{{Ruins}} [Anko]

[Orochimaru]

Nothing seemed to be in this place but the derelict of abandon. It was rather disheartening to see what time did to everything, how it turned things that had once been new and healthy into old, deserted shambles. But that was the shifty way of change, the inevitable fate everything suffered in a world of unstoppable transience. And yes, it was unpleasant to know that you were part of that very same cycle that caused everything to wilt away and be forgotten. Still, it was satisfying, also, when you knew you had beaten the way of things so far, you had risen above it as he had.

A casual glance over his shoulder, from among silky, long strands of black hair whose touch caressed his shoulder as they swished along with the turn of his head, revealed the traces of his own footsteps through the dust on the floor. His gaze stopped at the entrance door, which he had closed behind him a few minutes ago, and the ancient, dried stains of blood that covered it in various spots. The golden eyes glimmered in the little light that came from a few holes in the roof, sooner than from the windows, seeing as to how thick curtains still covered them, no matter their moth-ridden state. Moreover, dirt had added itself to the panes, plastered into a dimming crust of natural paint that murdered all transparency the glass may have once had.

Strangely, Orochimaru felt pleased to be here, to see how this place was dying, while he thrived still. Slowly, with a twitch small enough to nearly not be there at all, his lips were thinned into a little smirk, an offering to his own accomplishments. He turned his head away from his tracks, and his mind away from the past whose state thrilled him so, to focus on the present moment, and maybe on the future. He hadn't really come here to reaffirm his greatness by comparing himself with the pitiful remnants of his activities in this place. He was a man far more practical than going all this way just to quench the egocentric thirst of self-satisfaction. But if that was an added bonus to his real goal, it didn't bother him at all.

He walked further, emerging into the full radius of the lamp he had lit earlier and placed onto the table in the room, to illuminate what little it could of his passage. Strange, but located between these dying walls, the object seemed worn and old itself, as the newly polished metal rims of it quickly stole from the layer of dust that adorned everything around it. Still, its light was enough to reveal the first few steps of a staircase that descended below the floor, towards a pair of doors that hung open. But the darkness beyond those was nearly impossible to pierce with such meager means, and from that distance.

That was where he needed to go, in the basement. Back in the time he had abandoned this complex, this small farmstead on a remote island, when he had killed most of the test subjects it hosted, he hadn't imagined he would need that again. And now it turned out that he did have a most impending use for it, that drove him all the way here to search. Times did change... and, though he was able to anticipate many things, he didn't always get them right. But that was the best part of it, after all.

Humored by that small reminder of life's rather twisted and indirect ways, Orochimaru began to descend towards that darkness that hid buried old secrets. He usually didn't like to dig out his failed attempts that he had already moved on from, but just this one time... he could make an exception.

[Mitarashi Anko]

In every deluded sense of the word, she was soothed in this disheartening place. Strange how this plot of painful memories was the one in which she found solitude, a salvation all in its own. The only area in which she felt truly alone, undisturbed by the everyday events and belongs that so burdened a person until their very soul gave way and the person collapsed within themselves. And this place that she hated so was the only place in which she could hide from these things until she had recovered that small bit of sanity that keeps even the desperate living.

But that was not the reason she had come today. No. No, this place was calling her, but the reason why was murky. Other than the fact that she hadn’t paid a visit for awhile, she could think of nothing that would cause the place to beckon to her. It was not, after all, a place she loved to be. In fact it was quite the opposite. But there were those times where she had to return, the strings of her heart and mind pulling her away from home to sleep in the abandoned place. Had it missed her? Is that why it called? Certainly not! It was nothing but an old building, a stepping stone in her past, an inanimate object that had no emotion. Its walls could tell no tales.

But perhaps she had needed to rest, take a break from her life as it was. She stood directly outside the building. No, she leaned against the stone wall, already beginning to crumble from its old age. The familiar musty smell greeted her nostrils, though her senses were not keen to welcome the old scent, and her lower face altered some as her nose wrinkled slightly in response. Grit dug into her flesh while she pressed her forehead against a cold, dirty rock, not yet cracked or withered from its aging. A gentle, contented sigh escaped from her lips as she pulled away from her position, brushing her fingertips across the lower wall before slipping noiselessly into the compound.

There was a dampness in the entryway, cold against her face as she turned away from the darkness before her. She was aware of the moment in which her pupils had dilated to the full requirement. Beams of light previously unnoticed struck her eyes, causing the shadowed outlines of objects to become apparent within the room. She passed in her movements, her gaze scanning them quickly to unsure that nothing had been moved since the last time she had paid a visit.

But something was different.

Anko was not entirely sure of herself as she squatted down, her fingers sliding across the thick layer of dust that had accumulated over the years. Dust that she had often thought of sweeping away, but had stopped herself in hopes of keeping the place the same. The filth that covered the ground belonged there, as it had always belonged there, and removing it would only hurt the atmosphere of the building. Hurting the atmosphere meant harming her memories, but more importantly, her time of solitude.

