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[personal profile] ishime
Disclaimer:
Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto, not to me.
Rating: R, for gore and an unnamed teenager's death.
Notes:
I wrote this for a request on the sentence in a story meme this October at [info]naruto_meme : "This is no different from two months ago, and I am disappointed." The original title was "Charmer Snake", but I think this one makes more sense.
It works as a prequel for Silly Little Dreams (a Karin-centric fic I wrote for the anything goes meme at [livejournal.com profile] naruto_meme in May) or, I hope, as a stand-alone.


You stand in front of the table, clinging to your scalpel with desperate strength. Some part of you is terrified that if you loosen your grip, even for a second, it's gonna slip away and start its gruesome job on its own.

It doesn't make sense for you to be so scared. You've been surrounded by violence and death all your life, no matter where you go. You could sense always it from three streets away, in those big white buildings you purposefully passed by every morning on your way to meet your team. You've been training to do these things for years now, death doesn't scare you anymore, your teacher made sure of it. You've seen him kill people under your eyes. You're a ninja, and ninjas don't get scared.
(You cling to the words, too, repeating them over and over in your head, like some twisted mantra.)
In another life (a thousand years ago, or was it really just a handful of months?) the boy was your friend, protecting you from enemies while you stood ready to heal him and warn him from any threat.
Then you were both dragged to this place and thrown into a dark cell; getting your portion of food became a struggle, and the boy became your mortal enemy. Who could've protected you from him, now that he was the one you had to fight over a plate of gruel?
And it doesn't make sense, this scalpel in your hands and the boy struggling on the operating table and the terror slowly crawling up your spine - no sense at all. But then, nightmares rarely do.

You sense something moving behind you and before you can startle, something's leaning over your shoulder and there's a tongue slowly circling your neck.
The boy stills on the table. Your hands begin to shake; the scalpel falls and jingles on the tiled floor.

The tongue slides away at the noise, back into the mouth it belongs to, with a soft, wet, nauseating sound. A white hand grabs your wrist and tightens until you can't move an inch. The choking noise you let out is covered by a hiss, and you stop breathing for fear another noise would bring your demise.
The voice against your ear is barely louder than a whisper, but you can feel it in every bone and every sinew and every muscle of your body.
"This is no different from two months ago, and I am... disappointed."

The hand on your wrist pulls to make you face your jailer and his cold, snake eyes. Somehow, seeing them on a pretty girl face is even worse. You feel like a mouse - trapped, hypnotized by the thousand painful deaths these eyes seem to promise you.
The face gets closer, and suddenly the eyes don't seem so threatening anymore - at least not threatening to you.
"I had such great expectations for you. Why are you hesitating? Didn't you promise me that you'd do anything if I saved you from him?"
It takes you a few seconds to realize that he's actually waiting for your answer; you nod, because you really can't trust your voice at the moment.
"Wasn't he starving you? Didn't he betray you as soon as you stopped being useful to him?"
You nod again. He lets go of your wrist to put his hand on your cheek instead. It's cool and surprisingly soft.
"Don't worry. I'll help you this time."
Behind you, the boy shrieks.

You turn around on your own this time, staggering a little, and you can't help but gasp at the sight awaiting you. The table's now swarming with snakes.
You stand there as they bite the boy again and again, until the poison makes him bleed through every inch of his skin. None of the boy's cries reach you. You stare in awe as what was a breathing human a minute ago turns into a rotting corpse with terrifying speed.
You watch your teammate die, the same horrible death as your sensei the first time they took you to this cold hospital room - but somehow, it feels different.

And when the last snake finally lets go of the corpse, Orochimaru's hands slides down a little, his fingers brushing against your throat.
"Luckily for you, Karin, you have another chance left to prove yourself."
The hand turns into a snake that circles your neck and hangs there, dangerous and watchful yet reassuring, a reminder of your new status as Orochimaru's favorite.

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