The moment she realized her life was in danger she ran. It was cowardly, but Anomie wasn't one to fight and she wasn't one to die. But cowardice didn't matter when the world's view is through the kaleidoscope of a courtesan.
Kakashi/OC
Story feature...
"A rapid bolt will rend the clouds apart, and every single White be seared by wounds. I tell you this. I want it all to hurt."
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ____________ –•–
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SHE HAD A DREAM THAT NIGHT. She dreamed of Rin's smiling face and loving embrace, worried eyes, and trembling lips as they quivered out a hollow goodbye.
It was only a nightmare when she awoke. It felt like when she closed her eyes, she was given a glimpse heaven only open her eyes and descend into hell.
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Months passed like hollow points prickling in Anomie's stomach as she carried out Orochimaru's orders down to the last drop. She never thought her hands were possible of getting more stained in blood until she looked into the open eyes of a decaying corpse, still withering with the last bit of warmth as she exited his body with an echo of a sigh.
It wasn't sorrow that filled her heart with a sickly silence. The rain fell against the house, pelting droplets against the roof and running down the clear glass windows. She slowly took the scroll from the rain ninja's rigid corpse with a frown, as she found his fingers were stiff with his hold on it.
None to gently she ripped it from his hands moments later and glanced out of the window once more before opening the bindings around the scroll and looking over the markings of Jutsu forbidden to the rain village clan Hoshimozu. She let out one last sigh and glanced towards the corpse behind her.
"You chose death," she mumbled, kicking his body over so his face fell against the floor and his dead gaze no longer stared her down in uncomfortable silence.
She tucked the scroll into her weapons pouch with a hollow huff of annoyance as she pulled out her hood and walked out of the drafty house and into the rain.
She could vaguely feel the Chakra of the dead man's partner and quickly used the moisture of the droplets to wash away the blood. She knew, judging by the apprehension that swelled in her gut, that if she was caught, she was as good as dead. Perhaps she had been too hasty to accept this mission, too hasty to earn every last but of Orochimaru's trust. She told herself, often, that it was so he wouldn't expect a future betrayal, but in the dead of night or long silences of her alone with her thoughts, she knew. She knew she actually wanted it. She wanted to mean something to somebody.