But it had recently been disturbed. Upon inspection, the prints were larger than her own. Placing her foot within the hole, she confirmed it before taking large strides across the room, careful to remain within the already made stepping areas. The person was still inside, for no prints led out, unless that person had used another exit. Anko would find him, for surely it was a him, and she silently wished that the other being inside with her was not the person she believed him to be.

[Orochimaru]

Orochimaru guided himself in the dark with the tips of his fingers, brushing them against wooden shelves that were stacked along the walls, some of them having collapsed from being eaten by decay. He stepped swiftly over the fallen planks of wood on the floor, and maintained the general direction that they still managed to point out to him. He knew this place, even after all this time, the same way he knew the one he was currently using as his base. Or even better... Every single pillar of those that supported the ceiling in its place above his head, each one of the niches in the wall, that had once hosted a test subject, sedated or comatose, or simply bound and too weak to free itself. They were all familiar to him, even after all these years.

Slowly, his eyes grew more accustomed to the pitch-black darkness, to its almost material-like composure that stretched everywhere around, without discriminating between the things it touched, sneaking into each and every corner all the same. When he had entered, it almost gave the impression that, should he reach out his hand, he would touch its fibers and actually feel them against his skin. But, as it happened with all things when contact was prolonged, that effect was more lost on him the longer he stayed down here, until it was gone completely. He had never been one to seek the light instinctually, as most humans did, anyway. By society's standards, his type of activities were to be condemned, and light should never touch them at all. So he had adapted.

And there he was, in the corner, in front of a pile of collapsed wood and bricks, where he stopped to squint swiftly and peer down through those remains, that had undoubtedly buried what he sought below them. A couple of rats scuttled away from his path, marking their passage with mild squeaking noises, as he crouched to his haunches and reached out a hand, brushing some of the debris aside. It was dirty. He could feel some substance or another, or maybe a mix of more, stick to his skin as he dug into the pile, and leave an oily feel slightly different from that of plain dust. It had to be spider webs, covered with something greasy and old that had probably been in one of the jars. He didn't bother to recall the memories of what he had been storing there from the distant corner of his mind where they hid.

He continued to search methodically, his patience coming to a test that he was determined to pass, and finally he was rewarded with the feel of metal. He traced the object's smooth, small lines, wiping it clean of the same type of substance before pulling it out in one swift move. He noticed the different shades that, even in the darkness, marked the stains left on his unnaturally pale skin. But it was probably nothing he hadn't worked with before... maybe even something of his own creation, from the mixing of many other things. And still, it didn't even matter in the face of the fact that he had found what he came for.

Orochimaru stood up, fluidly, the casual wonder of whether the sink further along the wall was still functional drifting through his mind almost as quickly as his own move was made. Without rush, he headed that way, watching his steps over a portion of floor that he felt was slippery. It was the water, he realized, leaking from one of the pipes, in tiny droplets. This must have been the case for a long while, if such a puddle had had enough time to gather down there.

He left that behind, as well, switching the tap open as he found the sink, careful not to touch its edge and rub the dust off of it with his clothes. There was rumbling somewhere behind the walls and below the sink, and no water emerged during the first few seconds, but finally, a tiny rivulet flowed down. It had a somewhat rough and stingy calcarous feel when it befell the skin, but he was able to wash clean his hand and the small object he had retrieved earlier: a key.

A few moments later, as Orochimaru found himself back at the base of the stairs, ready to ascend back into the room above and unlock the door to the secret he had come to seek, a small sound reached his ears. A sound that he hadn't caused, and nor had the rats that he was leaving behind in the basement, because... it came from up there. It could be Kabuto... but the man recalled a very recent scene, where he instructed the white-haired boy to wait for him some place else and not come in here.

Intrigued, he ushered himself out of the dank cellar, his shoulder brushing barely against the edge of the door; it was stuck and he had been unable to widen the gap anymore than the exact amount he needed to sneak inside. Without the use of any jutsu, at least, a thing that he hadn't intended to bother with for such a small endeavor. He peered upwards with curiosity, as his hand dropped the key into a pocket and he began to walk upwards, towards what now seemed like a radiantly illuminated area, after the darkness he'd been roaming down behind.

[Mitarashi Anko]

Literally walking in someone else’s footsteps was a rather difficult thing. The length of his strides was longer than her usual step, making it uncomfortable to place her own feet within the disturbed areas to avoid tainting the surface any further. But Anko continued in this way, wondering why she was doing so, for it was not like it mattered much if the dust was trampled upon. It was only dust, after all.

