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Pupil of the Serpent	By : Mario Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 2253 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters contained herein. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Another completely rewritten chapter. Interestingly enough, while the chapters are getting longer, the pace of the story is actually much slower, to the point where I may have to add another chapter. I've added more character interaction and internal reflection to add a bit of depth, which I think is a good thing. I may have to do one more complete rewrite, and then some light editing should suffice for the next chapters, so we're almost to the point where I can actually start writing new material. Oh, happy day.
Disclaimer: Gee, I hate disclaimers. They're usually wholly ineffective, fail to convince anyone of anything, and waste everyone's time. That being said, I think I'm going to put one here anyway. I do not condone or in any way encourage romantic relationships, sexual or otherwise, between adults and young children. The views expressed by the characters are solely theirs (blame the character, not the writer?), and I promise that I do not use this story as a forum to express my own personal views. Though you might arguably be doing the world a favor by hunting me down and disposing of me, I'd really rather that you didn't. I'm not that horrible a person. Really.

To my reviewers:
@Lynn: The dreaded kissing scene strikes again! Sorry about that . . . I usually get exhausted after 2,000 words and I start looking for the most convenient place to end the chapter, which usually ends up being the most annoying as well. Anyway, I'm sure you'd just charm Orochimaru into becoming your personal servant, so no danger there.
@Small Fox: Well, of course you're completely right; the writer should make such decisions. However, being the pathetic being that I am, I was out of creativity, and wanted to see if anyone was uncomfortable about the idea. I finally figured out what I wanted to write, though. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
@Wolf Goddess: Well, of course you deserve reviews; your stories are wonderful! And isn't Orochimaru just the ideal role model for a young, impressionable girl to look up to?
@weaselchan: Have I told you that I love your reviews? Oh wait . . . yeah, I have. Well, I'll just say it again—I love them! I'll keep doing my best!
@Incredible_Cardigan_Emotion: Well, I followed your advice . . . let's hope it didn't come out too badly. I hope you'll keep reviewing!
@The Perverted Mind: No sex this chapter, sorry. We're getting there, though. Just hold on a bit longer.
@vic: Well, Anko's spared this time, but you might end up hating me by the end of the story. As much as I'd love to make this a "happily ever after" story, it simply isn't to be. Regardless, I thank you for your input. I'll always put a warning if a chapter contians explicit content, so don't stop reading!
@sasamegodoflove: Sorry; I've failed you. I'll make up for it later though!
@Mizuru007: Oh, how cruel that would be! She might stab him in the back with a kunai though . . . Thanks for your support; I thought of you when I was about to delete the story!

Anko frowned, straining her ears to hear what was being said.
Kekkei genkai.
She said the word silently to herself. She had heard it before somewhere, but wasn't certain what it meant. But the raw desire in Orochimaru's voice had been unmistakable. There were very few things that could rouse her sensei's interest enough to make him abandon his typical bored tone. This kekkei genkai, whatever it was, definitely interested him.
Tsunade broke free of her trance. "Orochimaru, watch out! This guy's dangerous; don't play around with him!"
Seeming almost to draw encouragement from her words, the ice-wielding shinobi, who had been unconsciously retreating from Orochimaru's advance, shook off the stupor induced by the Sannin's murderous aura. His eyes regained their focus, and he rapidly formed a series of hand seals. Kneeling down, he touched the icy patch of ground that had been frozen by his earlier jutsu.
"Die!" As if in response to his cry, the frozen ground erupted towards the pale shinobi in an explosion of razor-sharp icicles. The frozen spikes pierced him from every direction, puncturing several vital organs. As Anko watched in horror, Orochimaru coughed violently, expelling blood into the air. A moment later, his body went limp, slumping down over the spikes that impaled it.
Anko was hardly even aware of her own movements as she dropped down from the tree she had been watching from, running towards her mortally-wounded sensei as fast as her legs could carry her. Her mind was blank, unable to process what she was seeing. Orochimaru-sensei couldn't be dead, it was impossible. The other two Sannin had appeared unconcerned, but now they glanced in her direction, obviously confused to see her there.
