(no subject)
Characters: Orochimaru, Kimimaro
Setting: Kimimaro's room in Orochimaru's fortress, before their group leaves on the mission for Konoha.
Warnings: None
Orochimaru walked down the dimly lit corridors illuminated by the flickering light of torches scattered across the stone walls towards Kimimaro's quarters. He did not go here often, any longer; as his subordinates condition had worsened, he had opted to remain distant and aloof. It was hard to face all that wasted potential, all those plans having been shattered so easily by the course of fate. Kimimaro would have been the perfect future vessel to maintain Orochimaru - not only would his unwavering loyalty endure even after his soul had been possessed, but his body was perfect... Youthful, strong; the inheritance of his blood was unique and powerful. He had survived the ordeal of bearing the cursed seal, and flourished. It was tragic.
Like his beloved flowers, Kimimaro had begun to wither and die after being plucked.
The serpentine man halted before the door, listening to the quiet sounds of Kabuto's devices monitoring the vitals of his apprentice, before quietly knocking three times.
Kimimaro was pulled out of his medicine-induced daze by the sound at the door. It was a welcome intrusion; over the past hour he had been unable to think of anything but the upcoming mission in Konoha, and how Kabuto would probably decide that he wasn't well enough to accompany them. Just as they'd been in the midst of planning, his symptoms had taken a turn for the worse, and Kabuto had put him on strict bed rest. He had wanted so badly to go on this mission, to help Orochimaru accomplish his goals... and to see Konoha. When he was a child, he had once asked Orochimaru about the country he was from... the very same day that he had left the Water Country behind forever. Orochimaru had told him about Konoha... in particular, that it was warm and beautiful, where the grass and flowers grew for nearly the whole year, and where the snow and mist that Kimimaro had thought of as commonplace were rarely seen. His chance to travel to this strange country that he'd dreamed about when he was younger had been snatched away from him just as quickly as it had been offered. Instead of going on a mission, he would remain tethered to his bed by the multitude of tubes, each delivering a constant supply of mysterious fluid.
He lifted his head from the pillow, trying to look towards the door. "Come in."
The door slowly creaked ajar. Orochimaru observed Kimimaro's prone state upon the bed with an impassive gaze; so, it was as Kabuto had said. His apprentice's decline was rapid and degenerative; soon, he would not be able to move at all. The forlorn sigh that left his lips was beyond his ability to hold within as he brought himself to the light-haired youth's bedside, glancing down at his sickly form. "How are you feeling, Kimimaro?" He asked, golden-flecked eyes wavering over the tubes, the wires and prongs, needles and lines drawn from and into his body. His fingers lightly stroked his pupil's brow, brushing strands of white-silver hair from his face. "Kabuto tells me you are not well."
"Better than yesterday," came the hoarse response. This was a lie; he was feeling exactly the same as yesterday, but he wasn't going to tell Orochimaru that. And in some small dark corner of his mind, Kimimaro believed that if he could convince himself that it was true, then it would become so... that he could somehow trick his body into becoming healthy again.
He lifted himself up into a sitting position, wanting to look his master in the eye when speaking to him. "Have you gotten any word of how Tayuya and Kin are faring?" Kimimaro hoped, for the missions sake, that they were doing well... but if they did poorly he would get no small amount of enjoyment out of reprimanding them during training.
This was, of course, assuming that he would return to training anytime soon. At this point, Kimimaro couldn't help but think that to make such an assumption would be overly optimistic.
"Nothing of consequence to the mission," he replied, satisfied that his apprentice was able to rise at the least. "Their progress is lacking, though I did consider that when giving them their orders. Tayuya and Kin are very rarely able to go about anything without some sort of conflict." Which, of course, was true enough. More often than not, they would break to argue or spat at least twice during the course of a simple mission. Golden-slitted eyes folded behind him at the small of his back, and he breathed a quiet exhale.
"I trust Kabuto-kun has been taking good care of you," he said; this was half a question, and half a statement. Though he knew that there was little love lost between his on-hand healer and right-hand man and his ex-vessel, that they would do their duties regardless.
"Of course... at this rate I'll be well enough before we leave," he replied, his lips curving up into a half-smile. He was certainly going to rest and try to improve his condition as much as he could before they departed. But as long as he was well enough to not be a burden on the rest of the group, he would accompany them to Konoha. He would do his part for the mission, illness or no. "How much longer, do you think? Before we go after them, I mean," he asked.