Her entire body stiffened as cold little feet scurried across her shoes, a long scaly feeling tail dragging over her toes. The urge to cry out was halted in the back of her throat only by not wanting to be discovered quite yet, so she swallowed the sound and shuddered at the feeling the rodent had left behind. She stifled the gag reflex, curling her toes in disgust to rid herself of the grimy feeling left behind.

A low sound caught her attention. A grinding noise, perhaps? No. More like a rumbling. Or a mix. The sound of fluids running through unused, old pipes. Then what was her company doing? Washing an object of some sort? That had to be it, unless he had stuck his hands in something he hadn’t intended to. But the first possibility was more probable. So what item was it that was now in his possession, and what did he want it for?

Her figure trembled, a mixture of feeling taking hold of her body. Whether it was excitement or fear, she never knew. But it was both and yet neither at all. It pulsed inside of her, compelling her steps forward, taking her own stride and walking besides the prints already there, showing her the way towards what was down below. It was no longer herself that was controlling her actions, but a hidden force wanting to advance, to meet this person who may or may not be a stranger.

She was frozen, standing there, having just crossed over the invisible line marking the halfway point of the room. Realization washed over her, for she could feel the closeness of that man; she knew he was just out of her sight. A small cloud of dust rose as her foot came down again, moving her towards the stairway that she faced.

He was down there.

[Orochimaru]

The stairs gave small creaks, even under the light footsteps of someone who, as he, was curious enough to mind how many signs of presence they gave away. He could mold chakra and easily maintain the silence of his passage by those means, but there was little point in it by now, as the person above would have already taken note of the tracks he had left earlier in the dust. And he was receiving a greeting, or so the light footfalls that approached the stairway from up there would denote. Besides, though approaching someone from the shelter of concealment and having the pleasure of seeing fearful surprise overtake human features was always an interesting thing to do, so was showing yourself directly, with a clean view of the initial shock that such nerve induced to them.

Orochimaru was about midway along when he had to come to the halt he had been anticipating, and to regard the figure that stood there, upon the last step, hesitant. He was as much within her plain sight as she was in his, and likely just as easy to recognize. For yes, he did know her well, that person that his gaze was now locked upon, and the last figure he would expect to see here, in the place that held many memories they had in common. Or maybe she was the very first one that would come, after all, with the mark on her body, irremovable, reminding her of that day spent in this very compound, when she had received it. Now, turned into the mark of abandon.

The only thing he would face her with was eyes full of intrigue, and of question for her motives. Orochimaru's heart held no feelings of a so-called positive nature, but he always did wonder what people thought, especially those his past was connected with this closely. His mind worked quickly to recall the familiar name -- Mitarashi, Anko -- of the girl, now a woman, who had once been his apprentice, whom he had taught a good measure of what he knew, keeping the rest to himself in as pleasing a selfish manner as usual. The poor, deluded young one who had thought he truly cared, that he would really attach himself to anything when he could roam in the search of knowledge instead. And the older version that he faced right now, the one that knew how wrong she had been and bore him a grudge, as anyone whose trust had been betrayed would do.

Pity. The guilt for betrayal was theirs, in the first place, for being too naive to consider that it would happen. For actually giving that trust, to start with. But it was a difficult accomplishment, to actually blame yourself for anything that went wrong, and people often preferred to choose the variant where others were guilty and they were only the poor victim. It was a flaw of human nature, and as any other such flaws, it had its own appealing side. Perfection was calm, boring stillness, while struggling against shortcomings stirred things into thrilling motion.

Orochimaru felt something form into his chest, a small pressure that prodded impedingly for an exit. His lips parted slightly, creating a small gap through which a low chuckle emitted, teasing, exuding that false benevolence that he always seemed to have. It was a natural and a controlled impulse at the same time; a combination of what he truly felt like doing and of nuances that he had wittingly added as a substratum. He had the patience to play this game, to always greet his former pupil with a carelessness that seemed foolish in itself, but was played like one of the strongest cards.

This encounter... resembled much of their last one, except it was a lot less intentional, without her coming with such foolish thoughts as a self-destructive act that hoped to kill him. But the common point was still the same: he no longer had a use for her, and he never would have one again. He was never sure, but he thought a remote corner of her mind, whose existence she would, of course, stubbornly deny, just couldn't live with that idea. He had that effect on people... or, more likely, the way he exploited their weaknesses and manipulated their thought patterns did. They'd be ready to forgive him anything, should he show the smallest sign of repentance. But he didn't, and that stabbed their old wounds with a new knife.

He said nothing, but resumed his approach, not liking the illusion of a report that her being up there, at a higher level than he was, created there. He would just close in to her, that small smirk in place on his lips, until she would either back down, or freeze, or maybe suppress both those instincts and attack him. But he'd dominate this scene entirely, not only in essence, but also in appearance.