A dark chuckle brought her up short, her eyes going wide as the "dead" Orochimaru melted away, his body seeming to discorporate as it changed into dozens of white-scaled snakes, which fell to the ground like thick segments of rope and slithered away. Even as this happened, her teacher rose up from the ground behind the Mist-nin, almost as if he had grown from the soil itself. The man gasped in surprise, turning around and leaping away. The snake Sannin made no move to pursue him, but instead simply shook his head in amusement.
"I had heard that the kekkei genkai that allows the use of ice-element ninjutsu was among the most feared in the Mist village." A twisted smile formed upon his pale lips. "It seems that the shinobi of Kirigakure are nothing but feeble fools. I have no interest in your pathetic power; you can just die here."
The man backed away still further, his rapid breathing betraying both fear and rage. "Impossible! I'm not going to die before I've even had the chance to show the world my hatred! All those years of suffering . . . all the discrimination and pain that I've endured . . . I can't die so meaninglessly now!"
The killing intent that had faded away now returned full force, Orochimaru's golden eyes glittering with sadistic malice as he spoke in a near whisper: "That is the fate of weaklings. No matter how hard you attempt to fight against that destiny, it is inevitable. The only purpose of prey . . . is to become food for the predator."
Orochimaru took a step forward, and the terrified man cried out, his eyes filled with desperation.
"Stay back! Stay away from me!" He flung several ice shards, but the pale shinobi dodged them effortlessly. "What the hell are you? Monster!"
Monster.
Anko entered a state of hyperawareness, her senses sharpening and her mind cataloguing every detail. She also felt oddly numb—it was as if she were an emotionless observer in her own body. She didn't hesitate as she came up behind the man, and her aim was steady when she drove the kunai into his back. He gave an icy gasp as the blade found his heart.
"Orochimaru-sensei isn't a monster," she whispered, though it almost felt as if someone else's mouth spoke the words.
Her hand didn't tremble as she twisted the knife sharply, just as every ninja was trained to do in the Academy. The man fell away from her to land face down in the grass, his body making no sound as it hit the ground. Blood had splattered her face, and she found it strange that it felt so warm. She stood there for several moments, looking down at the man's body, the bloody kunai still embedded in his back.
The numbness faded all at once, and she rushed back into herself suddenly, like displaced water refilling a vessel when the obstruction was removed. Shock was clearly written on her expression as she looked up at the three ninja who were watching her, each face revealing a different reaction.
Orochimaru spoke first, his expression impenetrable. "So, Anko . . . how does it feel to be a predator?"
Anko responded by falling to her knees, vomiting onto the bloody ground.

They didn't go any further that night; Jiraiya and Tsunade were both exhausted, and Anko could hardly put one foot in front of the other without stumbling. Orochimaru volunteered to dispose of the corpses of the Mist ninja, and no one was inclined to argue. Meanwhile, Jiraiya sent a message to Konoha, and Tsunade set up camp just out of sight of the battlefield, taking Anko along with her. The medic administered a sedative pill, which calmed Anko's nausea somewhat, but didn't blur her thoughts enough to keep her from hearing one thing over and over again.
How does it feel to be a predator?
"Was that your first time killing someone?" Tsunade tossed another piece of wood on the fire before sitting down next to the girl.
The little kunoichi nodded mutely.
"How old are you, Anko?"
"Nine."
The blonde woman hissed softly, as if she'd been stung by something.
"What?"
"It's nothing. I was just thinking that sometimes I truly hate this world that we live in."
Anko couldn't make any sense of that, so she said nothing.
After a moment, Tsunade spoke again. "Do you still feel sick?"
"No. Sleepy mostly."
"Sleep, then. You'll feel better when you wake up."
The Sannin fetched a bedroll from one of the packs, and Anko gratefully lay down and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, the combined tug of the sedative and her own exhaustion dragged her down to sleep.

She awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, her breathing coming in harsh pants. Clawing her way out of her blanket, she sat up and looked around. The campfire had mostly died down, but she could faintly make out Tsunade's sleeping figure nearby, while Jiraiya identified himself through his loud snoring. She didn't see her sensei anywhere, but that didn't surprise her. After being ambushed the day before, there was no shinobi team that wouldn't set a watch while they slept, and Orochimaru-sensei never kept watch where anyone could see him.
