I do not own Naruto, nor did I write this story for commercial purposes. This statement applies to all other chapters of this FanFiction.
He died, and I was the one who killed him.
Not only was I the cause of his death, but was the one who killed him with my bare hands.
And the worst part was, I had every good reason NOT to take his life.
He was the one who was kind enough to adopt me when I was orphaned.
He taught me everything I knew, even the technique that meant his death.
He was the one who loved and cared for me, when no one else bothered to acknowledge a mere orphan.
He was who one who gave me my first kiss.
And he must have loved me until the last wisp of breath escaped from his lips.
"I love you, Anko, and I would do anything for you."
Those words struck me as a mere… pebble thrown at an ogre- ineffective, futile, because I was foolish and never bothered to truly comprehend what his words meant.
And he realized that, of course, because he had the uncanny ability to read me like a comic book- an ability that angered me to no end, as there was no point in hiding my feelings and desires from him like I did around everyone else. Naturally, he knew my way of thinking, and thought it was unrealistic, downright childish, and often sneered at my naïvety.
Even though I tried to censor my flaws from others, I failed gravely from him.
Oh yes, foolish I was, but that did not stop him from loving me.
And yet after everything he did, I failed to take note of his love when I pierced his heart, the very heart that beat solely for me.
But, death shouldn't have been the fate of something that I failed to comprehend.
And it was too late then for me to realize that fact…
My thoughts were soon drowned by happy screams and suffocating embraces from the fellow ninjas.
"You killed him!"
Yes I did, but I believed the only reason he got killed was because it was I wanted him slain. He wouldn't have given in if someone else tried to attack.
I fought off the pats and embraces vigorously, and ran away as quickly as my injured legs could manage, leaving questioned murmurs behind me. The stabbing pain on my thigh where a kunai penetrated was aching more than ever, but that could not even be close to compare with the fresh wound in my heart.
His funeral was today.
If you could call it a funeral that is.
I was the only one attending, with the exception of the Hokage to give the least possible amount of respect from the village. I tried to bottle my feelings inside, as they carried the large coffin to its final resting place.
I kindly requested them to bury Orochimaru in the Forest of Death, where we shared a rather… interesting experience.
I knelt down in front of his grave, trying to fight off the emotions that were swimming in my head and drowning all that was sane in me.
Oh how I wanted to run up to him, and shriek, and cry, and scream out his name. But I knew that sort of childish behaviour would have landed his disapproving chuckles if he were still alive. He would have wanted me to feel satisfied for what he had done for me, and I wanted to do whatever I knew would have pleased him.
Instead, I placed my hands on the newly cut tombstone; the coldness of the marble reminded me of his cheeks that would wrinkle cutely whenever he smiled. How I missed those smiles that would have only been directed towards me.
My fingertips felt a slight sting as they traced over the fresh razor edges that framed Orochimaru's name, dates, and other information that would be useless to the village of Konoha from now on. Everyone else preferred celebrating his death over kneeling in front of his grave to read them.
"Orochimaru…" it reads, as my eyes scan the first row, underneath the intricately carved image of a snake, bearing its fangs threateningly at me.
I will never receive the same response again when I say his name. He would have appeared behind me sneakily, coil his arms around my waist, and said "What?" in such a honeyed tone, that I could feel my insides melt.
He had always loved me to such an extreme amount that it could be described with the words "covet", or "obsession", by the ignorant observer.
But it wasn't.
Because it wasn't lustful, and it never died out, like lust always would.
I thought he was mad when he first told me about his feelings.
First of all, I was raised to recognize him as Dad, and thought I was too young to think about love. Secondly, he had always possessed a cold and distant ambiance about him, and I wasn't thoroughly convinced that he would have been able to love me. And lastly, He was more than twice my age, and everyone in the whole village probably was going to think lowly of me if they were to ever discover the truth. I just couldn't stand being shunned by society again.
It wasn't going to work out; there were just too many obstacles in our way.
I felt dirty, violated, and confused, after he held my hands, bent over, and kissed me gently.
I was only fourteen, and it felt like I'd just done incest, even though, biologically, it wasn't.
The way those golden eyes stared at me so differently at that moment has plagued me until this day.
And after that encounter, Orochimaru began showing signs of wanting me more and more as time went on. But I refused to give him a chance.
After weeks, months had passed of "Dad" trying to touch me every way he could, of him trying to relate all the conversations back to the same subject, he started to grow on me little by little, as much as I didn't want to accept. I started to think about him each day, and his image crawled into bed with me at night, infesting my mind like a disease.
His sleek black hair, his golden eyes, his thin lips, his cold hands…
I knew I was going mad, just like he was.
So one night, I gave in-
He gave me a devilish smirk. His eyes glowed at me lustily, sending goosebumps down to the lowest segments of my spine, areas on which he would soon run his icicle fingers. I knew what I was going to be in for.
So I just laid there, with my eyes locked shut, as he had it his way. I was scared of what he was going to do, because I'd never been this close with a man before. His dark chuckles rang in my ear whenever I flinched at his marble-cold hands touching my skin. He probably knew that I didn't like it, but pressed on. He wiped away the tears that were flooding my eyes, and squeezed my neck threateningly to cease my painful whining. Insensitive to my feelings, he went even harder. It hurt so bad, worse than what I imagined.
"Oh shut up," he snapped at me, " I know you are no good, there's no point in making it so obvious." He slashed a free cold hand across my hot cheek- a deadly warning to stop.
"I love you, Anko," I heard him say delicately, moments later. It was the first time that night I heard him soften his tone, as I felt a moist tongue trace the flesh on the back of my neck that had been stinging for a while, due to what felt like a bite. And just like that, I fell in love for the first time.
But Orochimaru left me the next morning, along with the chance for our love to bloom. All I had in my hands was a small note. Not him, but a piece of paper. It was supposed to explain the reason why he left, but its fate was left for my impulsiveness before I read one word.
I decided that he never loved me, and only used me to get what he wanted.
Which means, all the things he had ever said to me must have been fake.
When that thought dawned upon me, my insides started to brew with hatred.
I regretted that I ever thought someone like him would have feelings for me…
I felt pathetic to have allowed him haunt my mind all this time.
But I was very hot-headed back then, and gave rational thought a chance before jumping to conclusions.
However, his feelings for me were true, genuine. (As I am trying to convince myself to believe now, upon thinking back to this.) And he had his reasons for leaving me, if only I read that note.
Unfortunately, I began to hate him for leaving me alone. But little did I know, he was going to come back for me.
And when he did, I was going to fall in love once more.
By the way, this story is going to darken, and become more and more complex and screwed-up from as chapters progress. Do pardon the OOC-ness at first, especially Orochimaru's. Or, you can always not read on... Regards.