[Mitarashi Anko]

She could feel the skin drawing tighter across her bones as she clenched her fists, stiffening her arms and pushing her shoulders backwards, raising her chin slightly to stare at him without a hint of fear in her posture. How could she have been so surprised to see his climbing those stairs while he was the only person who would have come here? And now he walked in her direction, looking down at her, that familiar smirk on his face. But he would be neither shocked nor bewildered at her presence, his face showed it all. He was hardly even curious about her reason for being there.

But why bother giving him an explanation? After being nothing more than an experiment, a plaything of his, and then thrown away like trash, she owed him nothing. She would not even give thanks for that mark that was supposed to give her power like no other. She never had the malevolence to use the cursed seal, causing him to grow bored with her, disposing of her without a second thought. Though she refused to use it, the question nagged at the back of her mind of ‘what if?’ What if she had decided to embrace it, love it, and use it for her old teacher? How different would her life be now?

What to do? There was no point in attacking him, Orochimaru. She had no reinforcements to come back her up. Not here. And up against him, she would fall easily at his feet. But she would not run. Running would show that she was afraid, and that was one thing she most definitely was not. Well…maybe just a little. Though not enough to make her flee like a dog with her tail between her legs. She would not, could not give him that satisfaction.

Her eyelids fluttered for a split second before closing with gentleness. It was sudden and uncontrollable on her part as she fought to suppress every feeling. She must look void of emotion, must not even appear amused as he did. Oh, but that would not be like her at all; she, Anko, who was full of emotion. So she would show anger.

But more importantly, she fought against the lying thoughts in the back of her mind. He did not want her, did not need her. No matter how hard she had tried to convince herself at first that it was not like that, she knew it to be the truth now. Perhaps there was still that one part of her that continued to believed it to be a lie, but she was unsure. Perhaps that same part wished to return to him, be useful in order for him to take her back. That lie wanted to be needed, be accepted. But it did not know him, and despite how she had shown it his real character, it would not listen and continued to admire the man that had discarded her like a broken toy.

Opening her eyes at last, she stared at him blankly, wondering what, if anything, she should say. No words came to mind. Perhaps he should speak first. But anything he said, whether it be a question or a statement, would put him in charge of the conversation and anything that happened. Then she should speak first. Even so, he would still govern over the event. He already had been since his face had appeared over that top stair. Anything she said would be useless then, but it mattered not. So standing a little straighter, she let her hatred for him sparkle in her eyes as she uttered but one word, “You.” It came out as a whisper, and an unintentional tremor ran through her voice. She could not help but wonder what he was going to do next.

[Orochimaru]

No attack came. And yet, the woman before him wasn't frozen in fear, either, for he knew the signs of such a state and she was displaying none to his observations. Maybe indecision and self-contradiction were there, in those eyes and those small moves as she held her ground and didn't fail to identify him as quickly as he had recognized her. But she still retained control of herself, and more, she was bent on defying him instead of cowering away. Yet, a foolish attack like the one whose delivery had been attempted last time was also obviously out of her intentions right now. He knew her, and she was preparing no such thing.

It made him wonder: why had he spared her then, warned her of her mistake rather than just letting her kill herself in a vain attempt to take him with her? Maybe he actually cared about her fate and, because of that past that stood behind the both of them as shared memories, he would be unable to let the end reach her, just like he wouldn't want himself to be done for. That was a possibility. But his guess inclined more towards the actual truth being that he had only done it because she would have died thinking he truly was drawn into that effect. And that was one thing Orochimaru could never stand. Someone truly believing that they had defeated him, for real, for good. Never. He would always somehow come back and win a war even if he lost some battles.

So he'd much rather have her live and know she had failed against him than die with a belief that he was no more, even if it would be false. And she'd learned from that; now she was surprising him with a reaction that went out of the three he had already considered as options. Orochimaru found that much to his liking, maybe a reminder of why a long time back he had, after all, chosen her of all people to be his apprentice. Maybe she could, even after he'd long lost interest in her, still offer some entertainment, and he was always ready to pause his long-term plans for such things. After all, he did have a lot of time...

He watched her eyelids drift slowly over her eyes, and he wondered what the real reason for that meager illusion of defense was. Only to obscure him from her sight, let her calm the flow of emotion that his prsence there no doubt had started? He approached her anyway, walked up the very last inch of the stairs, as initially intended, until he was finally taller than her once again. As he should be. He lowered his gaze now, just in time to find her own again, hateful now, maybe reproachful, trying to make him feel guilty for... what? For doing only what furthered his own ambitions and not caring about others, not managing to fall into such foolish endeavors as... loving them, maybe? It would be an idiot's gamble to even start believing he felt the smallest regret for that.

