Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the characters mentioned within. Spoilers for Shippuden Sai/Sasuke arc.


He did not think about it.

Even when the wind, driving leaves across the expanse of the Tenchi Bridge, brought with it the lilting light voice of a third party, he did not think about it.

It wasn't that he was incapable of recognizing or processing the voice in the split second before it was followed up with a materialization. It was simply that he did not immediately know who the voice belonged to, beyond the fact that it belonged to an intruder.

After all, he couldn't say one way or the other whether Orochimaru had taken the time to talk to his experiments. Yamato had been so young then, just a baby, and his memories did not extend to that.

"That conversation sounds interesting," came the words, followed by the man himself and a mockingly polite request to join in.

Mission reports and file folders had ensured that Yamato was well familiar with the Snake Sanin's face. Long ago, Ibiki had recommended that he be given access to them as a method to put a face and name to the formless, directionless terror that used to wake him up as a child. For a time, in fact, Yamato'd been quite focused on the man.

His fingers in particular.

They were so thin, you see. The photograph that showed them best had captured Orochimaru mid-gesture. At first Yamato had been very bothered that they had looked so delicate. Eventually he decided that it made sense since thin blades often did a great deal of damage.

Shortly after he received the files, he was promoted to the ranks of ANBU. As wise minds had predicted, the new position and duties ended his burgeoning obsession quite neatly.

ANBU faced enough challenge and fear on an almost daily basis so that there was not much room left for older, more subtle ghosts. Plus, the mindset of calm control that ANBU taught its recruits served Yamato better than most.

That's why, even once he recognized Orochimaru, Yamato's thoughts did not divert from the mission. Was he followed? Was he discovered?

He did not think of anything else, even when Orochimaru began extolling the virtues of child spies and test subjects that could be reused. Just tactics. Ways to beat the enemy. To get his team out alive.

In fact, eve n when Orochimaru recognized him, he did not think about it.

…did not think about the mother and father he'd never know. Or the dubious, reluctant care their replacements had provided him.

…did not think about how hard it had been to learn friendship and camaraderie as an abandoned experiment, or how he still had problems accepting the affection of others.

…did not think about how, despite the fact that he had no conscious memory of what had been done to him, the unconscious memories would always be there. They rose up less frequently now, only sucking him down and strangling when he found himself unexpectedly faced with lab equipment or, as one poor medic had found out, surprised by brandished needles.

But they existed, nevertheless. They were a part of him, unseen. Just like the DNA that had become inextricably entangled with his own.

No. He thought about none of those things when first faced with Orochimaru, or during the battle that came after.

But later, after the mission report had been filed and he'd sat down on his bed to look blankly into the growing darkness in his simple apartment…

No.

He would not think about it.

He closed his eyes instead, and tried to sleep.