Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Bathing in Blood
19. Savoir Vivre
'I am wealthy and of noble birth:
Who else is there like me?
I shall pay for religious rituals,
I shall make benefactions,
I shall enjoy myself.'
Thus they say in their darkness of delusion.
-The Bhagavad Gita
Mitarashi Anko's scowling eyes surveyed the vast zoo of youth spread before her. A true menagerie, it was; a diverse display of raw emotion laid bare. Like captive animals, controlled by troublesome instincts that should have been obliterated by evolution eons ago.
Instincts that, given the opportunity, could be exploited for her personal enjoyment.
She grinned toothily at the procession of young ninja wannabes shuffling apprehensively into the curtained huts to receive their scrolls. This place was a psychiatrist's paradise. She had yet to see one of these young shinobi who appeared unmoved. Some were trembling with anxiety, literally shaking in their shoes. Others chattered nervously among themselves, as if by allowing their frayed nerves to take flight in the form of words, they would be suddenly freed from the horrible burden of emotion.
That was a laughable thought.
And it was funny, in a sadistic sort of way, to revel in their squalid misery. Because their fate had no bearing on hers as a proctor, because she had no reason to empathize with their wretchedness. She was merely an observer here, and didn't care to be anything more. Just sitting back and studying the subjects that wandered into her field of vision was more than enough; watching the ones who'd seemed so smug in the classroom fall down on their knees and pray with the rest of them. All were equals, if only for one moment, brought to a standstill by the terror—
Wait. Anko reined in her exultations, sifting through the weepy ranks to find the unlucky target that had caught her attention. Am I really seeing this? Focusing on the pale girl with the shoulder-bag and outrageous, glaring rose-colored hair, standing stoically at the head of the line. Looking for all the world as if she wasn't affected in the slightest by the scare tactics that had her peers petrified. Alone; untouched in a seething sea of fear.
Something had to be done about this.
I imagine she thinks she's quite special. One of those arrogant types, the kind that thinks she's goddamned immortal. Or so the examiner could only assume, making her spur-of-the-moment analysis as she strode over to the target. It's about time someone took her off of her freakin' high horse.
She brushed aside the timid genin like flies, though most had shrunken from her as soon as she'd drawn near. Adding another layer to the flawless façade that had worked to put so many others in their place, placing her hands firmly on her hips, bending to be at eye level with the insolently impervious little brat.
Not exactly the best place to be...
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The classically confident inflection, infused with a healthy amount of authority. "Don't you have better things to do than dye your hair pretty colors? Like, as in, train, to build up your pathetic lack of chakra?" Ruffling the cherry-blossom locks teasingly, Anko delved deeper into her spiel with zest.
"Awww, why so quiet, Pinky? Why aren't you scared like all your little friends? Oh, I know...you probably have some amazing, kick-ass secret power that will kill all of us at the drop of a hat." Now for the intimidating leer... and the punch-line. "Or maybe you're just too cocky and ignorant for your own damn good!"
The instructor broke into a harsh peal of laughter as punctuation, mentally counting off the seconds before the outburst of sobs arrived. Gradually, the pink head turned in her direction as the words began to register in a distant brain. Before she could react, the jade eyes were drilling into her, as they had so many other unfortunates.
What the hell is this? Some mind jutsu?
And then the green flashed.
As the inevitable waves flooded an all-too-open mind, Anko felt the familiar throbbing pain creeping slowly into her neck. Why is the curse seal acting up now? She could only wonder as the world spun wildly around, only to right itself and return to the way it had always been.
Sasuke shivered as he felt the shadows of the trees above him crawling over his spine. He looked longingly over one shoulder at the black tent-like entrance. The barbed-wire fence would have been more attractive, but he was on the wrong side of it now. As if to contradict his yearnings, he heard the forest calling him too, entreating him to take that next step forward, and the next, and the one after that. Reprimanding his reluctance, repeating the one fact that he knew.
The only way to get out is to keep on going.
Sharingan eyes narrowed at the pink-haired girl and the blonde-haired boy, standing a few feet ahead. She had the scroll, the scroll that the proctor in the fishnet bodysuit had said was so important. And Sasuke, or rather, the voice in his head, certainly wouldn't put up with that.
Are you going to let a specter control the outcome of this exam? It whined, persuasively enough. Are you going to let the dead control your fate? Are you going to let someone else think for you?
It had become almost rhetorical. That wasn't what an Uchiha did. That just wouldn't do.
What does an Uchiha do, then?
"Give me...scroll." His words were mumbled, jumbled, crumbled and hacked to pieces. Always say 'please' when you're asking for something...
"Please... give me... scroll." He said it again, louder this time, trying to force a commanding tone through vocal cords long unused and at the same time attempting to appease the mysterious presence that had somehow surfaced. Surely the other voice would kill it off, soon enough. As long as he got the scroll, nothing mattered.
"Please...give me...scroll!" Almost shouting at the pink-haired thing, he was. He realized this wasn't working.
And then he realized how pointless it all was. Why was he, Uchiha Sasuke, yelling at a ghost? Without time for another useless reflection, he lunged at the despicable cotton-candy monster and the precious cylinder in its bony grasp. He clawed for it desperately, snatching at the parchment, until he felt its shape finally slip into his own victorious hands. Stroking his treasure protectively, the raven-haired boy crouched behind a log, starting up a lively conversation with himself to rejoice in his skillful ultimatum of triumph.
Naturally, he didn't see Sakura slide the real scroll into the untapped depths of her shoulder-bag.
Naruto stared at the absurd, almost comical scene that had unfolded before his eyes. What an opportunity to berate his rival! He burst into a fit of nervous snickers. Was this really Sasuke?
"Hahaha...fancy this! The Uchiha Sasuke, acting like the spoiled little cry-baby brat he really is! Hahahaha! What a-" He stopped his laughter abruptly, as if some deranged script-writer had censored his sentence. The Uchiha Sasuke gazed at him blankly from his seat behind the fallen tree trunk, hugging the scroll as if his life depended on its existence in his arms.
Was this really Sasuke?