But Anko probably knew him better than that. The tone of the one word she spoke towards him told Orochimaru that much, at least. It was somewhat of a hopeless reaction, even as it rebelled against him and tried to make her look less overwhelmed by the situation. Those eyes... the chocolate brown, darker in here than he recalled it from the natural light of outdoors... they glared at him with such hatred and at the same time managed to betray a weariness that knew she could do nothing against him. He advanced a couple of more paces, until he was right by her side, her shoulder bare inches from his upper arm. He glanced around for a moment, to see whether she had come to bring or take anything, but nothing seemed changed from before and nor was she carrying anything of proportions on her persona.

"Who else?" he asked softly, turning his head back towards her a little, so that those words would be uttered in the direction of her ear, closely, every inflexion of his voice perfectly audible through that fact. The midly bored ones, before anything else, those that taunted her with that clear I'm toying with you, and that's all that she should be able to make out for herself.

And still, his question echoed in his own mind, as well. Who else? She could have come with someone, indeed, maybe even with a purpose, to this place. Hoping to unbury some of his old secrets, or to destroy whatever little it was he had left behind... And who, then, indeed, would she choose? Fools from Konoha, who should know better than that he would leave anything for them, at all, when he could have everything? There seemed to be no one. That didn't mean anything, though, at all, as someone could come at any given moment, and soon he found himself more frustrated than he should be with such a simple and far-flung possibility. The need for continuation arose, and he barely left her a moment to even formulate her answer before he continued.

"Were you expecting someone?"

Probably not. He didn't sound affected, not even really interested. But from not sounding it to not actually being it was a long way. Orochimaru couldn't even really say he did care anything for this place's well-being, either. It was merely the fact that he had made it, used it as he had pleased, and it should be his choice whether it should be destroyed or left standing. If anyone had really come here with any intent of a sort towards changing that fact, they'd regret it. A lot. His eyes narrowed slightly with that possibility, but he did not truly let Anko see what he thought as of yet. It would be much more convenient to let her give all the answers, obliviously.

[Mitarashi Anko]

There would be no point in lying to him. He knew her well enough to see the slight change of expression when she was telling a falsehood and trying to hide it. He also knew that this was a place she could never bring herself to come with company. So the want to say, “Yes, I had been expecting someone,” was completely foolish and would be a waste of breath. Thus, when she gave him her answer, it too was a single word, getting straight to the point.

“No,” she murmured louder than before.

Yes, he knew her all too well, probably seeing that she was here to escape from life as she knew it. It made her cringe to think that he could understand her so easily; he who had never cared one bit, could read her like a book. She felt the jagged edges of her bitten down nails as they dug into her palms while her fists squeezed tighter. She was struggling to remain in control of herself. No movement could be performed without thinking first; no word be said lest something should slip. This was the order to maintain without letting him know that she was, in fact, terrified.

Though now, it seemed, there was nothing to be afraid of. For the moment, there was no reason for him to kill her, which made Anko safe. Still, she was powerless before him despite how she appeared strong and unmoved by his presence. The reality of it all was that she was powerless before him, as she had always been, and they both knew it. He had taught her everything, knew her attacks and strategies. If this old teacher suddenly had the inclination to take her out, she would be unable to stop him.

Her body ached, exhausted from the journey she had made. This charade too was wearing her out, but she dared not give in. Was he going to leave? Even if he did, where would that leave her? Could she rest here, pretending that this event hadn’t happened? Of course not. Still, that old dusty crate in the corner was rather appealing while she longed to sit down. But Anko would not rest unless Orochimaru did, and she was certain that he would remain standing. It was all just another part of power play.

There were plenty of questions in need of answers. But knowing her old teacher, Anko expected his answers to be blunt, said in that bored but amused voice that he took on. That or he’d respond with questions of his own, which was less likely. He would have questions of his own, but she could not be sure that asking them was his in his plans. The best course of action, she guessed, was only to wait, answer a question here and there, and hopefully get him to sit down soon.

[Orochimaru]

He could feel her unrest closer than before now, as she herself was closer. In the silence that followed Anko's brief, frustrated answer, Orochimaru only took his time to enjoy it. He was well aware of how her mind worked, of how she felt about this situation. The urge to do something conflicted within her with reason, which told her all action was pointless. He toyed with the thought of interfering with that battle, of driving her past the point where she still listened to that voice of reason, and causing her to act pointlessly for his amusement. A simple piece in his game, once more, playing its role with only the illusion it had control over it, when in fact it did exactly as he expected. He could, indeed, do that… because he knew her.

Knowledge is power. True. And power is nothing, if you don't have the guts to use it.

