Winter Under the Leaf: Orochimaru of Konoha, the Yondaime Hokage

[Readhead]

(Thank you to ScarredPunLover and MetalDragon for their help brainstorming and editing.)


"He is expecting you, sir," the masked Anbu guard murmured, stepping aside. "Enter."


How appropriate that the old man's final protector wears a gorilla mask. Deliberate choice or happy coincidence?


It must have been a choice, decided Orochimaru of the Sannin, amusing it would have been as a coincidence. The Anbu are the tool of the Hokage, after all. Stripped of personal identity, clan affiliation, and personal relationships for so long as the faces are obscured by their masks, they are free to carry out their orders unburdened by scruple or individual responsibility.


Of course, we all know that isn't really true. No matter how intricate the mask, the man within remains the same.


In this, Orochimaru spoke from experience. He had spent years behind many masks, both the outward bestial faces of the Anbu and much less obvious false faces.


And yet, no matter how many times a snake may cast its skin, the animal remains the same. And… he peered closer at the stock-still guard, anonymous in their black uniform and pale gray flak vest, don't I recognize you, my comrade? Hmm?


"Thank you, Koga," said the Sannin, smiling as the guard stiffened just enough to betray himself. "Keep up the good work."


The tower-top office of the Hokage remained much as it always had; perched above the Academy, bright with the sunlight flooding through the broad windows, and austere, almost free of decoration save for the great banner of fire that hung behind the desk, framing the military leader of Konohagakure against that village's symbol in the eyes of visitors.


Now, that impersonal, picked-bones impression served only to emphasize just how cold it was in the office overlooking the village. Though the windows were shut tight against the January chill and several braziers glowed with hot coals, the office was still cold, the winter warming its way through gaps in the sills and chinks in the walls. Eating into that flagging warmth.


Like a cooling corpse, the heat still lingers within the core even as the skin grows clammy. How appropriate indeed. If I didn't know Teacher as well as I do, I would suspect he'd developed a belated taste for the dramatic.


His Teacher sat behind his desk, just as he always had. As if Orochimaru had come only to deliver a regular report, or for a briefing on a standard mission.


Perhaps in a way I have come for just another briefing, though hardly for anything so transitory as a standard mission.


Thin smoke rose from the old wooden pipe clenched between Sarutobi Hiruzen's teeth as he surveyed his student, not deigning to say a word. Unbothered by the silent treatment, Orochimaru took the opportunity to survey the old man right back, making no effort to conceal his open appraisal.


All he found were more indications of the same flagging strength. His teacher's back was still upright, as straight as ever, but firmness had been replaced by rigidity. Hands that remained dangerous weapons were all but swallowed by the voluminous robes of winter-time felt, leaving the thin old man almost lost within the heavy fabric. A beard, once brown but now nearly completely gray, retreated from the world to a liver-spotted face lined with age and stress.


His hat of office, Orochimaru noticed, was not on his head. Instead, the headpiece of state, the weighty enameled iron construction passed down from the brow of Hashirama, sat instead atop the neat desk before the old man.


I get the distinct impression that he was staring at it before I came in.


"I believe," said his Teacher, his voice still powerful though faded with exhaustion and grief, "that you already know why I have summoned you here today, Orochimaru. Let us not mince words, then."


Not mince words? Hah. "The Professor" neglecting an educational opportunity? I'll believe that when I see it.


Outwardly, Orochimaru nodded. "As you wish. Yes, I think I know why you called me away from all of the various tasks I should be working on right now. Let's get this over with – there's plenty of work to be done. More now," he added, "than there was a day ago."


"Yes," agreed the Hokage, unflinching before the vague accusation. "There is much to be done. So be it."


With a clack, the old man set his pipe aside. Though his face remained as stoically neutral as it had been these last three years, long experience told Orochimaru that he was now the sole focus of the Sandaime Hokage's full attention.


"It is clear that my time as this village's protector has come to an end," pronounced the Hokage. "I have trusted too easily, and time and again my trust has proven misplaced. Lord Fugaku and Lord Hiashi have already stated in no uncertain terms that they have lost confidence in my leadership as a result. They are right to say as much, for I am forced to agree with their righteous anger. I have made too many mistakes to continue in good conscience as the leader of Konohagakure."


First sensible thought you've had in months, Teacher, thought Orochimaru, entirely untroubled by any sympathetic pangs.


The burden of leadership was heavy, the burden of wartime leadership was heavier still; that great weight did not justify a peace-at-all-costs policy, certainly not after the sheer scope of the damages of what had already been termed the Third Great Ninja War.


Peace without rancor or reparations from Iwa would have been bad enough, but could have had a chance of lasting, thanks to Minato's annihilation of their fighting strength. But peace with Kumo, without a decisive battlefield victory to wither their potential? Orochimaru was half tempted to shake his head in disappointment. The years had worn down his respect for the old man, but he could never forget the pillar of strength and wisdom his mentor had once represented. Teacher, you fool, how could you have grown so desperate to not spot the obvious trap? Easy enough to see why Fugaku is so mad, doubly so to understand Hiashi's fury.


Just a week earlier, two days after the signing of the already infamous "Peace Without Rancor" into effect between Iwagakure and the Sunagakure-Konohagakure alliance, envoys from Kumogakure had arrived, led by their second-in-command, the Head Ninja Yoshitoki. They had come at the invitation of the Hokage to establish a peace accord of their own, to put an end to the Eastern Theater of the war in the same way that the Peace Without Rancor had closed the North.


Before the ink even had a chance to dry on the duly signed treaty, Kumo had broken their word and betrayed Konoha's hospitality. Taking advantage of the momentarily lowered guard of his hosts, Yoshitoki had attempted to kidnap the Heiress of the powerful Hyuuga Clan, Hiashi's infant daughter Hinata. The enraged father had pursued the abductor and, with the aid of his twin brother Hizashi, had cornered and killed the Kumo officer. The Hyuuga brothers had returned to Konoha with Hinata tucked in Hiashi's arms and Yoshitaki's severed head in Hizashi's.


The "Hyuuga Affair" had proven the last straw for a village already infuriated that their battlefield success against Iwa would go unrewarded. That the Village Hidden in the Rocks would escape their shameful defeat without paying the bloodprice for the war they had begun was one thing, but a betrayal like this was beyond forgiveness.


"I agree," Orochimaru said, his reply simple and unsmiling. "It is past time, Teacher, that you retired."


"But to whom would I entrust Konohagakure and the Will of Fire?" countered Hiruzen, eyes meeting Orochimaru's squarely. "From where I sit, and from what I have heard from my old teammates, only two options have presented themselves. Namikaze Minato… and you, Orochimaru."


Because Jiraiya already refused the hat, Orochimaru added, and the other clans are too wary of Uchiha supremacy to allow Fugaku to become the Yondaime. Minato's inclusion was inevitable, after his triumphs on the battlefield…


"Previously, you have expressed concerns regarding my fitness as your successor."


The words, already hanging in the cold air, seemed to almost coalesce from the braziers' fumes, spoken aloud at last.


That utterance had been what this whole meeting was leading towards.


What has changed, and what assurances will you require?


"I have," came the implacable agreement. "Some of those concerns I still harbor. Others… Others I have been forced to relinquish after re-examining the events of these last three years.


"You and I are quite different men, my student. I will not pretend that I understand you fully, nor will I pretend to countenance all that you have done.


"On the other hand, I see much of myself in the young Minato. He would be the successor of my heart, a kindred flame dancing with the Will of Fire, yet one who could make that flame blaze even brighter than I'd ever dreamed.


"But of late…" the old man sighed, suddenly Hiruzen again, no longer the Hokage, "Of late, I have come to doubt my heart. I have failed too often and too deeply to still think mine is the only path for the village. I still firmly believe that only through love will we ever find peace… But peace with those who seek only war is impossible, and there are many ways to love the village.


"So tell me, Orochimaru of the Sannin," asked the Sandaime Hokage, in a voice burning with the last embers of his authority, "White Serpent, Summoner of Manda… What is the Will of Fire to you?"


Always your favorite question, Teacher, Orochimaru thought but did not say.


Now was not the time for personal relationships; there was no more room for them here in this moment than there was under the Anbu's mask. Yet, as Orochimaru lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, prepared to meet his Teacher's final examination, he could not help but allow his mind to drift backwards through time.


Back to when a clanless orphan had said his farewells to his parents.


To when that orphan had found a home, first in the bosom of the village, and then on his genin team, under the watchful eye of a much younger Sarutobi Hiruzen.


To the moment ambition had flared to life in his chest, when the white serpent had first thought of swallowing his tail.


To moments strewn across battlefields, rain-lashed and mud-soaked, secret laboratories and filthy field hospitals, brightly lit dissection chambers and dimly lit rooms thick with the earthy scents of decay.


To the simple streets of Konoha, the children laughing as they prepared to face adulthood with knife in hand, the grim-faced men and women readying themselves to sacrifice everything, the black-clad old men and women bowing before shrines to the memories of those whose sacrifice was complete.


"The Will of Fire," said Orochimaru of Konohagakure, "is the sure knowledge that the village will always be greater than any one person, but no person shall be so reduced in the eyes of the village as to lose themselves in the mass.


"It is the testament that all things, properly treated, shall burn, and thus the Will of Fire can foster any, regardless of their background or talents. Weak and strong, noble and pauper, civilian and nin, all contribute to the common flame, and from the dross of hundreds comes the alloy that strengthens us above all other villages.


