a coward.

Orochimaru was a patient man. He was so close now, so close he could taste it,
to figuring everything out. Soon enough, all the pieces would fall into place,
including his certain promotion to the Hokage�s seat, and then he would have
all the time in the world to wait if that�s what it took.

Twenty years, thirty years� It wouldn�t matter. Eventually, Tsunade would come
around; he was sure of it.

All the time in the world.
- 1
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In the Garden of Shadow