Most people knew, or thirsted to, as he. But knowing, in essence, was an act that caused one to look down upon those who were more ignorant, unaware. To see them as bigger fools, the more one learned. One's eyes opened with every single lesson the mind learned, and caused things to be seen from perspectives unknown to the rest. Until one found oneself entirely detached, and not even aware of the exact moment it had happened. It wasn't a comfortable position, that one. Satisfactory, thrilling, ecstatic… yes, but also a cause of anger at the new realizations of how blind the rest of the world was. So, faced with that, most individuals chose to stop learning, renounced knowledge, traded it for the comfort of being with others. But not Orochimaru. He did use that power, defied its displeasures by openly embracing that disdain it caused, towards one and all others.

So then, when he turned towards her, when he leaned forward slightly and moved his hand to cup that chin, to raise that head, he did it precisely to show those mocking impressions. For with that, he also raised the eyes that he wanted to look straight into his own, into that piercing gaze of gold which saw before it no more than a toy it had long tired of and cast away. It was now found, but still unwanted. And their meeting was perfect, a match so well made, so flawless, that it was rendered completely useless. Like a mechanism, overworked in its circular motion, until it snapped back to where it had begun. The taste of such sublime irony, that alone was enough to accelerate his heartbeat so very quickly, in only the moment it took to breathe in the texture-deprived scent of pointless tension.

He saw nothing new. Those eyes the golden ones met, they had already been read before; that story, all of it. He didn't need to do it again to know what it said, but still he reviewed everything. And finding it there, as he had known he would, he greeted it with a smirk that had only patiently waited for its turn, one that had been sure to come just as night was sure to follow the day.

"Yes, you are," he said mercilessly, the biting steel in his bored and derisive tone contrasting the soft, gentle touch of his fingers.

That touch, then, reaffirmed itself, following the voice's lead. Its hold grew tighter on her chin, but not enough to hurt, no. He could cause severe damage if he liked, perhaps… a tempting idea, if only for the wonder of how it would feel to do it. But not by far as appealing a prospect as only the exact amount of pressure that would make the denial of his presence entirely impossible. As his words did with her own little negation. That was what he truly wanted to do.

"You're expecting your past to catch up with you…" he taunted naturally, without effort or care, stabbing amusement at the woman before him. "So that you can change it, maybe?"

He was silent afterwards, but she'd have to be deaf to not hear his other, unspoken words, hiding in just his tone, and in his stare: fool; poor, pathetically entertaining fool. That was all, leftovers of a prospect that had never truly turned out to be what he wanted, and that he had abandoned to look for new ones. This failure… had been his student. Another useless thing, most likely, though he had not known until he tried, tested it.

The man pondered. To pass on his knowledge and ideals to a student, or an apprentice. Had he ever had that dream? It was every teacher's wish to do so, for, in accomplishing that, they made sure their existence was continued beyond death. In a way. A way that was, by excellence, entirely insufficient for him, Orochimaru. So then… the answer was no. Part of him would indeed be given, that was true, but only on a whim, from a desire to test the consequences of such doings. When he awoke something within someone, he expected it to do just what it would: grow on its own, if it truly did have the proper conditions. Not to stay there as he had made it. And that was why, though pieces were sometimes shared, most of him, was his and his alone. It could not be given anyway, for he learned as well, always, changed every time a little more. He would live on, and not the version of him twisted through the eyes of another, bent by the will of the next one, until nothing truly did remain.

[Mitarashi Anko]

Her muscle flinched in the lower jaw at his soft unfeeling caress, sending a jolt of discomfort through her blood. A soft tingling numbed her clammy skin as a searing fire engulfed that damned mark that branded the base of her neck. It was a poison-like sensation, creeping through her veins, like memories flow through the mindstream. Haunted feelings and horror filled sounds continued to ring through the dreary, dimly lit room while the dust exhaled and coated their nostrils with a fine lining. And Anko succumbed to the pressure, shuddering at the gentle touch of Orochimaru’s long, chilling fingers.

The first time she had returned to this place, that door had been closed and the lock pressed firmly into the dirt at the edge of the wall. Anko had stood there, hands lightly grazing the paneling that left the place dark and terrifying. One hardly had to listen in order to hear the past raw screams of an experiment in progress. One could see the light marks, scars on the floor from where young hands had scratched in miserable agony. The subtle scraping noise of the lock being put in place still lingering in the air as the girl writhed on the floor, pain eating at her body until she was overcome be uncontrollable seizures. And when the door was finally opened, the light fell across her stiff body, her nails still dug into the concrete by her legs. Eyes wide open, she stared blindly at the ceiling, uncertain as to whether or not she had, in fact died.

The hands flew away from the door, an unconscious cry escaping from the depths of her chest as the seal burned her flesh, glowing red and orange against her fairness. It was a shock to her body each time, her nervous system reacting to the slightest touch, her muscles flexing rapidly. Even her bones throbbed in pain. Her breathing was cackled, hard and strained as she fought against the effects, willing herself to ignore the pulsing that pounded against that area, taking over her shoulder with needle-like stabs of flames. Clutching the area, she collapsed to her knees, grunting softly, and she remained there until the feeling subsided.