"It is the certainty that all that we are comes from the village, and that all we have will return to the village in the fullness of time. The strength which the village fosters within us feeds in turn the hungry mouths of the village, while the jutsu we master expands its arsenal. That, as we were taught the lessons of our ancestors and predecessors, so too shall we teach our descendents and successors, so that the village might grow stronger with their contributions.


"That the village itself is the cycle of the young and fresh replacing the old and worn. Each person of the village is a unique and precious resource, cherished and only to be expended with due thought for consequence and cost, and only to be expended when the village will grow stronger for the loss.


"That is the Will of Fire, to find purpose and sustenance in the village and in turn to provide sustenance and purpose to the village."


The flow of words stilled in Orochimaru's mouth, his message delivered. He had not broken eye contact with the Hokage, refusing to blink in the face of this last challenge.


And every word of that was sincere, Teacher, for all I know that it grates upon you that I spoke not a word of peace. For what is peace but stagnation, and what is stagnation but death? The cycle of life moves through all of us, and only through constant rebirth can we escape the final stillness.


"...I hear your answer, Orochimaru," said the Hokage, nodding in slow acknowledgement. "It is not my answer, but that is immaterial; the Will of Fire belongs to us all, and each of us are free to define it as we wish, so long as we remember to keep Konohagakure at its very core.


"You will never be the successor of my heart, my student. Your answer is cold and demanding, and like winter, devours all. But that, again, is immaterial, for I did not call you here to convince you to see things another way. Indeed, another view of things befits this occasion, a fit answer to my failings.


"So be it.


"After three years of war, Kumogakure has slapped away the hand of peace; surely Iwa will not be far behind in renewing their aggression. Three years of bitter autumn was not enough; they demand an equally acrimonious winter.


"So be it.


"The clans of Konoha demand blood for blood, both from their enemies outside our camp and from within. I have tried for weary years to keep them from one another's throats by understanding and appeasement. I see now that in giving with both hands, I have inadvertently bound my arms in my dealings with them.


"So be it.


"Long ago, my old teammate Danzo told me that I did not have the heart to do what a leader must. He was correct in his assessment, but I was wrong in allowing him to compensate for the weaknesses he had identified in me without compensating for the weakness I saw in him. I gave him my blindness and I gave him your services. For this leniency, he has repaid me with sedition and assassination attempts.


"So be it."


Slowly, with the stately grandeur of a mighty tree toppling to the forest floor, the Hokage rose to weary feet.


"Orochimaru of the Sannin," said the Lord Third, Orochimaru's Teacher, "I name you as my successor. Tomorrow, before a council of the clan heads and the jonin of Konohagakure, I shall announce your appointment. In the next breath, I shall announce my resignation.


"Go, my boy," said Sarutobi Hiruzen, sinking back down into the stiff comfort of his uncushioned chair. "Jiraiya is waiting for you at your usual place. Someone perhaps warned him of what we might be discussing, hm? Go and bring him the good news… and I shall prepare everything for tomorrow."

---

Stepping out from the shelter of the Konohagakure Academy, Orochimaru found a very impatient twelve year old waiting for him, shifting eagerly from foot to booted foot in the drifting snow.


Before the door to the Academy's Administrative Division could even close behind him, she had flash-stepped across the frosted lawn, almost running face-first into the Sannin's chest in her enthusiasm.


"So? So?" pressed Mitarashi Anko, genin of Konohagakure and proud member of Team Orochimaru, the three-man genin team led by the Sannin of the same name. "What'd he say, Teacher? What'd he say?"


"He said that only foolish girls stand outside in the cold when there is no need," replied Orochimaru, not without a certain degree of fondness.


He had been told that he should not play favorites with his genin, but Orochimaru had never had patience for such nonsensical rules. Of his three students, only Anko reflected even a sliver of his passion for jutsu back at him, and only Anko had proven worthy of Manda's contract. Of course she would be his natural favorite, and any attempt to say otherwise would only have come off as an obvious lie.


That wasn't to say that his other two students were useless. Hyuuga Nagamasa admittedly came from one of the various offshoots of the Hyuuga Main Family that were all collectively lumped into the Branch Family, but his Byakugan was still quite strong, as was his grasp of his clan's distinctive taijutsu style. Metani Akimi, a clanless nin of civilian parentage, was quite competent in his use of genjutsu and had even managed to pick up a few barrier jutsu. Together with Anko's proclivity for poisoned knives and needles thrown with pinpoint accuracy, Team Orochimaru excelled at pinning down and immobilizing targets before finishing them off with poison, knife, or chakra-enhanced blows.


But of the three, Anko stood head and shoulders over the others in Orochimaru's eyes.


An ideal example of youth, strong and intelligent… A worthy apprentice, at the very least.


"While I cannot divulge the contents of my conversation with the Hokage," Orochimaru said, hastily resuming his trek across snow-bound Konoha, not at all eager to linger in the cold, "what I can say is… That there is absolutely no question that you and the rest of Team Orochimaru will be taking the Chuunin Exam this year."


After all, the Hokage will hardly have time to serve as a jonin instructor on top of everything else.


"We will?!" Anko's eyes were wide with gleeful disbelief from where she looked up at him, bobbing at his elbow. "Hell yeah! We're gonna smash it, just like how we smashed that team of Kiri pukes!"


"That would be quite the surprise," Orochimaru drawled, casting an amused eye on his pupil. "I would be almost as surprised as those fools were, when young Akimi convinced them that their legs were trapped in mud."


It had been a bloodbath, that encounter on a lonely trail near the old border with Uzu, but unremarkable against the backdrop of the war. Just another patrol, sent out to scout the contested borderlands and swallowed up by the dense, misty forests.


Unremarkable, save that it had been the encounter that had seen Anko blooded with her first kill. Nagamasa had already killed by that point, Orochimaru recalled, having struck a lucky blow on an unwary Iwa chuunin during one of that village's attempts at forcing a breakthrough in Konoha's northern frontier. It had also been the day when Akimi had taken his first life as well, after Orochimaru ordered his student to finish off the two Kiri nin who had survived the initial onslaught. Seriously wounded and shocked by their abrupt misfortune, neither the man nor the woman had put up any serious resistance.


Orochimaru had been quite impressed with his young students that day, and had awarded his portion of the bounty on Kiri scalps to his genin in recognition of their true graduation into Konohagakure's ranks.


"You'll see, Teacher!" Anko vowed, clenched fists raised to her chin, almost in a boxer's pose. "We're all gonna get promoted by year's end!"


"Bold words," came the Sannin's dry reply. "Don't you think you should tell the others the news before making promises in their name? Go," he said, waving his hand, "shoo. Spread the word and get out of my hair. I have business tonight."


"Getting a victory pint with your friends, you mean?" Anko asked through a knowing grin, and laughed with delight as she skipped backwards to avoid his negligent cuff. "Hah! Just don't stay up too late, old man! Tomorrow's gonna be a big day!"


Message delivered, his energetic student sprinted away into Konoha's deserted streets, hellbent on finding her friends.


Orochimaru stood in the snow and watched her run with mixed feelings.


Old man? He raged in the confines of his head. I've only just turned thirty-nine! I have time! I still have plenty of time!


But she has a point. Orochimaru couldn't help but acknowledge. I am getting old, and that damned hat will only make me older.


Perhaps I will be just as gray as Teacher is now in only a decade… Going gray, slowing down…


Getting old.


An image struck his mind then, of an old man, once a pillar of power and wisdom, bent low with the weight of age, the weight of loss, and the weight of failure. A hat that had reduced one of the greatest men Orochimaru had ever known down to a thin shadow of his former self. A hat that would, by this time tomorrow, belong to him.


How long would it take before he became that old man, too tired to carry that burden any longer?


With a vigorous shake of his head, Orochimaru pushed that thought away, recognizing from long experience the spiraling path it signaled.


I have no time to mope tonight, he told himself firmly. Tonight, there is business to be done.


All must be prepared for tomorrow.

---

"The Old Spot," to the former members of Team Hiruzen, would always and only refer to a dingy izakaya down by the fish market called Masuya. It had been their spot for years, back before the Second Great Ninja War, back when their trio had been supplemented by Kato Dan, and by whichever girl Jiraiya had somehow managed to fool into thinking he wasn't a complete buffoon.


Fourteen years now, since Dan died, thought Orochimaru, staring up at the weatherbeaten sign hanging over that familiar old door, and a year since Tsunade lost herself, fleeing into the night with her old lover's niece. Most of Jiraiya's old conquests are gone too now, I think. I remember a few of their names, and they're all on the Memorial Stone now, just like Nawaki… The Second War was hard enough, and now the Third will continue on…


But what spurs innovation quite like war? Suffering is the mother of invention, and with the authority of the Hokage at my back, what breakthroughs could I achieve?


A smile tugged at Orochimaru's lips as his thoughts drifted away from the dreary past and towards the potentially fruitful future. War, pain, and loss all seemed as inevitable in life, as the daily trek of the sun across the sky, and so there was no need to dwell on them; certainly no need to dwell on the bleak facts of life when he could be proactive instead and search for some way to give it all meaning.


If I can lure Tsunade back home again, the situation would improve still more. With the assistance of the greatest doctor alive, or with medical nin personally trained by her, I could make so much progress…


His old teammate was right where Orochimaru knew he would be, tucked away in a booth out of sight from the door. In younger days, that had always been "their booth," much like how Masuya had always been "their bar," and for all that the Toad Summoner loved to wander, he was ultimately a creature of habit.


I suppose, in a way, we all are. Eventually, we always come back home.


