He zipped up his uniform and took hold of his weapon.
This time he couldn't gloat as he left her, saying he'd finally gotten what he had always wanted.
That worthless bitch did something that was unforgivable, she made him love her.
And she screwed him over time and time again
He should kill her for having provoked such disgusting feelings in his heart, whispered the fox, and he snorted in contempt, both for himself, and the nine tailed demon that resided within him.
If he had ever had one, he might have listened, instead of following her around like a lovesick puppy.
He might have found true love, instead of this hollow facade that had shattered this evening.
Standing before the gates, a travel bag strapped to his back, his eyes tightened in to a vicious glare, red slits of pure Kitsune fury bearing down upon him.
He should turn around right now and strangled her, watch her eyes turned white and smile viciously as he killed her, rid himself of this foul emotion he had come to recognize as attachment.
Even now, she would likley be 'tattling' on him to 'grandma' Tsunade, playing the 'poor me' act, and using whatever was in her reach, to get what she wanted.
Briefly, he looked down at his hands, which only moments before, had seized her lying traitorous, cheating neck in a rare burst of fury.
She deserved it, whispered the fox. She was your wife, and you caught her fucking with that teme of an Uchiha, calling out HIS name in orgasm, instead of yours. How long do you think she's been going about this?
Looking down upon the ring on his finger, he yelled a loud explicitive, and ripping it off, stomped it under his foot, until the diamond and band were nothing more than twisted metal.
Why couldn't he do it?
He had done it before, done it to enemies, who had come even close to making him feel the slightest bit of attachment.
Yet, every time he though about killing her, his hands didn't respond.
He couldn't do it, not when he saw her beautiful face illuminated by the light that always seemed to shine about her.
Seemed, was the key word here.
Now he knew.
He had been used like a handkerchief, then thrown away, once his purpose was obtained.
He walked away now, and when the guards asked him where he was going-
He slew them, lopping off their heads in an almost casual manner, then discarding his clothing, slipped into the Anbu outfit of the tallest guard, the fabric fitting his six foot form.
Then, as their life blood melted into the earth, he sprang high over the gates, and landing with a light tap on the other side, heard a great comotion, cries and shoutsof horror already ringing through the village, as news of his actions finally got out.
His walk burning into a run, he sped away, away away, from his former home, which had made him what he swore he would never become.
Not in body, but in soul.
He swore up and down that he would never touch her again, as he his run took him into the woods.
Never again would he drink her nectar or have her walls clenched around him as she climaxed.
He didn't need to feel, it would make him soft, weak.
There was no room for love in the heart of a monster such as him.
He would be trod upon no more.
He would do whatever, whomever, and go wherever he pleased.
Surely, his friends would pursue him, seek him out, and try to bring him back.
He did not care.
If he could not evade them, he would strike them down the moment they raised a hand against his well being.
All of them.
His hand gripped the crimson hilt of his blade, and silent tears, not of remorse, but of anger, leaked down his face, the last tears for what would be a very long time, as his chest rose in steady healthy breaths from the run.
There was nothing left for him...
Nothing left but his hate.