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Baby Sannin...Something.
Summer on the battlefields smelled like nothing but death. It lingered like a disease in the air, rotting, cloying. It wasn’t the first time any of them had seen stretches like this--ground turned up and scattered with weapons and blood, and sometimes scorch marks—it was just the first time they got there before anyone had cleared away the bodies.
"Just keep going," Sarutobi-sensei told them, grimly. But of course they all looked. Jiraiya took one glance at one of the closer corpses and swore violently under his breath, green for what would be easily be the next few hours. It was a shinobi bent into a crater, pinned into the dirt by a snapped blade through the neck. Still wearing a forehead protector but it was Tsunade who noticed that the front of it had been melted off. Later she would remember that she /had/ seen the barest traces of the Leaf sigil, at the one corner that hadn’t been eaten away by acid—or maybe fire. Later, after the mission, which was very simple actually, deliver the message and return to the village, no actual combat involved. At the time, she shook her head, and turned back to the path.
'I don’t want to die like that,' she thought. She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until she felt cool fingers wrap around her wrist, hard, and looked up to find Orochimaru, his gaze fixed on the dead man. Eyes wider than she’d ever seen them.
"Neither do I," he whispered. He didn’t look away.
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It's like painting: I've always been impressed with people who can render so much with an economy of assured brush strokes. In less than a thousand words, you've managed to cram in three very observant characterizations (Jiraiya, you poor cad) along with the tiniest of details (corroded hitae-ate, jagged terrain) that render the whole with a immediacy you just don't see in fanfic.
Plus, there's actually a oddly sympathetic note to Orochimaru's dialogue that makes me uncomfortable because I want to hate him, oh, how I WANT to hate him.
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Uh. Can't think of anything else immediately off the top of my head. There's a sore shortage, I'm afraid. (especially of good ol' het pr0n. le sigh.)Hope this helps some, though.
GEH.
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And, to be completely honest, I think your Hyuugas trump all. You're not afraid to make Neji a complete bastard, or Hinata responsible for her neuroses, which is unexpected (but welcome) when you're used to reading rather "glowing" characterizations. You know, those fics where Hinata's just a damaged soul in need of Neji's sweet, romantic lovin'? YOU HEAL THIS WOUND ON THE WORLD.
Kinda makes me want to write, too. Ah, revenge against the wank. The most noble motive of them all.
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