"We're only waiting on our 'spies' to report back the preliminary information," he replied, fondly laying a hand atop the light-haired youth's head. "Once they've infiltrated the rebellion, we'll have the basics we need to make the next move. You will be at my side." Kimimaro was the most loyal of his subordinates, the most trusted out of all of them; though Kabuto would do his bidding, it was Kimimaro he could rely on to go the extra mile regardless the cost. A self-assured gleam entered those inhuman golden oculars set upon his sickly pupil. "We'll make sure to wait until you're well enough to travel. There's no rush. We've come this far..."
Kimimaro closed his eyes and sighed. The weight of Orochimaru's cool hand was... soothing? Comforting? Even now Kimimaro was unaccustomed to such feelings, and he'd never quite figured out how to classify them when they occurred. "Of course... thank you." he replied, his voice low.
"Was there anything else you wanted, sir?"
Orochimaru gave a slight chuckle at his subordinates' words. "Sir, sir, you make me feel so old." He withdrew his hand, albeit reluctantly; he could tell his pupil enjoyed the contact. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his back on Kimimaro, glancing at the devices keeping track of his vitals. "I thought it would be prudent if we went over what I will need of you once we reach Konoha. If the stress is too much, I need to know as soon as possible; I've given consideration to your condition, and can make due in the off chance you're unable to fulfill your role. However..." Serpentine eyes slid back towards the light-haired youth upon the bed. "If we succeed, we may do more than simply take Konoha into our grasps. If what I think is true, there may be a person who is capable of undoing the damage to your body, to permanently curing your affliction..."
Kimimaro's eyes widened. A permanent cure...? He'd been given so many false hopes by the other doctors, so many dead ends and ineffective treatments, and they could never agree on whether his symptoms were caused by a virus, or a cancer, or something else entirely. His instincts told him that he shouldn't get his hopes up... but this wasn't some doctor telling him this, it was Orochimaru. If Orochimaru said it was possible, then it was... the sorcerer would not lie to him. "That would be... wonderful, Lord Orochimaru."
He was not saying this from a mere self-centered desire to remember how it felt to be something other than sickly and weak again. If this sickness left him, he would once again be a possible new body for Orochimaru. His master's goal was to be immortal, and to learn everything there was to learn about magic and sorcery. He was not afraid of dying... Orochimaru had told him that once the ritual was completed, and he had taken full possession of his new body, Kimimaro would remain as a part of his subconscious mind. In a way, he would also be immortal, forever a part of his master... and this thought pleased him.
"Now... what of the mission? What will I being doing once we reach Konoha?"
"Posing as my son," he mused, a humored smirk taking up his lips as he glanced at the light-haired youth over his shoulder. "I will be in disguise as a wealthy noble of the Mist. You will be with me at all times, both as my son, and underlying that, my bodyguard." If push came to shove, he could trust no other as he could Kimimaro in a battle; even with his condition, if Orochimaru's life were on the line, he would destroy any and all threats without fail. Orochimaru was certain of this. "We will be 'sympathetic' to the rebellion's cause and gain their trust. After that..." Things got complicated, and he rather not get ahead of himself. Not until he had more information.
He turned to face his subordinate once more, those serpentine eyes narrowing slightly and the smirk fading, his countenance unusually solemn. "I have no wishes to see harm befall you should you push yourself too hard. The potential of seeing your health bettered is one of my main goals. Thus, you must be sure to take excellent care of yourself, Kimimaro-kun..." He took a slow step forward to the boy's bedside, intense golden oculars set upon his, all-encompassing, entrancing, hypnotic. A pale hand strayed from his side to cup one smooth cheek within the snake sorcerer's palm. "You are precious to me, after all..."
The sorcerer's words brought a small smile to Kimimaro's face, and the pessimism that had been hanging over him for the past few days seemed to evaporate. "I won't disappoint you, sir," came the quiet reply.
"I know you won't," he said, that smile slowly crawling over his lips again. Orochimaru could only hope that this were true; if his suspicions were wrong, than there would be nothing he could do to ease his subordinates' burden; a new vessel would be necessary, and Kimimaro would eventually meet his painful end, all of his strength and ability wasted. The snake-like man had no desire to see this fate for the light-haired youth... He would do all he could in his power to prevent it.