"So?" asked Jiraiya, voice already noticeably slurred, looking up from the table to catch Orochimaru's eye. "Just gonna stand there all night, idiot? Siddown. Grab a glass and tell me what happened."


Slowly, Orochimaru lowered himself down onto the bench across from Jiraiya, and looked down at the table between them. Three sake glasses stood, arrayed around a waiting bottle.


"I'll pour," Orochimaru decided, reaching for the bottle, only to have his hand swatted away.


"No, no," said Jiraiya, shaking his head. "You're the Hokage now, right? The Hokage doesn't pour anyone else's drinks, idiot."


Orochimaru had never fully understood his teammate. Tsunade, he could always read like a book, no matter how much she tried to conceal what she was really feeling behind admittedly real anger, but Jiraiya…


For all that he grins so openly and so often, he has always remained a closed book. As such, he decided, there is no point in dancing around the matter.


"Are you angry about that, Jiraiya?" Orochimaru asked with the bluntness he could only assume Jiraiya appreciated, considering his interactions with his toad summons. "Would you rather that Teacher had chosen you instead?"


Jiraiya stilled in mid-pour, but caught himself before spilling a drop of the rice wine.


"He did," the sage gruffly pointed out. "I turned him down. I'm not the man for the job. Me behind a desk forever? No way."


He didn't meet my eyes when he said that.


"You didn't want the job," Orochimaru agreed. The old man had implied Jiraiya's previous refusal, and Orochimaru had suspected that their Teacher had made the offer long before his recent meeting with the old man, but it was nice to have confirmation. That Jiraiya turned the position down was hardly a surprise, though. The man hated responsibility. "Are you upset that I did? That I did not turn down the offer?"


When an answer was not immediately forthcoming, he pressed, "Would you rather it be Minato who became the Yondaime?"


"Here, idiot," said Jiraiya, shoving a sake glass into Orochimaru's hand instead of answering. "Drink up. A toast to your promotion."


Obligingly, Orochimaru drank. The sake was cheap, sickly sweet garbage, just the same sort that had always been Masuya's stock in trade.


It must be nostalgia that makes Jiraiya love this swill so dearly, he thought, wincing as the sake blazed a path to his gut. I know he can afford the good stuff now, so only memories can explain his preference for this trash.


"Gotta say, I certainly expected to be taking orders from Minato," Jiraiya admitted in a gust of breath reeking of alcohol, his empty glass clinking down on the table. "I really expected the old man to pick him as his successor. Both because of the whole 'Yellow Flash' thing, and because… Well…"


"Because they are two of a kind at heart," Orochimaru said, finishing Jiraiya's sentence for him. "That was precisely why Teacher chose me. After the latest debacle, he… has admitted that he cannot quite trust that his own heart will guide him towards what is truly best for the village. Not in these times, at least."


Orochimaru examined his glass as he worked through his thoughts, analyzing the cheap vessel's rim, seeking imperfections. "I suspect that… well… if Teacher had picked Minato and had to live with seeing his successor make the exact same mistakes he would have made, all in the same endless pursuit of peace… Perhaps he would have preferred to have been sliced down by the shinigami's scythe, rather than endure such a grievous cut upon his soul."


"...Well, at least Minato will have more time with his kid, whenever the little squirt decides to give Kushina a break," said Jiraiya, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a great shrug. "I'm sure he'll welcome that, especially…"


Especially as the seal keeping the Kyuubi imprisoned within his wife will weaken when the moment of birth comes, meaning that Minato will want to be on hand for the occasion.


"Indeed," said Orochimaru, closing the topic.


It wasn't an unimportant matter. The health and well-being of the single most dangerous nin in Konohagakure's ranks was of utmost importance, as was the health and well-being of the man's wife, who happened to be the living prison of the greatest of the Biju. But the topic was a tangent away from what Orochimaru truly needed to discuss with his old teammate now, in the liminal hours between the old administration and the one he hoped to inaugurate.


There will be plenty of time to worry about the Yellow Flash and his Habanero later.


"Jiraiya…" the snake Sannin began, lightly drumming his fingers against the table, "I have a question for you, old friend."


"For the last time," Jiraiya sighed wearily, "I'm not going to give you an autograph, idiot. Don't presume on our old friendship like that – a famous author like me has no time for hangers-on."


Is that a joke? Orochimaru wondered, blinking as he parsed for signs of concealed mirth in Jiraiya's suddenly stony face, or is he just very drunk? Why would this fool think I'd want his autograph, anyway? And really, a smut seller calling himself a famous author?


The moment wavered and cracked as Jiraiya's face split with a wide grin and a bellow of inebriated laughter.


"Ahaha!" the damnable man chortled to himself, wiping his eyes. "You shoulda seen your face, idiot! One day, Orochimaru, you will develop a sense of humor, I promise! Perhaps around the time your balls drop at last, eh?"


"I need your help."


Again, the bluntness served Orochimaru well, as the laughter caught in Jiraiya's throat.


"My help?" his fellow Sannin murmured, peering across the table to stare at Orochimaru. "Don't hear you asking for that very often…"


"It pains me to ask for it now," Orochimaru deftly replied, favoring the toad summoner with a smirk. "Especially if it requires actually spending time with you…"


Jiraiya brayed another laugh at his half-feigned shudder. "Blow it out your ass, idiot!


"But now," the other man said, settling down on his elbows to lean across the table, "seriously, what do you need?"


"Your help," repeated Orochimaru. "Tomorrow, I will become the leader of a village desperate for change. I mean to give Konoha exactly what it desires in that regard, but I cannot do everything by myself. I will require the assistance of a great many people, at least a few of whom I need to trust have Konoha's best interests at heart.


"Unfortunately, you are one of only a scant handful of such people."


"I always have Konoha's best interests at heart. Always," agreed Jiraiya. Then he gave Orochimaru a sharp look. "But not always the interests of the Hokage, you understand?"


I understand that you hate being the one in charge, especially when taking command requires risking lives other than your own. I understand that it is very convenient of you to espouse a 'higher calling' whenever anybody might make demands against you. I understand that, Jiraiya, because I am much the same.


"I do," said Orochimaru, and meant it. "Despite that, you are still one of the vanishingly few people in this world I can trust, and trust is a priceless commodity these days. I would have liked for the princess to be here as well, so I could ask for her assistance too, but…"


"I wish Tsunade was here too…" sighed Jiraiya. "And not just so I could have something more pretty to look at than your snakey mug."


The attempt at humor fell flat. Both men still felt the absence of their third teammate keenly, a wound barely scabbed over. That her loss was not the product of some interloper's hands or a cruel twist of the war, but rather the deliberate result of Tsunade's own actions only twisted the knife.


It might have been easier to bear, had she simply died, the Snake Sannin mused, eyes fixed upon his glass once again. Her memory still could be treasured, then. But to desert in war, to flee away like a coward in the night…


"...Quite," agreed Orochimaru, at a loss for how else he could possibly respond to the plaintive statement. At a loss for how he actually felt about his erstwhile teammate, gone and yet still lingering in the world like a grieving ghost. "But while the Slug Princess's assistance would be invaluable, I am sure that you can pull your own weight too."


"Well… yeah," grimaced Jiraiya. "Suppose that if the war's not over after all, everyone's gonna need to pitch in."


"Yes," agreed Orochimaru, "but not everybody will be called to the battlefield. Not generally, at least.


"I have a different role in mind for you, old friend."


"Oh?" Jiraiya cocked a bushy eyebrow. "Do you now? And what role would that be, hmm?"


"Danzo must go," Orochimaru bluntly replied. "Impressed as I am by his skill at wasting the potential of others, I will not countenance a rogue unit within the Anbu, especially not under the leadership of a man convinced of his own infallibility."


"Danzo, huh?" Jiraiya meditatively poured himself another glass of sake as he spoke, voice ponderous and brow furrowed. "Can't say I'll be sad to see him go. His methods always rubbed me the wrong way. Gotta say, I'm surprised that you'd want him gone, though. You were part of Root for a while, yeah?"


"While you were playing around in Ame, yes," Orochimaru curtly replied, prompting a wince from Jiraiya. "Yes, and that is why I have no doubt that his removal is in Konoha's best interest. The man is a decrepit fool with a worrying amount of influence, to say nothing of his own private army, and is delusional enough to hunger for more."


"He does manage to get his tentacles everywhere," agreed Jiraiya. "You know that'll make removing him a real pain, right? He's been around forever, just as long as Teacher's been."


"And just as long as Teacher's old partners," acknowledged Orochimaru, "which is why the old man vacating his office represents a rare opportunity to sweep the board clean. Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu have served Konoha long and faithfully, which is why they will be strongly encouraged to retire. That will remove Danzo's above-board contacts in the Hokage's Office.


"As far as the Root goes…"


That organization is an absolute squandering of resources, to say nothing of a running sore on the relationship between the clans and the Hokage, Orochimaru nearly sighed. I'd almost be impressed with the scope and potential of Root if it wasn't so wasted on hobbling ourselves for Danzo's petty games.


"Yes?" Jiraiya pressed when Orochimaru paused. "What do you plan to do about all of Danzo's stolen children?"


"What else do you do with stolen property but return it to its rightful owners?" retorted Orochimaru. "Truly, the Root contains Aburame, Hyuuga, Inuzuka… but nothing about their activities suggests that Danzo is getting any better use out of them then their own native clans would. Root would be disbanded, all clan members returned to the leadership of their clanheads and all clanless members mixed back into Konoha's standard formations. Truly, there's no point to Root. Everything they can do, the regular Anbu black ops teams can do just as well."


