Characters: Karin, Kimimaro
Summary
: The bones still glistening with blood are the most beautiful she's seen.
Pairings
: Onesided KimiKarin
Author's Note
: Profoundly bizarre I know, but Karin, Otogakure and romance of any kind tends to make a bizarre mix in my mind.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Naruto.


She entertains something childish and yet more grown-up and womanly than her slight twelve-year-old body can handle when she watches him dance. To see bones fashioned into blades flying and every muscle tightening sends Karin's blood running as to leave her flushed and excited, adrenaline pooling at her fingertips where they tingle. Her throat grows hard and difficult to swallow on and Karin keeps to her shadowy hiding place, both out of a fear of being caught and afraid he might attack.

Karin knows bits and snatches about this boy: Kaguya Kimimaro of the Mist, kekkei genkai child, last of his clan, Orochimaru-sama's favorite. She knows things about him the way she knows why the moon stays in orbit—secondhand and blurred, unclear at some of the details.

The bone dancer, inhumanly graceful—it's just a little frightening—spitting bones at every angle and second—the most thrilling thing she's ever seen.

To say a word, Karin says little. In fact, she says nothing at all. Not to him, because she's just a low-level acolyte and those so close the stars have neither the need nor the inclination to notice people like her. And there's always the chance that he might kill her, whether accidentally or not—there is no distinction made between the two here, and death is given little mind in Otogakure; if anything, it's hardly noticed at all.

From her shadowy hiding place, draped in cobwebs like a cloak and her chakra masked, Karin still likes to watch him at his dance.

A twist of pale flesh and bones are emerging from the wrists and forearms. Just as quickly, a femur bone, sinew still clinging on, strikes the target, little white flakes peeling off to fall like snow. Karin can't see why others are so abjectly terrified or disgusted; to her, the sight of a glistening net of blood on bone is the most beautiful she's seen.

He's beautiful, in a savage sort of way.

It is only later, however, that Karin ever speaks to Kimimaro, and sees how sick he is. Everything is brought into sharper focus when she feels his teeth against her arm. Digging his teeth into her flesh helps him for a little while, but ultimately it's futile and he only wastes away.

Up close, Karin sees the shadows under his eyes, the strain of the next and the ridges of skin pulled too snugly over ribs. She sees blood flecks in the foam around Kimimaro's mouth after he coughs. She hears the involuntary shake in his voice every time he speaks.

It's disappointing.

She can only wonder where the savage, graceful bone dancer has gone.—