And as slowly as the image had appeared, it faded and man standing before her once again came into focus. Like clockwork, her own dark irises shifted to make contact with his glittering yellow spheres; she felt a hint of boredom emitting from him though he gazed upon her in something that was not interest. Twisting her neck, she turned away from him to slip her chin away from his grasp. It was a defensive action, she realized. Protecting herself from something unknown and nothing more.

A few clouds rose from the movement of her feet, the dust forming loose bundles before the miniscule particles drifted away from each other, floating and remaining in the still air. Anko’s hand flew to her left shoulder, the fingers bending sharply to cling to the inflamed area. She gritted her teeth, looking downwards and taking a harsh intake of breath, wishing that she could be anywhere but in that room with him. Her other hand twitched, repeating the same actions over and over, balling into a fist and then opening loosely. In a matter of minutes, it was all over. It always was.

Though the attack had taken some stamina from her, she managed to look at Orochimaru, strength and determination flashing through her eyes. She heard his words perfectly, could see them in his expression. She was worthless to him. A fool. A failure. A small smile graced her lips when she took in those words, ignoring his comment that contradicted her statement, and asking a question of her own, “And what about you? Are you expecting someone?”

[Orochimaru]

The grip of his fingers loosened; he let her go willingly. She was resisting, even… Smiling.

He noticed that as his eyes widened an unnoticeable amount, in apprehension, fixing on her with even more idle curiosity. And the corners of his mouth twitched; it was not a reflex of annoyance, but one of satisfaction, that only widened his smirk from before, causing it to take a slightly squared form, much like that of his jawbone, only more vaguely curved.

How appealing that reaction was to him, how enjoyable. As much as, to one with his desire to be in control, it was also frustrating. That was the material and nature of all challenges, even this small, extremely unimportant one. They stung at him with their defiance, by standing openly out there and daring him to undertake them, and his pride reacted immediately by making him want to win. Yet there was something more than pure ego to that; a proud fool was not enough to rise to the expectations of danger and face it. He had that liking for the thrill of risk that common people lacked. And in a way, knowing that any moment he could lose was far more pleasing a sensation than the triumph itself.

As much as he hated losing. It was a curious state of things. A challenge coming from Anko was foolish. Sad. Pathetic. Laughable. He could think of a thousand other demeaning words of the type, and yet it still drew him in, caught his interest. He knew her so well, and still he always felt there was more, that there would forever be more. He wanted that knowledge that was impossible to obtain, the things that not even she truly could tell about herself.

Why did she not just break before him?

He wondered what this place might look like, seen through her eyes. It must be horrifying, it must surely break every single rule set by her morality and her standards of conduit. She must not be able to understand why someone would do what he did. And most of all, this place hid the breaking point of her existence, the greatest influence that had determined the majority of what her present self was. And, at the same time, it was a place of her past, that time some corner of her mind might long to return to, to live it again, differently. Like he had said just moments before.

Orochimaru guessed that she came here to question herself. He didn't do that with his place of influence, the grave of his parents where he had been told of the white snake, so this was also a curiosity inherent to the woman.

"No, but I realize now that I should have expected you from the start," he answered, with more amusement tingeing his voice now. "Tell me, Anko, do you reach the same conclusions you did then, now?"

It was merely a tease. He knew that she did.

For one thing, she had proven her nature to him when she refused to use the power he had given her. Its type of offer did not appeal to the young girl, in a way that was inborn and set within her mind in rules made of materials that nothing and no one could hope to break. Not even he, with his persistence. That was the reason why he had abandoned her and also why and how he knew with such certainty that she was and would always be useless to him. And he supposed that side of her refusal was also what made him like to stir her so much, to still put her to the trial even now.

He asked himself whether she even realized that at all.

The thought that there were such instances that he could do nothing about, times when despite how much he might try, he would always fail still. He accepted it because it was practical to do so, but a corner of his mind bore these things an undying grudge. He would do something about them in the end, it promised, although the rest of him knew he never would. His tactic, his path to success, had always been to come back at things until he got them right. But there was little doing so with that.

Secondly, she was too proud to reverse her thinking. And not because she would have more of an ego than the average person, although with him as a great influence on some years of her young life and with all the insecurities she needed to cover up on, she likely did. But it was the reaction any human would have. Self-preservation instinct. They were unable to drop something that had made them who they were, so as not to be torn apart completely. It would mean losing all sanity if they did that, and more.

It wasn't just humans. The things in nature were the same. Even the snake that shed its skin to regenerate and grow remained the same, in essence. The butterfly was still a caterpillar, only with wings that masked its origin.

No. He didn't need her answer and that was apparent from the lack of interest that accompanied his mocking tone.

