Perfection

Disclaimer: Naruto is not mine. Unfortunate, but true.


- This is basically just something that popped into my head one night. It's inspired by Audioslave -- Shadow of the Sun. I'm not too sure whether it's going to be continued or not, though I am rather fond of the situation. We'll see, I suppose.

~Perfection~

Every drop of flame
Lights a candle in
Memory of the one
Who lived inside my skin


In the darkened corridors of some outlandish structure there were screams. Horrendous sounds filled with pain, pure agony to hear and tainted with a sorrow most would never know. Most could never imagine. Sleep here wasn't the peaceful slumber of innocents; dreams were nonexistent, only their twisted siblings reined here, the never-ending nightmares that were worse than nightmares: it was reality. Gurgled bellows, pleading for a mercy that would never come, echoed off the cold stone walls to rebound and double into the victims' ears as mocking laughter.


"You scream pretty", he would hiss in his lusting voice, deep and gritty with distorted intentions, "Scream again."


In his own uncontrolled fashion the victim would obey, struggling in the chains that gripped his body like malicious claws. They were cold, hard and unyielding even as the helpless victim sought to escape from his immediate vicinity. The screams came again, deep and filled with so much restraint and anger that it sent pleasurable shivers over the captors unnaturally white skin.


"My prize, my treasure, that's enough for today," the man cooed in oddly soft yet tainted tones. "My perfection isn't expendable, now is it, Sasuke-kun?"


The slumped form could only groan in response, head bowed not in a submissive gesture but just because he could no longer lift it. It hurt. Everything hurt, skin, muscle, bone, and mind. Long strands of raven hair hung down in a perfect veil to conceal the teen's face -- boundless eyes deeper than any void, sharply sculpted nose and jaw befitting of the most elegant royalty, fine thin lips permanently molded into a frown or smirk, and all. He was ~perfection~ incarnate.


The man loved to own perfection. Loved to torture and thereby strengthen and defeat the embodiment of serene darkness. Sasuke was his, an angel of vengeance so unlike those hapless creatures of snow-white purity. With a passion as untamable as the ebb and flow of life itself, Sasuke was his.


Orochimaru loved to own Uchiha Sasuke.


In an alternate moment where good was bad and darkness light, Orochimaru pinched the teen's chin between long, slender fingers to lift the boy's head. Accusing pools of deep sea darkness and feral orbs of gold both met and held one another in a spell more powerful than any jutsu. A serpentine tongue darted out to trace the contours of his victim's strong jaw, intentionally lapping at a few stray beads of sweat and blood. The mixture was surprisingly delightful, the salty sweetness and bitter tang complimented each other without the slightest effort.


"Kabuto," the man hissed to the medic ninja standing in the doorway behind him, never breaking eye contact with his scowling Uchiha heir. "Heal Sasuke-kun and bring him to my chambers."


One last offending nibble upon the boy's swollen bottom lip and the man disappeared from sight, sliding into the room's shadows as though part of their very structure; molded from the darkness to fade into it at will.


As silence began to engulf the musty little room, strained only by the teen's shallow, raspy breaths and a soft whine of metal hinges, the silver-haired shinobi approached with steady, nearly mechanical steps to stand before the dangling victim. Ever studious, Kabuto allowed several quiet moments of observation, walking in a loose circle around the bound ninja before halting where he originally began.


"Four lacerations, seven piercing wounds, and two second-degree burns," the medical specialist quickly assessed his patient's injuries before setting to work. Kabuto would have to be swift and precise in his healing to prevent possible scarring. Orochimaru-sama would not be pleased if his favorite instrument were permanently marked, even by him.


~Perfection~ was to stay perfection.