"...Danzo is also the source of much of the Hokage's intelligence about the clans within Konoha, as well as the movements of our enemies without," Jiraiya noted carefully, swirling the contents of his glass, as if he meant to enjoy the bouquet of the trash it contained. "What would you do to fill in the hole his absence would open?"


"That is not my question to answer, old friend," Orochimaru said, and now it was his turn to grin at his former teammate. "After all, I am no spymaster; I would leave such work to a professional, such as yourself."


When Jiraiya at last stopped coughing, he pointed an accusing finger across the table. "I see what you're doing, you snake!"


"What am I doing?" drawled Orochimaru. "Installing a trustworthy and capable figure with unquestionable loyalty to Konoha into a key role? I absolutely am."


"That's–"


"Also," Orochimaru continued, talking over Jiraiya's interjection, "you will be taking on students, Jiraiya. This is non-negotiable, and before you accuse me of getting ahead of myself, I would be making the same demand of Tsunade, were she still with us instead of drinking her way into a stupor somewhere. Both of you are masters of your craft, and the prospect that either of you could die without passing on your knowledge so that the village might continue to prosper for it in your absence is absurd."


"Well, what about you, then?" Jiraiya shot back, "You're the so-called 'Master of a Thousand Jutsu,' right? Why aren't you taking a post at the Academy or whatever?!"


"I foresee a rather significant incumbrance upon my schedule for the foreseeable future," dryly remarked Orochimaru, allowing himself a small and "humble" smile, "and besides that, I still have a genin team to teach. A responsibility, might I add, that you have so far evaded. Besides," he smirked, "once Anko makes chuunin, I plan to offer her a dedicated apprenticeship. She will learn my jutsu, and then she can be bothered with the work of teaching them to others."


Thwarted, Jiraiya settled back down onto the bench, still somewhat mutinous. "I wasn't born to live behind a desk," he muttered. "A man like me needs time to roam the world, to seek fresh sources of inspiration, to–"


"Get permanently barred from every bathhouse not behind Iwa or Kumo lines, yes," Orochimaru broke in with a nod. "And I would rather be in my laboratory, developing new jutsu and refining my own capabilities, then sitting in meetings or conducting court martials. Unfortunately, Konoha has called and has given me new duties. Now, she is calling you, Jiraiya, and telling you that, for now, at least, your rambling days are over."


While Jiraiya did not reply immediately, Orochimaru saw the betraying flicker in his eyes, and moved for the kill.


"You can turn your back on Konoha, Jiraiya," he told his old teammate, voice lowered so the other man had to lean in to hear over the sounds of the bar. "Just like Tsunade, you are free to run from your duty. I will not order any pursuit; I will even do as the old man did for Tsunade and will lie on your behalf, and will claim that you are simply on long-term detached duty.


"But if you are going to run, run now, old friend, before I have to put my trust in you. And if you abandon me now, when I have come as a friend asking for aid in my time of need, in Konoha's time of need, don't ever come back. If you will not contribute fuel to the fire, there will be no place in the warmth for you."


(Previously posted in my Ideas and Snippets Thread)

 

[Readhead]

(Thank you to ScarredPunLover and MetalDragon for their help brainstorming and editing.)


"Lord Hiashi and Lord Fugaku to see you, Lord Hokage," murmured the fox-masked Anbu, kneeling by the door to Orochimaru's new office.


"Send them in," the new Hokage briskly directed from behind a desk utterly swamped in paperwork.


Every last page of which would have you believe that it is of the utmost importance to the leadership transition, Orochimaru thought with an inner sneer. I bet those two fossils are behind this. If they think they can paralyze the first days of my administration with red tape, then they've got another thing coming.


As the Anbu slipped from sight, Orochimaru rose from his chair and, with a twitch of his finger, accelerated into motion.


While the Body Flicker Technique was common to all but the poorest of nin, few bothered to experiment with the jutsu. The great majority were content with its most basic application, the easily executed chakra-enhanced sprint along a straight line within the user's line of sight. Blindingly fast in its execution, this movement essentially transported a shinobi to a point of their choice within their line of sight, with the faint blur of their motion at the point of origin disguised by the dropping of a smoke bomb or a similar tool.


But for any shinobi with halfway decent control over their chakra and body, Orochimaru noted, seizing handfuls of loose documents and scrolls and hastily shoving them into drawers or into neatly stacked piles atop surfaces other than his own desk, should be able to do far more with the Body Flicker than just hurl themselves in a straight line at breakneck speeds.


That said, Orochimaru almost sighed, feeling the ever more pressing demands upon his time weighing down his mind, jutsu is all well and good, but what I really need are a few reliable aides to sift through this mess and tell me which pieces actually are important. Readiness reports, for example, would be my choice for light reading...


By the time that the door opened again and the masked Anbu ushered the two clanheads into the Hokage's Office, the newly minted Yondaime Hokage was seated again behind his conspicuously clear desk. His hands neatly folded as he waited for his two guests to take their seats on a pair of waiting chairs hastily unpacked from a discreet closet, and not so much as a hair out of place.


"Lord Fugaku, Lord Hiashi," said Orochimaru, greeting the clanheads with a smile, "thank you for making time to share a private word with me. These are busy times for us all."


"When the Hokage calls, only a fool wouldn't answer," Uchiha Fugaku replied with a shrug, although he looked, to Orochimaru's private gratification, surprised by the decidedly casual greeting, and by the implication that he was doing the Hokage a favor with his attendance. "Congratulations on your ascension, by the way."


"Thank you," the Sannin graciously replied, taking the addition after the momentary pause in the spirit the Uchiha clanhead doubtless intended.


As a token of submission from the dark horse contender to the leadership of Konoha.


If it hadn't been for the general antipathy for the Uchiha Clan held by certain segments of Konoha, I would likely even now be accepting my first mission from Fugaku, the first Uchiha Hokage.


It is almost a shame, Orochimaru ruminated, that a man with such potential would be held back for no reason more than old suspicions hardened into prejudice.


None of which, the Hokage knew, reflects any information of use about Fugaku himself. There would have been much to recommend him for the office I now fill. His war record was almost as strong as my own and his role as the head of the Uchiha would have guaranteed a firm base of support.


Doubtlessly none of this is lost on the man either.


"My lords," Orochimaru said aloud, sweeping his gaze from Fugaku's stoic grimace to Hiashi's equally immobile blank mask of a face, "I have a great deal in mind for Konoha, and much that I would like to discuss with you both in regards to how we three might collaborate to guarantee our beloved Leaf's continued spread under the sun.


"However, before we can start planning for the future, we must handle the residue of the past."


At a gesture from the Hokage, an Anbu snapped into view, Body Flickering in from a doorway cunningly concealed in the wall of the office.


Considering how Fugaku's Sharingan is most certainly capable of tracking even objects moving faster than the unaided eye can process, and how Hiashi's Byakugan certainly informed him of the woman crouching behind a sliding panel, I really don't know why you bothered. Orochimaru directed the thought at the frog-masked Anbu as he accepted the cedar box the woman carried. Truly, if the effect of the concealment is lost, just use the door.


But such things had long calcified into the bones of the secretive subculture of serving Anbu. By this point, it would far too troublesome to reshape the institutions of the Hokage's secret service; after all, under the anonymizing masks, clan shinobi remained, with all of the stubborn attachment to tradition that implied.


Besides, it wasn't like Orochimaru was insensate to the effect of the surprise entrance. Perhaps even above the notably dramatic ranks of his fellow jonin, the Hokage could appreciate applying a good dramatic flair to Konohagakure's service.


What irked his professional pride as a shinobi was seeing such theatrics wasted on the wrong audience.


For maximal effect, you must tailor your approach specific to the foes you intend to face and the battle you intend to wage. If you don't so tailor your efforts, you're just wasting yours and everybody else's time. That earned a disapproving shake of the Hokage's head. Dramatics were all well and good, but waste was abhorrent and a lack of professionalism unforgivable. Sadly, I suspect that the Anbu will be far too busy in the near future for me to assign them remedial training regarding both presentation and economization of their efforts.


Some other time, then.


Pushing those errant thoughts from his mind, the Snake Sannin turned his focus back to the present and regarded his guests.


"Lord Hiashi," Orochimaru began "of late, you have suffered a grievous wrong at the hands of a guest of Konoha.


"While neither the village nor its leader harmed you directly, nor intended harm to come to you, the crimes of a guest are the responsibility of the host.


"Fortunately," Orochimaru smirked, pushing the polished wooden box across the desk and almost into Hiashi's lap, the Hyuuga clanhead deigning to reach out to take the thing before it thudded down into his lap, "your prompt, skillful, and, above all, decisive action neatly handled the practical end of that responsibility. But, as the wronged party, I felt it only right that you see the reply that Konohagakure shall send to our erstwhile guests in Kumogakure."


Hiashi did a good job of maintaining his mask of composure, but Orochimaru could tell the clanhead was eyeing the box warily. Given his predecessor, Orochimaru could hardly blame the man for expecting some sort of infuriating reversal in the name of appeasing peace.


You would think that my reputation would speak for itself, the Hokage thought, just a touch grumpily. Hopefully, this little exercise should serve as a useful reminder.


"Go ahead," he said, gesturing at the pale-eyed man, who was hefting the box experimentally, a slight furrow across his brow, "open it. Feast your eyes."


Doing as he was bid, Hiashi flipped the delicate latch open and lifted the engraved lid up to release a cloud of camphor and cedar. Beneath those arboreal scents, though, under the rich saps, another scent, instantly identified by all three in attendance, killers and war veterans all, wriggled through the nostrils.