Orochimaru-sensei . . . Did he ever have nightmares?
How does it feel to be a predator?
In a way, it felt awful. Looking at the corpse—someone who was dead and never coming back—and realizing that it had been her hand that had twisted the kunai into his heart . . . that was vile. Just thinking about it was enough to make her want to throw up again.
But he had been trying to kill Orochimaru-sensei. He would have killed her as well, if he'd had the chance. If she had to kill to prevent that, then she would kill. Kill and kill and kill. A hundred times over. A thousand times over. If you weren't willing to kill, Anko realized, you lived in fear of everyone who was. You were a predator, or you were prey. That was what Orochimaru-sensei wanted her to understand—to be a ninja was to be a killer.
I am the predator. Anko accepted the fact. She let it define her, purging herself of guilt. I will kill when I must, and I won't let it destroy me.
Having solved her moral dilemma to her satisfaction, she finally allowed herself to relax and consider lesser discomforts. The feel of her clothing sticking to her sweaty body was disgusting, and the faint metallic-sour scent of the dried blood that had caked on her skin was quickly threatening to make her retch. She had to have a bath.
Getting up, she fumbled about in the darkness for a few moments, attempting to locate the pack that held her clothes. The first bag that she opened wasn't hers, however. Judging by the fact that it held more cup ramen than ninja tools, Anko surmised that it probably belonged to Jiraiya. She was about to close the bag when something caught her eye in the firelight—there was a small, tightly-wound scroll poking out from amongst the other objects. Scrolls, in Anko's experience, were usually inscribed with powerful ninjutsu, or served as summoning contracts, such as the one Orochimaru had given her to sign. She bit her lip, considering.
I really shouldn't. It belongs to Jiraiya-san.
But what if it had some kind of really powerful jutsu written on it? It might be a technique that even Orochimaru-sensei didn't know. Besides, what harm could it do just to look?
Just a peek, and then I'll put it back.
Careful not to make any noise, she gently lifted the scroll out of the bag, then crept over to the fire. With a slightly guilty look over at where Jiraiya was snoring, she quickly opened the scroll, eagerly reading its contents.
It certainly was not a ninja scroll.
Anko returned the scroll to its bag, blushing faintly. Jiraiya-san is a pervert, she thought, fervently agreeing with the assessment of the blond teenager who had accompanied Jiraiya at the dango shop all those months ago. Of course, she didn't know what the word meant, exactly, but she was fairly certain it applied here.
Though she certainly wouldn't mind trying a few of the things the scroll had described, if Orochimaru-sensei was her partner . . .
She shook her head sharply to clear away the fantasy. Dreaming was something best left for when you were asleep. Quickly, she located the correct pack, gathering a fresh set of clothing. According to the map that she and her sensei had followed for their courier mission, there was a wide river flowing to the north of the village that they had last stopped in. Though they had gone further north than their planned route, the river should still be there if she simply headed directly east. With luck, she could be back within an hour.
She began walking, moving as silently as possible so as not to disturb the two sleeping ninja. As she reached the edge of the clearing where they had made their camp, she paused, looking around. In all likelihood, her sensei was watching her right now, and she was fairly sure that he wouldn't approve of her leaving the safety of the camp. The thought of his disapproval was enough to make her stop for a few moments, and she even considered turning back. She could always wait until morning and ask Tsunade to escort her . . .
Anko squared her shoulders, glaring into the darkness defiantly. No, she was dirty and sore, and she wanted a bath right away. If Orochimaru-sensei didn't like that, he could just come out from wherever he was hiding and tell her so. If she ever wanted him to see her as a real ninja, she was going to have to start acting like one, and that meant being able to take care of herself without him holding her hand every step of the way. She was not amused by the way he'd left her behind in that cave—she had practically thrown herself at him, confessing her feelings, and he hadn't even bothered to reject her. He'd just put her to sleep and tucked her in like an infant.
