Mission: ANBU

Contents: It has slight gore, death, no pairing.

It was a simple mission. He slipped under the shadows of moonlight, cutting past thin doors of wood and smell of fresh grass. Passing through sentries, piercing through Japanese armory, awaiting. For the rushing steps on opaque noises to arrive.

It wasn't required to stay camouflaged inside the night, he needed to execute every single enemy of that fortress. They readied their stances and spirits. Drawn their katana and hurled. Flew.

And stopped. And prepared. And ended.

Always ended. That's the extension of his competence.

He surrounded many adversaries, his nimble form dancing with many spears and swords, giving them their closing curtains. Arms and legs extended trying to rip his skin though they always fell victim to his manipulating strings.

As he observed. Look.

They bowed, arched in exhaustion and fell in pained grunts. Breaths exhaled and never more. Beginning the sound of dismantled orchestra.

Muscles strained. An arm flew astray. Everything spiraled in his center, shocked by the whirlwind and devastated. Encircling.

Legs fell to where the head had soared when a hand abandoned while arms entangled with stomach and eyes and more…

He moved them like a dissatisfied puppeteer with his imperfect dolls, touching and dismantling so easily, like he was unscrewing wooden limbs. They even disassembled in synchronizing rhythm, leaping up and resting down to the sound of his heartbeats.

His feet slid through crimson tatami, wafting remembrance and searching for irregular noises of life.

And indeed, he had found.

"You—" An inexperienced voice hiccupped. "How could you—Himura, Toushirou, Genma…they were good people!" Trembling eyes accused. "Th-th-they—they—had. Family—and you—You…"

He recalled, that even though he didn't have the obligation to kill everyone inside the mansion, he had a target.

"You—!" Petite hands clenched fiercely the grip of his weapon as young body determined himself to fight, at meantime of many his fallen comrades across the room.

His target was the descendant of a feudal lord that would risk against the current sovereign of his country.

His infantile demeanor could be noticed from his unperfected battle stance. Though simpler was the fact that his whole shuddering blunder fit exactly inside his vision, glowering with hatred and fear, natural that he would find against any foe. The young boy still had the regal nobleness bestowed by high education, ready to defend honor and speak forth to his vessels.

He would be a good leader. A good person.

Someone who'll be able to raise an army and start a rebellion, instigating millions of deaths in this process.

So he only approached soundlessly towards the infant, reveling a gasp and covering the vision with one hand.

A senbon accurately piercing on the neck gave a painless ease, the boy collapsed unhurriedly with a wet whimper spilling on his throat for his last second.

He picked up the katana and shuffled inside the richly decorated scabbard, as a collected proof of his success in mission. He prepared once again, to melt in the air and end the night.

He spared some seconds though, to slip slightly his humanity and collect a dewdrop away from his whiskered cheek.

AN: Being ANBU must suck. That's what I've always thought about this profession. The next chapter will be the continuation and will have NaruSasu but meh…I wanna sleep…XD

(pauses) this is still a T rated fic, right?