After a moment, and without any change in his expression that Orochimaru could detect, Hiashi closed the box again, and carefully redid the latch.


"This," the Hyuuga clanhead stated, hefting the box again as he met Orochimaru's eyes, "will certainly send a message. One that cannot be misunderstood."


He did not sound the least bit displeased. Indeed, under the careful courtly tones, Orochimaru imagined he heard a distinctly inelegant note of brutal satisfaction.



"I concur," nodded Fugaku, whose grim smile made his own thoughts on the matter quite clear. "The paper in his mouth – I assume that is a copy of the treaty he was to sign?"


"Kumo's copy, to be precise," agreed Orochimaru. "Complete with Yoshitoki's own signature below their seal. It is, after all, their copy, and," Orochimaru's teeth flashed in a grin, "as Yoshitoki himself learned, we here in Konoha are quite keen that ownership be respected, are we not?"


"While I certainly approve of the intent of this gesture," Fugaku said after a moment of respectful silence, "this will, Lord Fourth, guarantee a resumption of hostilities. In your estimation, is the village prepared for another year of war, if not longer?"


An excellent question from Fugaku; it is never wise to pick a fight you are not certain you can win. Nevertheless…


"It is indeed true that Konoha can ill afford to prosecute this costly war much longer," acknowledged Orochimaru, his statement punctuated with a solemn nod. It had indeed been a bloody struggle, and though most of that blood had been shed by Konoha's enemies, the deployment of Academy graduates to the front lines spoke volumes about the cost Konoha had paid for its victories. "Regrettably, Lord Fugaku, recent events have proven that promises of peace could cost us just as dearly. War, for all its brutality, is brutal in its simple honesty. There are enemies, who must be killed, and comrades, who must be supported. There are missions to be accomplished and targets to be killed. Politics reduced by the stroke of the sword to the most fundamental level.


"Peace without victory, though…"


That was what we had after the Second War, Orochimaru grimly knew. All we did, all we lost… Facing down Hanzo, turning Suna's sands red… The cream of a generation skimmed away, and all for a return to status quo, and another war only five years later. But now, with Suna on side and our western flank secured…


"The fog descends, then, over that confusion," Orochimaru continued, "or perhaps just the Cloud and the Mist. Without victory, there can be no peace, for how can there ever be peace with men who would smile even as they attempt to steal your children from their cradles?"


Hiashi shifted almost imperceptibly at that. His eyes tensing, hands twitching, lips curling, but only for a fraction of a second before his mask of composure slammed back down. If Orochimaru was a ninja of any less skill and experience, if he had any less of a keen eye for detail, if he wasn't specifically looking for it, he might have missed it.


But I didn't. Orochimaru very carefully didn't smirk.


"In the end, I can only conclude that, regrettably, Konoha must shoulder the burden of war," Orochimaru replied, meeting the Uchiha's gaze squarely. "Lord Fugaku, you and I have both spent much time on the frontlines in the north and the east, as has Lord Hiashi," he added, nodding in the Hyuuga's direction.


"I will not waste our time with empty assurances. Yes, the war will continue, and the losses inflicted and sustained will continue to accrue. Yes, I am confident that we can continue to hold the lines as they currently stand. If Iwa actually decides to honor the peace they signed, unlike Kumo, and opts to take the next several years to lick their wounds, we can leave control over that entire front to our allies from Suna, freeing ourselves to focus on our enemies to the east.


"But," the Yondaime Hokage raised a finger, "I am not confident that this war will be over in a year, or even necessarily in three years. Peace would buy a temporary end to our war, but as Kumo so handily proved, diplomacy itself can be a weapon just as dangerous as any jutsu. True peace requires either the complete exhaustion of the fighting potential of one of the belligerents, or for trust between lifelong enemies to blossom.


"Given the origins of this village," Orochimaru sent a pointed look Fugaku's way. "I won't say it is impossible, but given recent events… I won't hold my breath. And these days, the village can ill afford for me to take foolish chances out of whimsy and blind optimism.


"Make no mistake, my lords; we can either prepare to fight this war for as long as it takes to triumph, or we can expose our throats and pray for the mercy of our enemies. There is no other option besides victory or death."


Hiashi gave a curt nod to that pronouncement, and in those pale eyes set in the blankness of that finely-carved face, Orochimaru detected a vindictive eagerness. 'Good,' those milky Hyuuga eyes declared, 'let them come close, so I might kill them all myself.'


That's one of the two major clans on board, Orochimaru thought, satisfied. So long as Hizashi doesn't convince him, in Teacher's finest traditions, to set his vengeance aside in the name of reconciliation with Kumo, I can rely on the Hyuuga to be my staunchest supporters on the Eastern Front.


"Strong words," Fugaku acknowledged, "but aside from setting our shoulders and clenching our teeth, what else would you have Konoha do, to continue shouldering this heavy burden?"


Another practical question, Orochimaru noted, turning a considering eye back on the Uchiha. A practical question from a practical man… And yet, while Fugaku lacks the vengefulness of Hiashi, he has every measure the same pride.


"Lord Fugaku," Orochimaru began, his tone detached, almost uncaring. As if the topic of discussion was something as mundane as a request from the Uchiha-controlled Military Police for an expansion on their annual budget. "You and your clan have rendered impressive service to Konohagakure on the front lines, from Stone to whatever is left of Whirlpool. Tell me, why are none of your clan in command of any sector across any of the fronts?"


The question was hypothetical, but Orochimaru still paused, injecting a moment of silence into the exchange as if he was waiting for the clanhead to reply.


When no reply was forthcoming from the grim-faced man, the Hokage answered his own question. "The fault lies with the foolish internal divisions that have unacceptably weakened Konoha in the face of her enemies. Suspicion and jealousy erode the bonds of comradery and grant our enemies breathing room as we maneuver against one another.


"This is particularly the case when it comes to the public attitudes against your clan, Lord Fugaku. Old quarrels dating back to a time before any of us were born have been kept alive by those who stand to profit from the minimization of the Uchiha from Konoha's administration. I believe we both know of whom I speak."


"I would not name names without evidence of slander," Fugaku tersely replied, even as his head dipped in a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Bitter words are only wind, so long as action is not taken."


Interesting that Fugaku is even now restraining his tongue. Either he suspects that I am trying to bait him into exposing some scheme of his, perhaps as an excuse to turn on the Uchiha myself, or he suspects that the security of the Hokage's Office itself is insufficient to keep word of his antipathy from Danzo's ears.


"As expected of the Chief of Konoha's Military Police, you do not act without evidence," said Orochimaru, a bland smile on his face. "It is good that you are temperate enough to restrain yourself in the face of all the slights against your family, your kin, and yourself.


"As for myself," the Hokage continued, "I have a responsibility to safeguard the well-being and honor of all Konoha, so that the village might prosper with the contributions of all who bear the Leaf. So, Lord Fugaku, hear this: I will not allow assaults against the Uchiha within Konohagakure. So long as Lord Madara's house continues to loyally serve the village that he founded alongside Lord Hashirama, the village's gates will always be open to you and your kin.


"Do you understand what I am saying?"


Do you understand that I am preparing to tear out Danzo's entire powerbase, root and stem? Do you understand, by that same token, that I will not permit any shadow governments within the walls of my village, be they Uchiha or Shimura?


By the appraising look in Fugaku's eyes, Orochimaru decided that yes, he rather did understand the message his Hokage was conveying.


"I hear, Lord," the master of the Uchiha formally replied. "I swear that my clan shall continue to honor our ancestor's commitment. We shall repay true service with true service, and shall pay blood for treachery in accordance with the traditions."


"I have heard your vow," acknowledged the Yondaime Hokage, "and you have heard mine, but words are cheap. I shall," Orochimaru continued, turning his head to encompass the silent Hiashi in his address, "make a further commitment. Should Iwa return to the shelter of the Rock to burn their dead and honor the peace, I shall take steps to restore rationality and normalcy to our wartime effort.


"New commands in the war against Kumo and the struggle to keep Kiri raiders far from our homes will require new officers, and I will carefully consider any recommendations you, or your fellow clanheads, have to make regarding jonin or tokujo worthy of the responsibility of command.


"More importantly," Orochimaru's eyes swiveled to boldly meet Fugaku's black eyes once more, "as soon as we can confirm that peace with Iwa is holding, I shall order the reassignment of all shinobi and kunoichi under the age of twelve back to the interior of Konoha, away from the Front. They shall be given time to recover from wartime activity and to retrain their skills to restore foundational basics before taking over contracts within the Lands of Fire, River, and Wind."


Yes, Fugaku, thought Orochimaru, holding the man's gaze, that means that your precious genius son will be pulled away from the frontlines before a premature death in the cold mud finds your heir. He will be returning to the village alongside every other underaged soldier in our ranks, so no shame or accusation of cowardice will tar Itachi's name as a consequence.


"That is a wise decision," said Hiashi, to Orochimaru's hidden surprise. He hadn't expected the other clanhead to voice an opinion on the matter. "Just months ago, I would have said otherwise, but between the Yellow Flash's victory over Iwa, and…"


And… what?


There was an uncharacteristic hesitation in the noble's tone, a crack in that always-impeccable mask.


Through the facade of the Head of the Hyuuga Clan, the man Hiashi peered out.


"...And becoming a father myself," continued the Hyuuga clanhead a moment later, with just a touch of embarrassment in his voice, "I find my estimation of the war to have shifted slightly. We should take this chance, no matter how temporary, to refresh our strength. And children should have a chance to grow into their potential before Konoha demands their sacrifice."


