.
.
In the darkness, Kimimaro could barely make out Kabuto's form as he sat across the monitor. It had been days since Kimimaro's first collapse, and Kabuto worked tirelessly to get him well.
A shadow fell, and Kimimaro blinked to see Orochimaru hovering over him.
"Kimimaro-kun," Orochimaru said. "It seems you have reached your limit."
"Forgive me..." Kimimaro coughed, flecks of blood spattering the white sheets. Orochimaru frowned.
In the mirror, Kimimaro could just make out his face. Blue-veined lids and skin the color of a runny egg, his maro mayu standing out like twin drops of blood. He was beautiful once. Useful. The vessel of Orochimaru's dreams.
"I am afraid you are of no use to me, Kimimaro-kun." Orochimaru glided toward the end of the bed, trailing a hand against the sheets as he moved. "I thought you would grow into something beautiful. A pity that I was wrong."
xXx
.
Kimimaro wakes to the feel of someone squirming against him, and he just barely has enough wits about him to realize it's Anko.
"Move," Anko says. She pushes up against the mat, roughly pushing against his arm.
"What--?" Kimimaro can barely get the words out when Anko situates herself against his back, her chest pressing against his shoulderblades.
"It's cold," Anko says. Her arms slide around his waist, and he hears her exhale a little. "Move over a little."
Kimimaro's eyes widen. "O-oi!"
Her arms slide up against his bare skin; her skin feels like ice. Kimimaro vaults upward, pushing Anko aside in the process.
"Dammit," Anko says, and she practically yanks him back down. "I don't bite. Lie down."
He feels her press an insistent hand against his shoulder, and he stiffly lies back onto his side. Slowly, he feels her curl up against him, pressing up against his back.
"You do realize I am your enemy, correct?" Kimimaro says. Anko makes an irritated noise and grips him harder.
"Fine," Kimimaro says. "Just do not be angry with me in the morning."
xXx
.
Time passes, and when her breathing evens, Kimimaro knows she is asleep. Awkwardly he turns on his side to face her, shifting her body against his chest. She is smaller than he would have originally supposed, and feather-light in his arms. It is a strange sensation, Kimimaro thinks. While she was awake, she would rage around the forest like a wounded bull, bellowing through the treetops and charging with reckless abandon. But now, sleeping here, Kimimaro can see just how small she really is. Gently, Kimimaro shifts her closer, softly tracing the line of her jaw, the delicate bones of her wrist and arm, fragile and birdlike and easily breakable in his hands. A shinobi, Kimimaro thinks, and he closes his eyes.
He is a shinobi. He, whose body is indestructible, whose shield of bone can withstand even the greatest of assaults, is suddenly overwhelmed with the terrible realization that this woman is not indestructible, she is not unbreakable, she is soft and vulnerable and utterly, horribly alone.
Anko breathes and burrows against him in her sleep; Kimimaro hitches her close, curling around her and pressing her against his chest. He shields her from the cold with his body, pressing his face into the crown of her hair.
xXx
.
A sliver of light pours through the crack in the door, and Kimimaro creeps forward, pulling the robe against his chest. He is still young - not quite seven - but the people are already speaking about him in furtive whispers.
"He cannot stay here." The council of elders crowd around the rickety table, partially obscuring the lamplight at the center of the room. "He is already beginning to manifest. We must contain him for our village's sake."
Kimimaro pulls back, hiding against the wall. He did a bad thing. His shoulder had dislocated and somehow his bone had shoved through the skin. He didn't mean to scare the others. He wouldn't do it again, he promised....
The door opens, and large hands grab Kimimaro roughly. "Wait!" Kimimaro says. He squirms but they grip him tight. "Please, I didn't mean it!"
"Monster!" He's being shoved, pulled in all directions, there's noises and voices and Kimimaro can't think, Kimimaro can't breathe, and when the bones explode he doesn't mean to.
His shoulder cracks as he slams onto the ground, the iron door slamming behind him.
He is not quite seven years old.
xXx
.
"I'm not attracted to you," Anko says.
Kimimaro stops. "What?"
Anko scowls, crossing her arms. "You heard me," Anko says. She pushes past him, hard. "Walking around with your shirt half open. It's fucking indecent."
"It is warm," Kimimaro says. "And must you always insist on verbalizing every thought that crosses your mind?"
Anko flips him the finger, a few paces ahead of him. Kimimaro sighs. "No better than a child," Kimimaro says. He catches up to her, retaking the lead.
Hours pass. Kimimaro shields his eyes, squinting and staring at the horizon. They are only a few days' trek from Orochimaru's hideout, but he decides to turn eastward, following the path of the river. Doing so would add at least a few days to the journey, and hopefully by then Kimimaro will have figured out what to do.