Orochimaru looked to the door he had intended to unlock, observing it briefly, then turned to walk towards it at a slow pace, taking his good time. Standing to face it, enough feet away to still have a full view, he contemplated what he saw. This one was solid steel held in a wall of stone, so despite the tiny cracks around its frame, it had fared well against time, unlike the wooden door at the basement entrance. It was still what he remembered it to be, only with its hue worn away at, eaten by the rust that clung to random portions, and especially to the edges. Like inerasable scars and marks did to people. The irony.

"This door is much like you," he remarked coldly to Anko, as a passing afterthought, before looking at the key in his hand.

[Mitarashi Anko]

To say that she feared Orochimaru would be an understatement and an overstatement all in itself. Anko was terrified by him, but that fear was in an all out battle with her undying hatred as they determined which one would be the dominant emotion for every time she faced him. And face him she would. But standing off to the side was the respect she felt, the long-lived feeling that would never pass and would never enter the battle. It stood hand in hand with horror, always there lurking in the depths of her mind when it would sometimes make an appearance. Mostly when she came here. Emotion no longer mattered in this place filled with nothing more than ghosts and vengeful memories of people from long ago.

Everything had remained preserved in the still air, staying quiet and sleeping until the door opened each time a visitor passed through. Then the memories would awaken and haunt the place with their creaks and moans, a rush of air filling the room only to settle when the person left. And all was quiet again. She could still see the phantom faces crying from the wall, smell the blood pouring forth from the earth where her feet were placed, hear the hollow groans of beings losing hope and letting their body give up.

Smile, she told herself, Laugh. But in the end it was just useless, was it not? No point. No point…

To think that every once in awhile she went back to the times that they shared together. She could hope, as she would always dream, that there had been a relationship between them. That he had seen something worthwhile in her, that she did have the power and abilities, that he might have eventually persuaded her to join him. That the seal he had branded her with was a sign that he wanted her above any other person was a ridiculous idea, and Anko could only remember that it was merely a curse to remind her that she had been used, abused, and left behind. Even if she had been the one to reject the offer, knowing that he had not looked over his shoulder, to see if he had made a mistake, as he abandoned her was something that she would have to live with.

It was laughable that she would sometimes resort to thinking that he might have actually loved her as a teacher is supposed to love his student. Pointless. Just pointless. The mocking tone in her teacher’s voice was enough to shatter any hope that she might have had for the possible affection he might have felt towards her. Every nightmare that caused a sleepless night was evidence of that. Grasping to the bed sheets with trembling fingers, gasping for breath while her body became a slide for sweat droplets to flow freely. How many nights had she suffered because of those unspeakable occurrences? Uncountable, innumerable, and every other word to describe that it had been too many.

But she would always return to thinking that she had meant something to him, clinging to the false feeling as though her life meant nothing without it. All for nothing. She always told herself how foolish and idiotic she was being when the drapes were torn down that hid the reality from her delusions. Each and every time she would hurry to repair them, slide the barrier back across the doorway so as not to step into the world where truth was truth and her hopes meant nothing.

Step away from them, just as she stepped away from Orochimaru at his question. One more movement backwards, narrowing her eyes before turning her head so she would not face him. The man toyed with her. He always did, much as she tried to deny it. If only she could return to that childish innocence she once had, believing in him fully and trusting him with her life. The illusion was enjoyable while it lasted. Look where she was now. But it was not worth the time and energy to reflect on what was past. Though she always did.

“I do,” she said defiantly. She could have lied. She could have said any number of things. Her former teacher was too intelligent to believe such things, would see right through her words and twist them into knives in order to torment her all over again. And she might have lied for the sake of lying, but physical and emotional weariness had governed her voice for those few seconds. Would he see it? Most likely. Would she deny it? Of course. She would rather kill herself than willingly weaken before him. Stubbornness? Rebelling against him? Whatever motivated the actions was unknown even to herself. And for a fleeting moment, she believed she did not even want to know. She was content to live in ignorance.

Like hell.

It was the idea that he could use her vulnerability to his advantage, even though she suspected well enough that he would not use her because there was no merit for him. Useless, no value, just a plaything now.

Curiosity got the better of her when Orochimaru stood before the door. He said it was like her. That there was something similar to her within that room might have pulled at her interest, perhaps even her heart, even if she did not want to think of it. Threads directed her gaze to that very door which he stood before, strings tugged at her body. So she approached, slowly stretching her hand to place it on the chilled surface. Slowly, to steady the trembling of her fingers by force. She had the urge to rest her forehead weakly against it, but she resisted and curled her fingers down the metal, balling her hand into a fist before she turned away. Her breath came short, causing a few dust particles to flit away, and she was reminded of how when she was younger she used to breathe on the window during the cold winter days, drawing in the residue that her warm breath left behind.

She understood what he said. And yet, she did not understand it at all.