How unexpectedly sympathetic on Hiashi's part, reflected Orochimaru, and how convenient that he discovers a heart now, when it could be his daughter or his nephew on the chopping block.


But who am I to chide anybody for using the power of my office to advance my personal projects? And on that note, and on the note of Hiashi's new daughter and nephew…


"Lord Hiashi…"


Pausing, Orochimaru licked his lips, contemplating how to raise this topic. A great deal hung upon it, both in terms of the village's stability and a fascinating line of research.


This calls for a gentle touch.


"Lord Hiashi," the Hokage began again, "I have no siblings myself, but I consider my old teammate, the Toad Sage Jiraiya, as something like a brother."


Gets in my way, constantly picking fights, getting drunk at the least opportune times… By all accounts, very brotherly activities.


"I have great respect for the man," Orochimaru went on, "and though our values and choices differ greatly, I trust that he works always towards the greater good of Konohagakure."


Ah, you understand what I am angling at, Orochimaru crooned to himself, noting the tiny furrow between Hiashi's pupiless eyes. Come now, Hiashi, do you think that a stoic expression is sufficient to keep this snake from your secrets? I have one of your clan as my genin; I would be a poor teacher if I was incapable of deciphering his Hyuuga blankness to find the yolk within the egg.


"That is an admirable expression of faith in Lord Jiraiya," replied the Hyuuga woodenly. "I fail to see its relevance to your decision to withdraw Konoha's youth from the battle lines."


"Quite so," agreed Orochimaru, noting how Fugaku was paying close attention to the conversation, his watchman's face closed around keen eyes. "Please, pardon my non sequitur. I was simply contemplating how you are not the only new father in your clan… How is your twin, Hizashi? He just had a son himself, only a year or so ago, didn't he?"


I really must hand it to Hyuuga stoicism; he barely winced at all at the mention. But… the thin, serpentine tongue slipped out from between Orochimaru's lips, tasting the air. Tasting fear…? What is Hiashi so worried about, hmm?


The tongue was a gift from Manda, of a sort. The great serpent, always proud, frequently attacked Orochimaru when summoned, demanding that the human reassert his worth as a summoner or otherwise feed Manda's hunger. Orochimaru had once ripped the tongue out from between his summon's teeth, and had implanted it into his own mouth as a test.


Humans are difficult to understand at the best of times. Tasting their emotions simplifies matters. Orochimaru recalled Jiraya. Frustrating, nonsensical, utterly irrational Jiraya. …Sometimes.


"Only eight months ago, Lord Fourth," corrected the Hyuuga clanhead. "The boy is called Neji."


"Neji, hmm?" The Hokage rolled the name around in his mouth, and then, his prey sensed, struck. "You will be branding him, then? In three years time, I mean, when your daughter turns three. That is the Hyuuga tradition, is it not?"


If the Hyuuga had been pale before, he could no longer be described as such. Ghastly, perhaps, would be a better descriptor. Bloodless lips pressed taut into a caricature of his usual stoic frown, and below the dark curves of his eyebrows, Orochimaru read a moment of pain in the clanhead's wide eyes.


To the Hokage's approval, Hiashi's shock only lasted for that brief moment. When he replied, no hint of a tremor or strain touched his voice.


"It is the tradition of the clan," Hiashi confirmed tonelessly. "Some would say that it is the destiny of the Branch Family that they serve the Main Family in such a way; I would say that it is of paramount importance that the Byakugan be protected and preserved within the auspices of the clan."


An interesting distinction between those two… "Some would say," but not, presumably, you, Lord Hiashi? Who then? Your retired father, who stepped down from leadership of the clan only last year? The same man who seared that mark onto your twin brother's forehead?


"Then why not also brand yourself and your offspring with that seal as well?" Orochimaru inquired, leaning forwards slightly in his chair. "Surely the vulnerability of the Main Family must worry the Hyuuga greatly, particularly," he added, nodding at the box still in Hiashi's hands, "in light of recent actions."


"...It is a source of concern," admitted Hiashi, "but the Caged Bird Seal is too great a vulnerability to place upon the Main Family. Whoever places that seal, and whoever they pass control over it to, may at their pleasure inflict pain to coerce obedience upon any so sealed.


"It is a function of the seal; that pain is, in part, the destruction of the cells of the brain and of the eye, and if the seal is activated for long enough, the bearer's Byakugan might be destroyed and the bearer killed. This pain is inflicted upon the soul itself, and thus neither distance nor fortifications are any defense against it. Having any man hold that sort of lever over the Head of the Hyuuga Clan is unacceptable."


And yet it is acceptable that you should hold that sway over your brother and your cousins. Delightful.


"As I said earlier," the Yondaime Hokage said, relaxing back into his chair, "I have an obligation to care for the welfare and honor of all who loyally serve Konohagakure. However," he held up a quelling hand, though neither clanhead had so much as hinted at an interruption, "I am not so great of a fool as to intercede in clan business, especially as I too very much wish that Konoha should preserve its monopoly over its dojutsu in the future."


And yes, Fugaku, that includes you. No need to look quite so suspicious… After all, using Uchiha missing nin as test subjects or potential donors would be far less problematic than kidnapping comrades.


"So," Orochimaru continued, "instead allow me to provide a… suggestion, if you would, that I believe would provide great benefits to both the Hyuuga Clan and all of Konohagakure."


"...I am, of course, always willing to hear what the Hokage might suggest," replied Hiashi, carefully noncommittal. "That said, I will not be compelled into any action regarding management of my clan. We serve Konoha, but we are not slaves to the Leaf."


A telling choice of words, Lord Hiashi. I could close my eyes and still see the guilt and shame worming beneath your skin.


"As I mentioned earlier," Orochimaru remarked, casually nonchalant in the face of Hiashi's total focus, "I trust Jiraiya as a servant of Konoha. I also trust him as a fuuinjutsu master almost without compare, perhaps rivaled only by his student, Namikaze Minato. I propose that one or both spend some time studying your family's seal, if you would consent to it."


"And what," asked Hiashi, voice tense, "would they be in search of, Lord Hokage?"


"I would set them to answer a single, simple question," replied Orochimaru, voice still light. "Would the capacity of the seal to destroy the Byakugan in the event of the bearer's death or the removal of the eye from the bearer's skull be impacted by the disentanglement of the element that allows for the voluntary partial activation of the seal?


"In other words, Lord Hiashi, I would set forth to see if there is any way that we can continue to safeguard the Byakugan without reducing a subset of the shinobi and kunoichi of Konoha, including my genin Nagamasa, to a degree of subservience neither expected nor asked of any of their comrades.


"Why," Orochimaru continued, spreading his arms wide, claiming a vista of opportunities seen only to him, "if the study successfully seperates out and isolates the components of the Caged Bird Seal, such that it could be rebuilt without the vulnerabilities your clan so rightfully dreads, why, the adapted seal could serve the interests of Konoha and her people in a range of applications.


"For example, Lord Fugaku might appreciate a safeguard capable of warding away body thieves who would rob his clansmen, living or dead, of the eyes from their very heads, given an opportunity. But," Orochimaru added, nodding at the Uchiha clanhed, "the study would have to come first, and would have to yield results first. I sincerely doubt any of Lord Madara's blood would approve of any measure that placed his clan under the thumb of another."


Fugaku shifted at that, his hard frown growing harder, but not necessarily disapproving.


Orochimaru kept his gaze on Hiashi, but didn't take his attention off Fugaku, all while giving both a perfectly amiable smile befitting the Hokage. "The findings of the study would, of course, be entrusted to the Hyuuga, Lord Hiashi, to benefit from as your clan would see fit. Now… Would you object to any of this, my lord?"


So, with incentives on the table and mmy reasoning explained… Will you take this opportunity to shift the trajectory of your clan, Lord Hiashi? Are you the sort of man who enjoys having that control over the likes of others, including your brother and, in three years' time, his son? Or are you the sort of man upon whom that power was forced, and who has always felt uneasy wielding it? Orochimaru wondered. Even if Hiashi does object to this whole line of questioning, and even if that questioning produces no answers of note, that insight would still be worth all of this dancing around.


"...I would not object to an examination conducted by Lord Jiraiya or Jonin Namikaze, no…" said Hiashi, his tone dubious but some other emotion barely detectable in his eyes, "I would be… interested in his findings."


"I would be interested as well," interrupted Fugaku, breaking his silence to re-enter the conversation. "If the remote destruction of the eyes truly can be separated from all of the other aspects of the Hyuuga seal, and," he turned to nod at Hiashi, "with the permission of the Hyuuga Clan given, then yes, Lord Hokage, the Uchiha would be interested in pursuing this line of inquiry further. We would even be willing to commit clan resources to assist research, should that prove necessary."


Unsurprised, Orochimaru favored the Uchiha clanhead with an approving smile. "Splendid, Lord Fugaku. I will ensure that Jiraiya hears of your interest, and of your offer of material support. I will leave the seal master to determine his exact requirements…"


Orochimaru paused, reconsidered, and then added, "...Within reason, of course. If he makes any irregular requests, please don't hesitate to let me know."


"I would never second guess Lord Jiraiya's estimations," Uchiha Fugaku gravely intoned, though amusement flickering unmistakably in his coal-black eyes. "And indeed, I believe that we saw the Sannin on our way up, Lord Hokage."


He's actually on time for our meeting? Orochimaru had to fight to keep his brows from rising in surprise. Shocking. If he's sober as well as timely… He must actually be taking things seriously for once.


