Silence of the Mojitos

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto!

Chapter Three: Amalgamation

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First Wave

Orochimaru had a mission. He'd had a mission for nearly twenty years. And he was so close, so tantalizingly close to accomplishing it, and relaying the joyous news to his master when the work was done, when almost two decades of effort came to fruition and he could finally die happy—

"Oh stop it," Suigetsu scoffed, "Quit pulling their leg. You're talking about Orochimaru, not Itachi."

The hermit was ready to take something large and blunt to the boy's head. "What the dickens do you mean?"

"There was no master," Suigetsu rolled his eyes, "Orochimaru designated that mission to himself. Just like the white haired pervert embarked on a journey to become the biggest, well, pervert. Just like the giant jug woman swore she'd have the biggest breasts east of Shanghai."

"I don't like you," the old man said flatly.

"The feeling's mutual," Suigetsu said detachedly, "Story."

The breakthrough was imminent—Orochimaru could taste it. He could feel it in his dreams, and it haunted his waking hours. He became ever more obsessed. The man could vaguely sense the result, the thesis, the implications. He could piece together the various outcomes of various experiments and come up with the answer, or what he guessed to be the answer.

He could taste it. He'd been so close—and then the breakout had occurred. And then he'd been killed.

Immortality. Like some sort of really rude lap dancer, it had teased him, and then removed herself permanently from his grasp.

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Second Wave

By some will of an unnamed god, Sasuke found the strength to move enough to call the reception for a meal. Blatantly vegetarian, he made sure they knew. He didn't think he could stomach anything more now.

Sasuke knelt on the bed to eat, but couldn't. The miso soup somehow morphed into blood, the ginger strips transformed into cured flesh, and the bread was suddenly skin. Revulsion overcame him, and he threw the tray to the wall in an enraged fit, anguish crashing over him again. After some time he berated himself. He had no money. He had no business breaking things here when he was going to gyp them out of their due payment in any case. Besides, he needed to eat, he needed to move. It would only be so long before Suigetsu showed up here.

That thought sent him careening into a foggy mire of memories. Oh, he was so sick of memories. Memories of his brother, memories of Naruto, and now of Suigetsu? Why couldn't anything good in his life stay put? And if it wouldn't stay put, why did it have to come into his life at all? You couldn't miss what you never knew. Sasuke would gladly exchange his periods of happiness (followed by times of grief so powerful he was surprised it didn't kill him outright) for a life of indifference.

He nearly had.

But Suigetsu had broken through.

Soft hair, so nice to touch. Eyes that saw through his barriers, eyes that drew him into sparkling conversation, eyes that held such adoration for him. A Cheshire cat grin that was eternally hinting at innuendo. Strong, capable arms; large, rough hands; long, delicate fingers.

"Like what you see?"

"Suppose I say yes. What would you do?" Sasuke had been curious.

"Bend you over a desk and ram the little general up your—"

"Stop. Stop! The motions, stop the motions. I'm sorry I asked."

"I'm not." The smile was so genuine and warm, Sasuke had been tempted to smile back. He'd resisted that particular temptation, but had soon made up by giving in to him in a totally different way…

It was so hot, and sweaty, Sasuke figured he'd start melting anytime soon. Suigetsu was a water being, who gave him permission to do such things to the Uchiha's body that set it aflame? Fire element or not, Sasuke was going to die…but Suigetsu was so cool and inviting to touch, he just couldn't stop himself…

He buried his face in his hands, ashamed at the arousal that snaked through his body. And he was back at square one.

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Third Wave

Note: when clots of blood get stuck in water-skin, they crystallize and proceed to hurt painfully until you dig them out with a knife. And guess what? That shit hurts too.

Suigetsu gnawed on his own thumb as he surveyed the carnage before him. He hadn't meant to kill the warrior. He hadn't even meant to cross paths with anyone until he'd found Sasuke. He hadn't planned on eating any human flesh until he'd met up with the boy either. He could live on rabbit food—or the rabbits themselves—for a few days.

Time to work, in any case.

He decapitated the woman first, and then cut off her hands and feet. Catching the spilt blood in a cup to use as seasoning later, he buried the appendages in the cold earth. There was no need to litter; nature would do a swell job of decomposing unwanted bits. Then, taking a finer knife, he slit her body from the neck to the junction of her legs. He removed her skin with an expert's ease, surreptitiously glancing around in an idiosyncratic manner to assure that he wasn't being watched.

He took out her less edible organs—he'd never cared for a liver, and kidneys were disgusting. The stomach had to go—no way was he eating half digested puke. Spleen, bladder, intestines, and genitals all found their way to a growing pile of discarded parts that sat in the dusky darkness like parts of an incomplete Halloween costume.

Cleanly cutting her flesh into strips, he got a fire going and, after scrutinizing his surroundings and finding no conveniently placed rosemary or thyme bushes (where were they when you needed them?) shrugged and brought out his pouch of spices. It had once belonged to the prison cook, but the man would hardly need it now, what with being dead and all.

Soon, the air was tinged with the tang of meat. Suigetsu's meal was ready. Clever eyes scanned the horizon where there was a tell tale haze of smoke signifying a village. Sasuke would have gone there. It was the closest thing to civilization here in this godforsaken wasteland.

Just wait for me, babe, he thought desperately, Just give me a chance to show you. I'll make you see the light, and believe me when I say you'll love me again.

But a nasty voice in the back of his head retorted, As if anyone could ever love you, you big freak. Why would he want you when he doesn't know if he'll be your next meal?

Why indeed.

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That 'really rude lap dancer' line is from Jason of cowsgomoo(dot)com.