The Enemy of My Enemy

Chapter 11: Choices

They were all over her. Hands. Their hands were all over her. Rough, invasive, and disgusting.

Tears formed at the edge of her emerald eyes as they disgraced and violated her. A man held her from behind, keeping her arms pinned behind her while his hand freely moved and groped her chest. Another nuzzled her neck and tried to kiss her in a manner that was anything but affectionate, while a third male had his hands all over her thighs, though not for long...

She shut her eyes, unable to watch them anymore and suddenly she heard the familiar sound of death, a man's last breath. Warm blood splattered over her face, the coppery, metallic scent wafting up to her nose and she opened her eyes to see him...

Kakashi stood there, his eyes a dark crimson color that glowed with such ferocity. Fresh scarlet fluids colored his bare chest as well as glowing marks that were sprawled all over his toned body. He snarled, holding the head of the man he just killed with his bare hands by its hair. The mark giving him strength to detach a man's head from his shoulders with a simple twist and pull.

He laughed, throwing his head back as chuckles emitted from his throat and he tossed the severed head away as if it was trash. He looked at them, Kakashi looked at the two remaining men who held Akemi. One who's hands fell from her breasts to his knife while the other just trembled with fear deep in his eyes.

He snarled at them, moving to pick up the two who had dared to touch her. His Akemi. He lifted them both up by their collars and before they could react, he threw them into the nearby wall with extraordinary strength.

The wall split and cracked on impact and two sharp groans emitted from the men, Orochimaru's followers. One collapsed on his knees, while the other stayed in his imprint on the wall. Both of them coughed up blood, but that wasn't the worse of what they would feel yet. The Hatake mercilessly walked up to them, driving his heel down onto the spine of the one who knelt at his feet. The follower screamed in agony, but kakashi did not stop. He continued grinding his foot into the man's back with a wicked grin on his face.

'Suffer...'

'No... This isn't Kakashi...'

Akemi watched with wide eyes, the cruelty of the man who wore the mask of her trusted sempai.

'Kakashi wouldn't do this; he wouldn't hurt with such a horrible smile on his face. This isn't Kakashi, this isn't him. '

This wasn't the kind man she knew. She flinched as soon his foot came down on the suffering man's head, reducing it to nothing but a splatter of crimson on the already bloodstained ground. He laughed, such a horrid cackle before he moved and a dark, ominous crackle sounded from his hand. He formed a raikiri like nothing before, instead of its usual blue hue, it had a black shade.

He moved slowly, savoring the moment and the fear in the other man's eyes just before he ended his life. The raikiri easily pierced through the follower's armor and body forming a hole where the jutsu obliterated his heart and surrounding flesh. The horrible smell of burning flesh wafted from his body before Kakashi pulled his hand out and the corpse fell to the ground, losing it's only support. The beast, soon turned towards Akemi.

He saw her, the trembling girl who sat ragged on the ground. She was a horrible mess, tears, dirt and blood streaked her cheeks. Her clothes were ripped, torn and filthy. Her limbs hung limply at her sides, weak, tired and useless. She shook uncontrollably and she looked up at him with an unreadable expression on her face framed with messy red hair.

Was she afraid?... Of him?

The silver haired shinobi tilted his head with a curious expression before he stepped towards her. She didn't move or rather she was unable to. Shocked. Fright and exhaustion held her down. He soon knelt down in front of her, his scarlet eyes looking into her terrified emerald ones before his hand tentatively reached out. His fingers pushed away the stray strands of hair and his hand rested on her cheek, caressing the softness of her skin. He opened his mouth to speak, his voice gruff, yet warm as he did so. He said only four words, four words that meant the world to her;