…I wonder if I should be concerned?


"Yes, I was expecting him," the Hokage smoothly lied. "Now, my lords, if there is nothing else we must urgently discuss…?"


"I would ask that at least one of the messengers you send to the Kumo border to deliver this be of the Hyuuga," said Hiashi, hefting the box pointedly before placing it back on Orochimaru's desk. "I would hear from my own kin the reaction it elicits."


It's very likely that Kumo will kill whoever ends up delivering that message, noted the Snake Sannin. Risking a Hyuuga, even one with sealed Byakugan from the Branch Family, really isn't necessary. Still… Who am I to stand between a man and his revenge, especially when there's comparatively little at stake?


"Certainly," Orochimaru agreed. "Name your man and I will ensure he is on the assigned squad."


"Thank you for your time, Lord Hokage," said Fugaku, rising from his seat and followed a moment later by Hiashi. "Once again, congratulations."


After the door closed behind the two noble clanheads, Orochimaru did not permit himself to slump down and relax, or to free himself from the heavy weight pressing down upon his brows. While he didn't know the exact range of Hyuuga Hiashi's Byakugan, that he could see everything within the Academy grounds from his location in the administration block below the Hokage's Office was certain fact.


What must it be like, to see everything surrounding you with perfect clarity and to perceive it in the same manner and speed as a regular human perceives the view afforded by their mundane eyes? Orochimaru wondered to himself, trying to imagine just what that sort of awareness would be like. Interesting that activation of the Byakugan does not appear to inhibit the reaction speeds of the Hyuuga in the slightest, despite the vast increase in information entering the mind through the dojutsu–enhanced eyes. Indeed, it almost seems necessary that it somehow accelerates their mental processing; it must, otherwise their greater perception would not translate into the blisteringly quick reaction speeds observable in the Hyuuga clan style.


Perhaps a component of the jutsu is some sort of mental acceleration to keep the subject abreast of the expanded view?



It was far from the first time that his mind had wandered down this speculative track. Ever since Hyuuga Nagamasa had been entrusted to his tutelage, thereby giving Orochimaru plenty of opportunity to observe the secretive clan's techniques at work in field conditions, the 'Master of a Thousand Jutsu' had marveled at the Byakugan's sheer capacity. It had almost exceeded the Sharingan as far as interesting topics of study went.


Both of which are dojutsu, a subset of the kekkai genkai and perhaps the subset that most perfectly encapsulates the awe-inspiring nature of Bloodline Techniques. Their effects are beyond replication, their efficiency is off the charts…


"Lord Hokage," said the Anbu with the fox mask, the keeper of his door for the day, blurring back into visibility as he Body Flickered straight into a kneeling crouch before the desk. "Lord Jiraiya is coming up the stairs."


"Send him straight in," directed Orochimaru, wrestling his thoughts regretfully away from considerations of how he could emulate the Byakugan's detection of chakra networks and back onto the day's work. "Just leave the door open, he'll find his own way in."


True enough, Jiraiya was there only a minute or so later, dropping heavily down into the chair Uchiha Fugaku had so recently vacated.


Content to allow his old teammate to start the conversation, Orochimaru remained silent, hands folded on his desk, back ramrod straight.


Waiting until the silence pressed the words out of Jiraiya's bulk.


"...It's a good look for you," the toad summoner said a minute later, conceding the one-sided battle of wills. "The robes, I mean," he added, gesturing vaguely at Orochimaru. "The hat too, I guess. That brim is wide enough that the shadow covers up most of your scaley mug."



"Is that any way to talk to your Hokage?" sniffed Orochimaru, but didn't bother to hide his amusement at his old comrade's irreverence. "That said, the robes are admittedly quite comfortable. The hat, less so."


"Yeah, that figures…" Jiraiya muttered distractedly, absentmindedly raising a hand to his own spiky white hair as if groping for the brim of a hat which, for all that it was insubstantial, was still pressing down on his head. "Look… Orochimaru, are you sure about this? About bringing me in to manage the village's intelligence? I'm decent at running a ring of agents, great at gathering information myself, but…"


"Yes," Orochimaru firmly replied. "I am quite sure. You should have seen how much paperwork was already here waiting for me when I first stepped foot into this office this morning. If I have to suffer in the name of the village, so must you.


"And besides," he added, spreading his hands expansively, "these will be hard times, old friend. Who else has shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of what we must do to survive them?"


The earth may quake, the wind may blow, the water may rise and the cloud may fall, but the fire will burn regardless. No matter how many times I must force the village to shed its skin, we will endure and triumph.


"...Guess I gotta step up, then," Jiraiya sighed, not enthusiastic by any means, but, Orochimaru hoped, at least resolved. "Alright. I'll help you out, Orochimaru. For old times' sake, and for Konoha."


"Good," replied the Hokage. "Good. Your advice and assistance will be very helpful, both for me and for Konoha."


"...So," Jiraiya slapped his knees and forced a grin, trying to dissipate the moment's tension, "Danzo, huh? Getting rid of him's not going to be an overnight project, I know, but…"


The toad sage's grin grew a few extra teeth.


"I've got a few ideas, if you have a few extra minutes… Lord Hokage."

 

[Readhead]

(Thank you to ScarredPunLover and MetalDragon for their help brainstorming and editing.)


"If you'll do me the kindness of waiting here, Lord Hokage," the majordomo simpered, bowing extravagantly low, "His Highness will be pleased to see you very shortly. If you or your companions are in need of any refreshment…"


"Your consideration is noted," Orochimaru replied, silky voice carrying just the right amount of flattery appropriate for a highly placed servant, who pulled double-duty as the gatekeeper to the Daimyo of Fire. "As servants of his will, it would be our pleasure to wait upon His Highness's Word."


It was, of course, all nonsense, as was most diplomacy in Orochimaru's personal opinion, but it was necessary nonsense nevertheless. A bit of patronizing theater to help grease the wheels of society. Thankfully, either that necessity was not lost on his students or they simply had the wisdom to not undermine his words in front of outsiders, because all three of the genin in attendance remained dutifully stoic as the majordomo bowed his way back out of the room.


As the doors closed behind the servant, Orochimaru sauntered across the richly appointed room to claim a couch for himself, casually running his eyes across the walls as he did so, searching for any particularly obvious peepholes. That he didn't find any meant nothing; the Daimyo was certainly wealthy enough to afford halfway competent spies.


Fortunately, Orochimaru thought, gesturing at Nagamasa, who nodded and immediately began the sequence of hand signs still necessary for the trainee to activate his Byakugan, I have a trump for all but the most competent of eavesdroppers and peepers.


As the veins began to swell around Nagamasa's eyes and temples, Akimi and Anko made their way over to join their teacher, finding seats on the couch facing his from across the narrow tea table. Behind them, his four Anbu bodyguards for the day spread out across the waiting room, with two taking up positions by the room's only door, a third crouching just under the sill of the room's window, and the fourth taking up a position in the far corner where she could view the entirety of the room.


"Two spies," Nagamasa quietly signed, his hands flashing through Konoha's standard hand-talk. Orochimaru had already taught his students the Anbu variant, of course, but it was considered ill-mannered to use that particular language when not under an animal mask. "North wall and east. One's taking notes, probably a transcript."


Orochimaru nodded, and, noticing how both the Anbu and his students tensed slightly at the news that they were under observation, smiled and signed back, "As expected. Remain ready, but calm. Follow my lead. Deactivate all active jutsu."


Three nods from his students and a slight, fractional nod from the lead Anbu were all the response the Hokage needed.


All just politics, he thought to himself, lazily beckoning Nagamasa over, who dropped down onto the couch between Akimi and Anko as his veins subsided. Only two spies? Merely a token effort. Enough to show the court respects me, without offering anything truly worth consideration as a threat. Hospitality, of a sort, for only a disinterested host would refrain from prying into his guest's business.


"So," Orochimaru said, clapping his hands to secure his students' attention. "Time for some review. Akimi," he pointed at the bespectacled boy, "why are we here?"


Orochimaru could almost see the witty quip rising to Akimi's lips; he was a clever kid, and always enjoyed any chance to prove his intellectual strength, especially when he got a chance to needle his comrades. Fortunately, he was intelligent enough to realize that this was neither the time nor the place, and gulped the remark back.


"Well," the civilian-bred boy said instead, pushing his glasses up his thin nose, "Konohagakure is a sworn vassal to the Daimyo of Fire. Without his approval and recognition, you aren't officially Hokage."


The unspoken caveat was more than loud enough for everybody in the room to hear.


"...So," Akimi went on after a moment's significant pause, "you've come to officially swear your loyalty to the Fire Lord as the Yondaime Hokage, and in exchange he will confirm your right to the leadership of the village."


"Correct," Orochimaru replied, and favored his student with a slight nod. Even that small recognition was enough to make the slouching boy sit up a bit straighter on his couch.


He has the right to be proud in his answer. It was both accurate and politically sensitive enough to give our listeners nothing to hint at disloyalty or discontent. Just as I had hoped.


"Now," the Hokage continued, turning to his next student in line, "Nagamasa, this one is for you. Why does the Hokage serve the Daimyo? Why does Konohagakure not assert its independence from the Country of Fire? After all," he added, almost rhetorically, "all of the clans were independent in the days before Lord Hashirama established the village; now that we are far stronger and more numerous, why don't we break free?"


In his mind's eye, Orochimaru could just imagine the listeners stiffening just that slightest degree. After all, these were the sort of questions that nobody wanted to hear out of the mouth of any shinobi, least of all one of the Kage.


