No one needs to tell me I'm weird, as I'm sure you'll all want to after you finish this. I've figured that one out all on my own, mkay? Anyway, thanks for stopping by. Reviews, as always, are very much appreciated.
Falling Gods
Nothing is ageless. Hard as it might be to accept, even the divine grow old. Three people, on the precipice of all that is antediluvian, know this.
Tsunade veils her knowledge, Jiraiya ignores his, and Orochimaru refuses to accept it.
Whatever each believes, it doesn't change the fact that life doesn't last. Legends fade with the passing of time, their words melting into the fabric of eras long since past. Kunai dull, jutsus weaken, bandages crumble, and so it is only fitting that their team do the same.
When they were young, they were small and prideful and filled with hope for the future. As the team disbanded, they were at the height of their powers, no longer adolescent and still not old. Now, with the passage of the years, their souls have aged.
They have fallen from the clouds they once called home. Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru, each at different paces, are going the way of their sensei. And if there was one thing that Sarutobi failed to teach them, it was how to grow old.
Tsunade, for as much as she knows she can't stop it, still hides under the skin of the person she was forty years ago. Jiraiya doesn't change his appearance. He merely acts like the teenager that plagued Konoha so long ago, afraid of what will happen if he stops. Orochimaru takes everything one step further, shucking one body for a younger, stronger one at every opportunity.
Just like forgotten deities of ages past, glories remembered only in the tales that are told, the Sannin have grown old. Fallen gods, still chained to earth, they struggle with something far simpler and far more complex than any enemy they ever had to face, any battle they ever had to fight.
The Fifth is retired, "ero-sennin" no longer teaches, and a quest that no one could succeed at is on the verge of being abandoned. Hopes have been fulfilled and dreams have shattered, and all that's left is who they are today. A pantheon that belongs to a different time, age is here and three threads are growing ragged.
Nothing is ageless. Hard as it might be to accept, even the divine grow old. Three people, on the precipice of all that is antediluvian, know this. As legends fade, kunai dull, jutsus weaken, and bandages crumble, their team does the same.