I'm not really a man of love. Never really looked at life in this way; love wasn't really an emotion - if I could call it that - that I was particularly familiar with. It's not that I've never wanted it - I think we all have, sometime or another - but there just wasn't very much time for it. Chunin at 10. Jounin at 14. ANBU at 18. Captain at 20. My entire life has been spent for Konoha. My body, my blood, my soul - for Konoha. We're trained not to be sentimental. Sentiment - this word of destruction - could grow to be stronger than the best shinobi. If we were rocks, sentiment was the incessant pounding of waves. If we were blades, sentiment was the rust. And, unfortunately, we shinobi are blades. We are tools used for destruction, and other shinobi aren't what we fear most. It's sentiment. Burn it, rip it, cut it, shred it, remove it at all costs. Sentiment was a tumour, and we were the hosts. So, I guess I lied. It's not that there's no time. It's - put bluntly - because there's no sentiment.

"Amachi-sama."

Hands on right knee. Left knee bent. Head down. Eyes to the ground. False respect for a woman 60 years out of her prime. Grandma, we called her. One of the 12 elders of Konoha, and a damn pointless one at that. What's the point of a shinobi who can't even bathe by herself? That's right - no point. A chore - a bother - to kneel before her, present her the report. Where the bloody hell was that big-breasted woman, anyways? A Hokage like that would serve her purpose better being a tavern wench. Her and that pink haired assistant. Woman inherently have more tools than men. Breasts. Ass. Hips. Legs-

"Yimang."

I sighed to myself. Most women had more tools. I discounted the gravelly, sand paper voice as a tool. I stand up, presenting her the report. Our fingers touch. I don't make a move. ANBU were trained. Torture was nothing. Keep the mind clear, the soul pure. Cleanse your thoughts. Close your - the wrinkled finger stretched over the backside of my palm.

I flinch.

She began to talk; I rubbed my hand. How often was I wrong? I reconsider my thoughts. Perhaps old women actually had more tools than the young ones.

Black leather cover, small gold S. Oh, Konoha have mercy. ANBU S-rank mission. I flip open the cover: "Eliminate Threat: Orochimaru." I frowned. Surely this is wrong. Run through by Konoha's missing-nin. Right through the mouth by the Uchiha's katana. So... what the bloody hell was this? I read on. Holy... holy Uzumaki. Orochimaru ate Uchiha. Then spat him out. Then they both walked away. I scratch my head. What?

3 masks: fox, rabbit, owl. ANBU masks. It's like it's dress up day... every day. I fidgeted. Four ANBU to take out the snake. Four. Not five, not six, not seven, but great bloody fucking four. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. How many teams were sent after the nine tails? ... every single one of them. Orochimaru might well be a goddamn tailed beast if he wouldn't be killed by the Uchiha. And Ms. Wrinkle Fingers wants to kill him... with four ANBU. I sigh. This is what happens when you put senile women in an elder's place. I should have suggested she be our fourth member instead of this new ANBU. I glance over at her. Yugao. Wife of Hayate; wife of the coughing man. Wife of the proctor, wife of ... I sigh again. Nothing ever rhymed properly. Oh, but in this case, "four ANBU" rhymes with "gets killed by Orochimaru" pretty nicely. I spit at the ground and toss a kunai into the air. The shadow lines up perfectly.

"Time to go. Let's hunt."

We're four blurred figures dashing through the night in the forest. I raise my hand; we land on a particularly thick branch. Seconds later, Yugao lands next to me with a small "thunk". I turn and scowl; she gives me an apologetic look. How do we kill the snake when we can't even be quiet?

"Remember the mission." I look at each one of them pointedly. "Fox, Rabbit - you cover left side. Owl, you're with me."

Three heads bob up and down. "Let's go. I'm sure Orochimaru has already prepared a welcome party for us. Let's find out what it is." We shoot off in a blur.

Kunai poised. Silence. The fucking statue spoke to us. Spoke.

Welcome... I ssee you've... found me... I'm... hardly ssurprised...

Right now, I don't know which I'd rather choose. The cold, pale flesh that Orochimaru was, or the wrinkled skin of Grandma. This is a choice that needs deep thought. Deep, deep thought. It'd take time. I sigh. Nothing ever goes right. I look over at Yugao. She looks at me. I slowly raise two fingers and shake them at the entrance: ANBU signals for "Captain first, you second."

I kick open the door. Press my back against the wall. It's cold. It's slimy. It's... wait, slimy? Fuck!

"Yugao! Mission Red!" I push myself off the wall, but it's way too late. Slimy, sticky skin awaits me. I press my hands together. Katon! The room lights up in flames, but the wet, sticky atmosphere never leaves. It's as if... his existence contaminates the very air. Snakes are coiled around my arms. Around my legs. There's one wrapping around my neck. ANBU? We never had a chance. I look over at Yugao. She's on the ground. And... Orochimaru stands next to her. He's smiling. My eyes close.

Silence. The one thing I've hated as an ANBU. It's deafening. It's as if one could see it. See the silence around me. Hn... smell it? Perhaps that's taking it too far. But it's there. Oh, yes, it's there. And it's condemning me to this place. Useless, futile mission. Pathetic, weak captain. I hope Yugao isn't dead. Fox, Rabbit, I hope they're okay. Only... I know they're not. I'm okay. But it's dark. If one can see silence, one could probably hear the darkness as well.

"Ack! Fuck!" Blinding light. I keep my eyes shut. Try to move my hands, my legs. I'm tied down. Drugged, perhaps. All I know is that I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe? Open my mouth. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Again. Do it again. Cough. Spit the bile out of my mouth. Open my eyes. I squint. He's there, standing in front of me in all his glory. He's there, watching me with that coy look. His eyes are black. Pure onyx black. It's the darkness you can hear. You can probably smell this one, though. And... dear Kami, he's naked.