"Kimimaro," he said. "You will need to keep up an illusion technique similar to mine, as we will need to appear as kin." Even if Kimimaro were not in the best of health, it would only gain them sympathy in the eyes of the rebellion. The guise of a nobleman seeking a better world for his sickly child to live in was a convincing and powerful tool. "If it is too much for you, then I will veil us both, but you must tell me before we begin our journey."
The boy's smile deepened... the illusion that Orochimaru referred to was simple enough, even in his weakened state. He ran one hand through his hair, and in the wake of his fingers the once-white strands of hair became as black as Orochimarus' own. "Something like this?" he asked wryly.
The serpentine man, as usual, was satisfied with his pupil. He gave a small inclination of his head in agreement. Yet, with each recognition of Kimimaro's skill came a pang of disappointment at how he had been rendered useless, about how all that talent and untouched potential lay dormant and unable to be molded as the boy was now. He suffered, and he desired so strongly to be of value... and Orochimaru had no qualms in using that loyalty and strength. If only...
Perhaps there was hope, now. Perhaps.
"Very good," he murmured in praise. "We will take up similar appearances. Of course, we will also work out the details of our identities before making any moves to assure perfection. There can be no flaws..."
"And there shall be none," Kimimaro replied, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "You... you are also precious to me, my Lord." He bowed his head, the newly-dark strands of hair falling over his face in a show of humility. "I will not fail you."
A smile of satisfaction found his pale lips. There was no need to further question Kimimaro's capability; if the boy said he would do something, than he would do it, so long as the request left Orochimaru's mouth. As he said, he wouldn't fail him. The serpentine man nodded in understanding, continuing to stroke through his pupil's darkened hair woven of illusion. "We will see that this plague is dispelled from your body," he said soothingly. "Then together, we will achieve our dreams, as things were meant to be."
Kimimaro nodded, his lips tugging upward into a tired smile... the pain medicine he'd been given half an hour ago was finally starting to take effect, and it was making him sleepy. "Yes..." The blackness faded from his hair as he eased himself back onto his pillow, and his eyelids grew heavy. "Mmm... thank you, Lord Orochimaru." He wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking the older man for... for visiting him, for trusting his abilities, for the possibility of a cure... perhaps simply for being there. Perhaps for all of it.
His body cradled by the pillows and feather mattress and half covered by blankets, Kimimaro drifted off to sleep.
Setting: Kimimaro's room in Orochimaru's fortress, before their group leaves on the mission for Konoha.
Warnings: None
Orochimaru walked down the dimly lit corridors illuminated by the flickering light of torches scattered across the stone walls towards Kimimaro's quarters. He did not go here often, any longer; as his subordinates condition had worsened, he had opted to remain distant and aloof. It was hard to face all that wasted potential, all those plans having been shattered so easily by the course of fate. Kimimaro would have been the perfect future vessel to maintain Orochimaru - not only would his unwavering loyalty endure even after his soul had been possessed, but his body was perfect... Youthful, strong; the inheritance of his blood was unique and powerful. He had survived the ordeal of bearing the cursed seal, and flourished. It was tragic.
Like his beloved flowers, Kimimaro had begun to wither and die after being plucked.
The serpentine man halted before the door, listening to the quiet sounds of Kabuto's devices monitoring the vitals of his apprentice, before quietly knocking three times.
Kimimaro was pulled out of his medicine-induced daze by the sound at the door. It was a welcome intrusion; over the past hour he had been unable to think of anything but the upcoming mission in Konoha, and how Kabuto would probably decide that he wasn't well enough to accompany them. Just as they'd been in the midst of planning, his symptoms had taken a turn for the worse, and Kabuto had put him on strict bed rest. He had wanted so badly to go on this mission, to help Orochimaru accomplish his goals... and to see Konoha. When he was a child, he had once asked Orochimaru about the country he was from... the very same day that he had left the Water Country behind forever. Orochimaru had told him about Konoha... in particular, that it was warm and beautiful, where the grass and flowers grew for nearly the whole year, and where the snow and mist that Kimimaro had thought of as commonplace were rarely seen. His chance to travel to this strange country that he'd dreamed about when he was younger had been snatched away from him just as quickly as it had been offered. Instead of going on a mission, he would remain tethered to his bed by the multitude of tubes, each delivering a constant supply of mysterious fluid.
He lifted his head from the pillow, trying to look towards the door. "Come in."