The woman is troublesome. Kimimaro had hoped she would have turned back by now, but her loud insistence that she keep going makes Kimimaro uneasy. "You should turn back," Kimimaro says.
"What?" Anko stumbles, swearing softly to herself. She swats at an invisible fly and glares at him. "The hell do you mean, turn back?"
"I mean turn back now, before Orochimaru-sama catches you," Kimimaro says. He turns his back to her, staring at the horizon. "He is nearing his transformation. If you interfere, I am not sure I can ensure your safety."
Anko scowls. "I don't need you to protect me," Anko says. She pushes past him, purposely knocking into his shoulder as she does. "I can take care of myself."
"I find that rather doubtful," Kimimaro says.
"Oi! Just because you tricked me and dragged me out here--"
"You dragged yourself out here. I told you I'd let you go," Kimimaro says.
"Whatever," Anko says. She pulls out a kunai, slashing at the brush. "I'm an ANBU captain. Show a little respect."
Kimimaro watches her, carefully. "I have been meaning to ask you about that," Kimimaro says.
"About what?" Anko says.
"Your captainhood," Kimimaro says. "Your taijutsu is lacking and your ninja abilities are less than inspired. I find it hard to believe someone of your ability can ascend to the ranks."
Anko face darkens. "Teme," Anko says. "You don't know anything about me."
"Don't I?" Kimimaro watches her, quietly.
"I was Orochimaru's chosen. Do not take me lightly," Anko says. Kimimaro shakes his head.
"You wear chain-mail head to toe, as if you are expecting to be struck," Kimimaro says, quietly. "Your stances are weak and your movements are reckless. And that you cover yourself with that coat shows an insecurity you are unwilling to face." He peers into her face, waiting for an answer. "Am I not wrong?"
"Teme!" Snakes explode from Anko's sleeve; Kimimaro barely has time to dodge.
"You summoned his snakes." Kimimaro stares, incredulous. "I was told only a sharingan user could emulate Orochimaru-sama's techniques."
"Hmph." Anko tucks her sleeve back. "To answer your question, I am a tokubetsu jounin. That is to say, I specialize in only one area. My taijutsu and genjutsu may not be formidible, but my ninjutsu is on par with any of the eye techniques in my village. They called me a genius, in my time."
"I see," Kimimaro says. Suddenly he understands exactly why Orochimaru had taken a liking to her: to master such advanced techniques without the advantage of having a dojutsu was beyond anything he had ever seen. "You are quite formidible, Anko-san," Kimimaro says, finally. "I apologize for doubting you."
"Good." Anko seems pleased. "So where the hell are we going, anyway? I thought we were heading north?"
xXx
.
They set up camp near the river, Kimimaro starting a modest fire while Anko curses and swears, trying to catch the fish nearby.
"Fucking impossible," Anko says. She sits heavily on a log, sagging, slightly. "I'm starving. I'm all skin and bones."
Kimimaro tosses a branch into the fire. Anko stretches and yawns, curling up on her side. "Hey, Kimimaro?"
"Hmm?"
"You really think my chain-mail's overdoing it?" She props herself up on her elbows, watching him with wide eyes.
"It is a bit excessive, yes," Kimimaro says. "You would probably move better without it."
"Huh." Anko stares at the fire, and Kimimaro can't help but notice how the firelight flickers softly on her face. "I guess it is a little silly. Like a security blanket. But it doesn't keep you from getting hurt." Anko's face darkens, slightly. "When Orochimaru defected from the village, a lot of people were killed. I only survived because I was wearing this."
"Perhaps he spared you because you were his pupil," Kimimaro says. Anko glares.
"I don't understand how you can follow that man," Anko says. "You're not even his vessel anymore, you don't owe him anything--"
"I owe him everything," Kimimaro says. He stares at his hands. "Orochimaru-sama believed in me. Without him, I would be nothing."
"Would you be happy?" Anko says. She stares at the fire, the orange firelight flickering softly. "With him, I mean. Does he make you happy?"
Kimimaro watches the flame. "I don't know," Kimimaro says.
xXx
.
She falls asleep, and Kimimaro watches the rise and fall of her belly, the slow, rhythmic movement of her breath. Her eyelids flutter like butterfly's wings, and Kimimaro can't help but think that she looks beautiful.
If she were an enemy, he would better know how to deal with her - not these complicated emotions, not this pang of regret. He thinks of Orochimaru and how he used her, too.
She was not made to be used. Not like him. She is broken and battered inside, and quietly he wonders if she would always be alone.