Well, she had broken his genjutsu, followed him into battle, and even killed an enemy shinobi. She wished she hadn't puked all over the place afterward, but despite that, even Tsunade had seemed impressed with her. Real combat had been frightening, but though she had instinctively known that she was outclassed and stayed out of the fight—at least until it seemed that Orochimaru-sensei had been killed—she also knew that she wouldn't freeze up against enemies like the ones the Sannin had been fighting. The scariest one had been the ninja she'd finished off, and even he was nothing compared to her sensei.
Yes, she knew that Orochimaru-sensei didn't need her to come along—he didn't need anyone, as far as Anko could tell—but that was no reason to exclude her. Ever since Tsunade had accused him of killing her brother, he'd been treating Anko as if she were made of glass!
Something clicked, and she froze, her eyes going wide.
Tsunade's brother . . . Orochimaru-sensei's worried that I'll do something stupid and get killed, too!
When she thought about it, it all made sense. She knew, even if Tsunade didn't, that the snake Sannin hadn't hated his previous pupil. From the sounds of it, they hadn't gotten along very well, but Anko could still recall the haunted look in her teacher's eyes; an expression she'd never seen before. She should have seen the parallels earlier, except that it was so difficult to believe that Orochimaru could actually care enough to worry about her.
Jiraiya-san was right! Orochimaru-sensei does care about me!
A large part of her rejoiced in this knowledge. After suffering for months with the unbearable fear that she was little more than a burden to him, she could finally rest easy in the knowledge that he would at least notice if she disappeared from the face of the earth. A smaller part, however, was not so pleased. Anko did not want her teacher to like her in a "cute-little-student-who-needs-to-be-protected" sort of way. As of late, she was rather determined that his affections be something more along the lines of . . . well, what she'd read on Jiraiya's scroll. And when Anko was determined, she didn't give up easily.
The sound of flowing water told her that she'd reached the river. In the end, it seemed that Orochimaru-sensei hadn't come after her. She was a little disappointed, since she intended to disabuse her teacher of the notion that she was a silly little girl who needed protecting, and that was a conversation best held in privacy. She trusted Jiraiya as much as anyone she'd ever met, and Tsunade was actually a very gentle person, once you got to know her, but she very much doubted that either of them would be sympathetic to her cause on this particular issue. At best, she'd be the recipient of misplaced concern. At worst . . . well, the worst didn't bear thinking about. No, she'd have to wait until after the mission was over to broach the subject with her sensei.
Anko was, perhaps, a little naive about the realities of the adult world, but the nine-year-old knew that it wasn't socially acceptable for teachers to indulge in romantic relationships with their little-child students. She supposed she understood that. Little children needed to be protected, after all.
Anko was not a little child. She resented that label, especially now. As far as she was concerned, the distinction between child and adult had nothing to do with your age. She was a full-fledged (if low-ranking) kunoichi and a student of one of the greatest shinobi to have ever been born. She had killed a man with her own hands. She was nine years old, and she was in love.
Of course, she might have to wait a while to bring her plans to fruition. She didn't expect someone like Orochimaru-sensei to be satisfied with a scrawny little girl who still couldn't manage a worthwhile summoning jutsu. A woman worthy of Orochimaru would have to be a powerful ninja. She would be strong. Smart. Definitely attractive. For him, Anko was willing to be all of those things, but she needed a few years. In the meantime, she would make sure that he waited for her.
I am the predator. Orochimaru-sensei is the prey.
She giggled aloud at the thought.

A/N: Writing the nine-year-old version of Anko is just an absolute nightmare for me. I just struggle and struggle with her, until I almost want to wrap my hands around her little neck and just squeeze . . . ahem.
I thought I'd talk a little about the writing process in these notes, just because I feel like I should be saying something besides making continuous pleas for people to review, and I figure you might pity me a bit more if you know why I'm so bad at this writing thing. If you'd like to know more about what I was thinking when I wrote a specific scene or character (assuming that I have any clue, given the unholy hours during which I tend to churn these chapters out), just leave a review and tell me so. Otherwise, I'll probably just complain about whatever aspect of a particular chapter I found most difficult.
I love reviews like zombies love brains. Gimme!
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Pupil of the Serpent