The door slowly creaked ajar. Orochimaru observed Kimimaro's prone state upon the bed with an impassive gaze; so, it was as Kabuto had said. His apprentice's decline was rapid and degenerative; soon, he would not be able to move at all. The forlorn sigh that left his lips was beyond his ability to hold within as he brought himself to the light-haired youth's bedside, glancing down at his sickly form. "How are you feeling, Kimimaro?" He asked, golden-flecked eyes wavering over the tubes, the wires and prongs, needles and lines drawn from and into his body. His fingers lightly stroked his pupil's brow, brushing strands of white-silver hair from his face. "Kabuto tells me you are not well."
"Better than yesterday," came the hoarse response. This was a lie; he was feeling exactly the same as yesterday, but he wasn't going to tell Orochimaru that. And in some small dark corner of his mind, Kimimaro believed that if he could convince himself that it was true, then it would become so... that he could somehow trick his body into becoming healthy again.
He lifted himself up into a sitting position, wanting to look his master in the eye when speaking to him. "Have you gotten any word of how Tayuya and Kin are faring?" Kimimaro hoped, for the missions sake, that they were doing well... but if they did poorly he would get no small amount of enjoyment out of reprimanding them during training.
This was, of course, assuming that he would return to training anytime soon. At this point, Kimimaro couldn't help but think that to make such an assumption would be overly optimistic.
"Nothing of consequence to the mission," he replied, satisfied that his apprentice was able to rise at the least. "Their progress is lacking, though I did consider that when giving them their orders. Tayuya and Kin are very rarely able to go about anything without some sort of conflict." Which, of course, was true enough. More often than not, they would break to argue or spat at least twice during the course of a simple mission. Golden-slitted eyes folded behind him at the small of his back, and he breathed a quiet exhale.
"I trust Kabuto-kun has been taking good care of you," he said; this was half a question, and half a statement. Though he knew that there was little love lost between his on-hand healer and right-hand man and his ex-vessel, that they would do their duties regardless.
"Of course... at this rate I'll be well enough before we leave," he replied, his lips curving up into a half-smile. He was certainly going to rest and try to improve his condition as much as he could before they departed. But as long as he was well enough to not be a burden on the rest of the group, he would accompany them to Konoha. He would do his part for the mission, illness or no. "How much longer, do you think? Before we go after them, I mean," he asked.
"We're only waiting on our 'spies' to report back the preliminary information," he replied, fondly laying a hand atop the light-haired youth's head. "Once they've infiltrated the rebellion, we'll have the basics we need to make the next move. You will be at my side." Kimimaro was the most loyal of his subordinates, the most trusted out of all of them; though Kabuto would do his bidding, it was Kimimaro he could rely on to go the extra mile regardless the cost. A self-assured gleam entered those inhuman golden oculars set upon his sickly pupil. "We'll make sure to wait until you're well enough to travel. There's no rush. We've come this far..."
Kimimaro closed his eyes and sighed. The weight of Orochimaru's cool hand was... soothing? Comforting? Even now Kimimaro was unaccustomed to such feelings, and he'd never quite figured out how to classify them when they occurred. "Of course... thank you." he replied, his voice low.
"Was there anything else you wanted, sir?"
Orochimaru gave a slight chuckle at his subordinates' words. "Sir, sir, you make me feel so old." He withdrew his hand, albeit reluctantly; he could tell his pupil enjoyed the contact. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his back on Kimimaro, glancing at the devices keeping track of his vitals. "I thought it would be prudent if we went over what I will need of you once we reach Konoha. If the stress is too much, I need to know as soon as possible; I've given consideration to your condition, and can make due in the off chance you're unable to fulfill your role. However..." Serpentine eyes slid back towards the light-haired youth upon the bed. "If we succeed, we may do more than simply take Konoha into our grasps. If what I think is true, there may be a person who is capable of undoing the damage to your body, to permanently curing your affliction..."
Kimimaro's eyes widened. A permanent cure...? He'd been given so many false hopes by the other doctors, so many dead ends and ineffective treatments, and they could never agree on whether his symptoms were caused by a virus, or a cancer, or something else entirely. His instincts told him that he shouldn't get his hopes up... but this wasn't some doctor telling him this, it was Orochimaru. If Orochimaru said it was possible, then it was... the sorcerer would not lie to him. "That would be... wonderful, Lord Orochimaru."
