Disclaimer: Macdutton does not own Naruto, it is the property of Masashi Kishimoto.
A/N: Okay, this may be a little dark and will likely be revisited and rewritten when I've had more than an hour of sleep in 48 hours. As it stands, please feel free to share comments on my writing style, spelling errors, grammer, general ways I could improve my writing.
Anko wasn't always the crazy sadist Konohagakure knows now. Once, she was happy, innocent. One man changed that forever, continuing the curse of the Hebi-nin.
Legend holds that all who contract with the snake clan eventually suffer the breaking of their mind. In recent history this has been supported in the horror that is Orochimaru, the genius, the golden boy of Konoha. Over time, he began to indulge his fascination with the human body. He started with himself, splicing genes he took from the snake king, Manda, into himself, changing his body to resemble the snake. Eventually, he just couldn't do any more to himself. He had to start on others.
His compulsion to experiment on the human body and examine its capabilities led to the experiments on the homeless denizens of Konoha, the ones nobody would miss. But it wasn't enough. He had to understand bloodlines too, modify them, create his own.
He began abducting anyone he could from the Uchiha and Hyuuga clans. He wanted to understand the trigger for the Sharingan, the inner workings of the Byakugan.
Eventually, he began experimenting on his apprentice, the young girl he had taught since the age of 12, groomed her to be his successor as the new Hebi Sennin. So he forced her into his own footsteps, testing the changes he could safely make to her DNA. She was his attempt to create a new dojutsu, but all he managed was to allow her to see without pupils.
When he left, he stole her away with him, determined to continue his new project. He subjected her to horrors beyond the imagining of normal people for over a year. Sometimes she still wakes up at night screaming, feeling the needles embedded in her skin, the phantom pain never fading.
The doctors say it's all in her head, that the pain couldn't still exist. But she knows. Oh yes, she knows. The marks are still there. Just like the mark is still there. Always there. Indelible. Undeniable. Sure, the Old Man contained it. Sealed it away. But it whispers, even now.
And such sweet whispers they are. Intimations of power, protection from her persecutors, the ability to gain retribution. The whispers tell her of the fabulous gifts she could have, if she only broke the seal, immersed herself in the power she had been gifted.
She knew the truth though. She would drown. Drown in his insanity, his power lust. But they were getting hard to ignore.
Her resolve was weakening.
Soon she would break, she knew it.
But she was saving it. Saving it for the right time. For the moment she met him again.
She could almost feel his blood running over her fingers, making them slippery and warm, sticky and sweet scented. She could feel her kunai stabbing into him, over and over. Feel the death of the snake she hated so much. Because only the pain of the one she hated the most could feel this good.
But she really could feel it. The blood. On her hands. On her chest.
Looking down, she saw red.
A mess of punctures in pale skin.
Her skin.
Her own knife buried in herself.
She heard laughter. Beautiful, mirthful laughter. The sound of a broken, insane woman. Laughter she recognised.
Her own.