"Back in my village, I used to be told all the time I had beautiful hands. Whether it was my father or mother or someone politely complimenting me, no one understood how much I hated hearing that. Beautiful hands? What use did I have for that? But people kept giving me the same compliment over and over again. I would brush them off and ignore them, but they just thought I was being coy. They couldn't understand this tightening hatred that grew beneath the skin every time the words left their mouths."

My skin prickled uncomfortably as Kabuto watched my lips moving, spewing a personal story to him as an after thought. Something about the encounter with Tayuya. . . I felt the need to placate Kabuto. His tender first aid while waiting for Orochimaru's appearance told me he derived no pleasure from this. The fact that he left me in silence with my own folly was the greatest comfort I could receive, even if he didn't know that.

"So I jacked them up. I began working at the blacksmith's shop as an apprentice and began learning hand to hand combat. I worked as often as I could without gloves or wrapping my hands. A few days and blisters began forming. And suddenly all I heard was 'Be careful! Look at your hands! Put on your gloves. Lotion. Why would you want a hobby like that?' And I knew some things no one would ever understand because they aren't me. My words aren't feelings to them. So I happily ruined them and watched the people find other ways to compliment me. But it was still so hollow. I knew my shinobi training was progressing badly. I knew how sloppy the tools I made were, but the noise wouldn't stop. I came to Otogakure knowing those words wouldn't follow."

The room was silent and still, static filling the pause until she felt her arm move chest high as Kabuto lifted it, his hands fitting into hers stroking and inspecting it. He had chosen the hand with the unfeeling pinky and ring fingers. Bowing his head, his tongue darted out over them, uselessly drawing them into his mouth. She watched impassively as he suckled them. (It somehow felt like a bad joke was being played on her) "Tatsumi, you have well worn hands."

It was her turn to inspect her hands. Calloused, cut, mangled fingers. Tough, thick skin. Nails torn short with dirt beneath them. They were mannish on a polite day. As a woman it should have shamed her. But her lips twitched up and something inside her relaxed as sincere words could finally be spoken. "Thank you."

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. Something tense and destroying filled her as her words escape. It was like the feeling back at the buraku village. Dear God.

Unceremoniously, her hands were dropped as Kabuto was suddenly busying himself on the other side of the room. The atmosphere intensified. Orochimaru was here.

She was sure he was angry. His posture was relaxed and a smile was on his face, but all he did was stare at her. She couldn't bring herself to beg forgiveness. That game wasn't on the table. He was a brand of humiliated angry, the kind that only was placated by returning the favor. Tatsumi knew better than to speak at all, even if the silence was suffocating, but she kept the eye contact only to feel, all at once, something give way. I'm so tired. Tender touches fanned over her body as an analytical check put Orochimaru on the same page as Kabuto.

So tired.

"We have much to discuss, my dear. Where would you like to start?"

No matter how I play, I feel like I lose. [But we started this.]

A tight grip held her chin as his face came closer to hers. "I suppose I could start for you, if you like. How about at the blatant disrespect shown to me after you so flagrantly altered your mission directive?"

I start so many things, but am never satisfied. [Do you know how to win?] No. I'm tired.

Tatsumi felt a cosmic shift and suddenly knew she was going to die soon. [You won't answer.]

Was this ever about the scroll?

Malicious tendrils of chakra wrapped around her and scenes of her death played over her musings.

I think I lost before that. The ones that gather here are the weak, wounded, and pathetic grasping at straws. [Why are you weak?]

"The pills."

Tatsumi shook her head and muttered, "No. Not that." A momentary pause before Tatsumi realized the voice came from the other side of the room. Orochimaru turned to fully face Kabuto, sparing her a side glance.

"I see you also failed that order." A coldness spread over Tatsumi's body at the amusement in his voice. Whether it was because he actually had expected to keep it a secret or was happy for the timing of her failing she hadn't a clue.

The quiet in the room stretched out between the three of them. When Orochimaru finally made his move, neither Tatsumi nor Kabuto outwardly reacted. Laughter filled Tatsumi's head. (She was still tired) Kabuto followed orders. (Didn't he always?)

.

.

.

(Neither understood who was being humiliated by this)

A/N: Is it a tease to not update in like 3 years and then update on a cliffhanger in a chapter that looks like Kabuto is putting the moves on Tatsumi? Yes. And it's sooooooooo short. Sorta figured better than nothing.

Also I hate this cliffhanger ending. It ended because I couldn't find a nice way to transition to the next scene. I like write stories as the scenes play out in my head and it was weird. A long pause of everyone standing around was stuck there even though I know what happens the literal next second. IDK. (Next chapter torture porn. Yeah. And psychological reprogramming! And loads more!)

I need a badger. Like not even someone to review and remind me to update, just somebody to bitchslap me once a week to get stuff done. (Still love you Marshmellow regardless.)