Title:
Scarred
Words: 330
Characters: Dosu Kinuta and
Orochimaru
Challenge: Give Me A Past
Bonuses: Bad
Guys, Chinese Food, Children, Motivations, and
Tissues
Warning/Rating: R-ish, for language, gore, and
rather disturbing imagery.
A/N: I'm not sure where this
came from. I just got to thinking about all the bad guys, and ways I
could incorporate Chinese Food into a ficlet. Then it hit me - Dosu
and his crazy bandages. You'll see why...
It was an accident. A stupid fucking accident, that's all. He had known father was in a bad way, and he had known that it was a tender situation. But when he bumped the pot, and that hot oil sprayed across father's arm, he didn't know how bad it would get. No dumplings that night, the oil was gone. It was just a splash on father, a minor burn at best.
But little Kinuta got it worse.
Doused in oil, and left to burn. The stupid remnant of a lost lover; a waste of flesh he finally had an excuse to remove. The child of that two-faced whore he thought he loved was now a burnt husk, whimpering on the ground.
"Get out," was father's growl, and the boy could only do as he was told.
Blood leaked from cracked and broken skin, shiny like the knife he held. He had scrounged up tissues and bandages to cover the raw red pain, pure white stained with shame and hatred. Shaking hands had swabbed the blood and enzymes from his flesh, skin burnt off to bare thick, shining muscle.
His one good eye looked out over the corpse of that bastard, and he finally fixed that stupid fucking accident. A quick slice, and hot red life sprayed from the jugular vein, dousing the bandages that Dosu had just changed. It didn't matter, though. That feeling, sticky, wet, and hot, it made his frayed nerves tingle with adrenaline. Hot death felt so, so good.
Teacher stood in the background, pale skin clashing with hair like darkness. He had given Dosu the knife, and told him that he had a purpose now. With medicines and treatment, he would become great. The pain would vanish. All he had to do was serve, and he would make the world suffer in his place.
Raw and cracked, his lips parted behind the red-smeared cloth, and Dosu let out a howl of primal, sadistic glee.