He was not saying this from a mere self-centered desire to remember how it felt to be something other than sickly and weak again. If this sickness left him, he would once again be a possible new body for Orochimaru. His master's goal was to be immortal, and to learn everything there was to learn about magic and sorcery. He was not afraid of dying... Orochimaru had told him that once the ritual was completed, and he had taken full possession of his new body, Kimimaro would remain as a part of his subconscious mind. In a way, he would also be immortal, forever a part of his master... and this thought pleased him.
"Now... what of the mission? What will I being doing once we reach Konoha?"
"Posing as my son," he mused, a humored smirk taking up his lips as he glanced at the light-haired youth over his shoulder. "I will be in disguise as a wealthy noble of the Mist. You will be with me at all times, both as my son, and underlying that, my bodyguard." If push came to shove, he could trust no other as he could Kimimaro in a battle; even with his condition, if Orochimaru's life were on the line, he would destroy any and all threats without fail. Orochimaru was certain of this. "We will be 'sympathetic' to the rebellion's cause and gain their trust. After that..." Things got complicated, and he rather not get ahead of himself. Not until he had more information.
He turned to face his subordinate once more, those serpentine eyes narrowing slightly and the smirk fading, his countenance unusually solemn. "I have no wishes to see harm befall you should you push yourself too hard. The potential of seeing your health bettered is one of my main goals. Thus, you must be sure to take excellent care of yourself, Kimimaro-kun..." He took a slow step forward to the boy's bedside, intense golden oculars set upon his, all-encompassing, entrancing, hypnotic. A pale hand strayed from his side to cup one smooth cheek within the snake sorcerer's palm. "You are precious to me, after all..."
The sorcerer's words brought a small smile to Kimimaro's face, and the pessimism that had been hanging over him for the past few days seemed to evaporate. "I won't disappoint you, sir," came the quiet reply.
"I know you won't," he said, that smile slowly crawling over his lips again. Orochimaru could only hope that this were true; if his suspicions were wrong, than there would be nothing he could do to ease his subordinates' burden; a new vessel would be necessary, and Kimimaro would eventually meet his painful end, all of his strength and ability wasted. The snake-like man had no desire to see this fate for the light-haired youth... He would do all he could in his power to prevent it.
"Kimimaro," he said. "You will need to keep up an illusion technique similar to mine, as we will need to appear as kin." Even if Kimimaro were not in the best of health, it would only gain them sympathy in the eyes of the rebellion. The guise of a nobleman seeking a better world for his sickly child to live in was a convincing and powerful tool. "If it is too much for you, then I will veil us both, but you must tell me before we begin our journey."
The boy's smile deepened... the illusion that Orochimaru referred to was simple enough, even in his weakened state. He ran one hand through his hair, and in the wake of his fingers the once-white strands of hair became as black as Orochimarus' own. "Something like this?" he asked wryly.
The serpentine man, as usual, was satisfied with his pupil. He gave a small inclination of his head in agreement. Yet, with each recognition of Kimimaro's skill came a pang of disappointment at how he had been rendered useless, about how all that talent and untouched potential lay dormant and unable to be molded as the boy was now. He suffered, and he desired so strongly to be of value... and Orochimaru had no qualms in using that loyalty and strength. If only...
Perhaps there was hope, now. Perhaps.
"Very good," he murmured in praise. "We will take up similar appearances. Of course, we will also work out the details of our identities before making any moves to assure perfection. There can be no flaws..."
"And there shall be none," Kimimaro replied, his voice filled with quiet confidence. "You... you are also precious to me, my Lord." He bowed his head, the newly-dark strands of hair falling over his face in a show of humility. "I will not fail you."
A smile of satisfaction found his pale lips. There was no need to further question Kimimaro's capability; if the boy said he would do something, than he would do it, so long as the request left Orochimaru's mouth. As he said, he wouldn't fail him. The serpentine man nodded in understanding, continuing to stroke through his pupil's darkened hair woven of illusion. "We will see that this plague is dispelled from your body," he said soothingly. "Then together, we will achieve our dreams, as things were meant to be."
Kimimaro nodded, his lips tugging upward into a tired smile... the pain medicine he'd been given half an hour ago was finally starting to take effect, and it was making him sleepy. "Yes..." The blackness faded from his hair as he eased himself back onto his pillow, and his eyelids grew heavy. "Mmm... thank you, Lord Orochimaru." He wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking the older man for... for visiting him, for trusting his abilities, for the possibility of a cure... perhaps simply for being there. Perhaps for all of it.
His body cradled by the pillows and feather mattress and half covered by blankets, Kimimaro drifted off to sleep.