"There are several reasons," Nagamasa promptly asserted, his voice steely and formally stiff, in accordance with the etiquette of his clan. "First, there is the reason that the clans swore their loyalty to the village, during the time of the Shodai Hokage. A unit alone, detached from the broader structure of society, is vulnerable in its isolation. It is also inefficient, as an independent clan or village would be forced to either produce all that it requires within its own lands, or would be forced to acquire the materials necessary to thrive from abroad at expense.


"Much of the village's food, textiles, and stocks of workable metal are imported, for example. There is enough of each stockpiled in Konoha to prevent a siege from immediately crippling the village and inducing starvation, but without the constant flow of vital resources into the village, the great leaves of Konoha would wither on the branch.


"Second," the Hyuuga continued, "while Konohagakure is strong with its own merits, it is stronger still with the backing of the might and mass of the Land of Fire and its people. If we did not have the money and soldiers of the lesser lords and of His Highness, we would not be able to control the territory of the Land of Fire, nor would we be capable of waging war upon both Iwagakure and Kumogakure while still having a hand free to cut Kiri throats."


Nagamasa paused to share a sharp-edged smirk with his two fellows, which Akimi ignored and Anko returned with a clear promise to repay the Hyuuga's taunting reminder, that his first kill had been an Iwa nin on the field of battle while his comrades had both been blooded with the lives of Kiri raiders, with a full measure of pain during their next training spar.


Ah, the fires of youth, Orochimaru thought, almost nostalgic. But, this is not the time nor the place.


"Third," Nagamasa hurriedly resumed, correctly reading his teacher's impatience, "the village prospers greatly thanks to our oath to the royalty of the Land of Fire. We are freed from all taxes, levies, and customs duties, we are permitted free and unrestrained use of the roads and of the facilities of the official messenger stations and rest-houses, we are exempt from any code of law save our own regulations, and we enjoy first pick of all contracts offered by nobles or commoners holding land within the Land of Fire. In short, we gain the benefits of the country in exchange for leal service."


"Commendably thorough," Orochimaru dryly replied, but nodded approvingly at his second student. "Glad to see that the money Lord Hiashi paid for tutors was well-spent. Anko."


"Yeah?" came the insolent reply, to Orochimaru's complete lack of surprise.


When no immediate correction came, his favorite turned and grinned at her two comrades, flaunting the slight degree of freedom their teacher had extended her. All three knew that either of the other two taking that tone with him would have earned a swift punishment.


Now that was unwise, my apprentice, thought Orochimaru with a sigh, shaking his head. It is one thing for others to know that you are superior, another to rub their noses in it.


Some correction appears necessary.


"Ssstop sunning your scales, little one," the White Snake hissed, Manda's tongue flicking between his lips as he chided his junior summoner. "There are hawkssss about. Thissss issss no time for your petty gamesss."


"Ah!" Anko guiltily jerked, wide eyes flashing back to her teacher. "Umm… Ssssorry, Massster…" she finally got out, obviously fumbling for the lessons one of Manda's lesser spawn had taught her.


Taking pity on her, Orochimaru signed a command to return to human speech.


"Thanksss…" Anko sighed, slumping slightly, a last scrap of serpentine sibilance clinging to her tongue. "Ah… What was the question again?"


"I hadn't asked one of you yet," Orochimaru stated, "but since you asked… tell me what you know of the samurai, Anko."


"Ah, the samurai, yeah…" the girl nodded, eyes alive with interest. "Yeah, they're an interesting bunch. Basically, they've got the same chakra network as we do, but they use it different.


"Some of us," she nodded at Nagamasa, "use our chakra internally. When we use taijutsu, we strengthen our blows and coat our hands with chakra. When a Hyuuga or an Uchiha uses their dojutsu, they're also directing their chakra towards an internal target.


"But most of us," Anko leaned over so she could point past Nagamasa towards Akimi, before jumping the tip of her gesticulating finger from Anbu to Anbu, "use our chakra for external effects. Genjutsu and Ninjutsu are almost all external to our bodies like that."


"Samurai, on the other hand, keep almost all of their chakra inside themselves." Anko motioned towards her belly. "Down inside themselves, where they just cycle it through themselves over and over. They spend hours and days just sitting still, which sounds incredibly boring but means they can permanently enhance their bodies with chakra. It's a really slow process that requires a ton of focus, so it takes samurai way longer than us to gain strength, but any gain they make is permanent."


"Almost all of their chakra?" Orochimaru raised a challenging eyebrow. "Pray tell, Little Snake, what do the samurai do that is outside of their bodies?"


"They cheat," said Anko decisively. "They say that they make their swords so much a part of themselves that their chakra networks extend into the blade, so they can enhance the edge and point with chakra, but that's not true. They just coat the blade with a chakra layer, just like how Nagamasa coats his hands with chakra when he's shutting down tenketsu."


Ignoring the incredible chakra efficiency the samurai enjoy with their swords and the way that some of their best can actually align the matrix of the metal to further resonate with their own chakra…


"Broadly correct," Orochimaru announced, and gave Anko an approving nod just a shade deeper than the ones he'd given his other students. "All samurai should at minimum be considered the equivalent to a highly experienced chuunin, both in terms of strength and experience. We are fortunate that they are few in number, for they are uniformly mighty and all require a great deal of effort to kill.


"Never take on one without a plan."


Satisfied with the chorus of solemn nods from his students, Orochimaru signaled that the lesson was over and that the three could chat quietly amongst themselves. As the typical squabbling began, albeit at a lower volume than usual, the Snake Sannin closed his eyes and allowed himself just a moment to rest.


Almost before his eyes could close, though, a knock at the door signaled the return of the majordomo.


"His Highness the Daimyo of Fire is pleased to see his faithful vassal, the Kage of Konohagakure, now," came the obsequious announcement, and Orochimaru had to stifle a groan as he pried dry eyes back open. "If you would be so kind as to follow me, my lord…"

---

Much like the man himself, the actual ceremonial exchange of vows with the Daimyo was underwhelming.


Thankfully, it was all over almost before it began. Orochimaru had knelt, had uttered the formal words of submission and fealty, speaking more to the robes than to the man who wore them, and had risen as the Yondaime Hokage in the eyes of all.


Then had come the important part.


The mingling.


"Lord Orochimaru," the first courtier said, effortlessly elbowing his way through the unruly press the court descended into as soon as the herald announced that the Daimyo had retired from the hall. "Allow me to be the first to offer you some very overdue congratulations. Some among us have been waiting with great enthusiasm for this day for quite some time."


"Lord Hayasaka," the Hokage greeted, dipping his head into a brief nod. "Thank you most kindly. Leadership is not a burden to be taken on lightly, but I can assure you that I shall bear the weight honorably."


Hayasaka smirked at that, an expression that Orochimaru carefully refrained from returning. The man was known to him; indeed, he was something of an ally of Orochimaru's. For quite some time, he had been speaking out in favor of a more aggressive stance in the war, with more of Fire's revenues diverted to expand and equip the army. He was also the leading proponent of the resettlement of the former Uzushio as a new province of the Land of Fire, a policy whose good sense Orochimaru could only applaud.


No use leaving the bones for Kiri to gnaw at their leisure, after all.


As the lord turned away after another brief exchange of pleasantries, Orochimaru acceded to the curious weight of his student's eyes.


"He is an important man three times over," the Hokage signed, hands flashing behind his back as he greeted the next courtier come to offer his congratulations. "Once because of his considerable fiefdom, twice because of his considerable influence over the weavers' guilds of three different cities, and thrice because he can afford a retinue of five skilled samurai and two hundred lesser soldiers."


And, Orochimaru did not tell his students, because Hayasaka has been taking pains to drop my name and my accomplishments into the ears of the Daimyo's advisors for months, paving my road straight through the tangles of the court. I did not know if the Old Man would step down or not, but contingencies are never a waste to arrange.


After another four or five lesser hangers-on, another important personage made their presence known.


"Lord Hokage."


Turning carefully, and concealing a twist in his hands that set the silent Anbu guards lurking in the corners of the grand throne room on keen alert, Orochimaru met the gaze of the austere new arrival with a level smile.


Just as he had allies at court, such as Hayasaka, so too did he have enemies. Some of those antipathies were deeply personal, born of personal grievances escalated to points of political contention or vice versa.


Fortunately, the blade-thin man with the drooping mustaches and the narrow beard reaching for his sternum was not one of those enemies. Sakakibara Shosuke, patriarch of the Sakakibara Clan and Captain-Minor in the Army of Fire, simply held all shinobi in contempt. This was hardly surprising, considering the man's position as one of the leading samurai in the Land of Fire and a powerful landowner in his own right, to the point where the Daimyo had appointed him as shugo, constable, over considerable stretches of the northern marches on the border with Earth.


Meaning that above almost anybody else with a voice in court, Shosuke has both the material stakes and the temperment to see the war against Earth firmly prosecuted for all the damages they have done to the lands under his supervision.


Orochimaru could only imagine the samurai's reaction to his teacher's "Peace Without Rancor."


And while he might delight in dressing like a bureaucrat, sword aside, only a fool would take the 'Head-Chopper' for a mild-mannered scholar-prince.


"Captain-Minor," Orochimaru acknowledged, with a nod that verged on a shallow bow. Deeper by a degree then the nods he had given the other lords who had come to see and be seen by him. "Honor and endurance to your house. Keeping your blade sharp?"


"Care to test it, shinobi?" Shosuke's lips parted to reveal a row of surprisingly small, yellowed teeth in what could charitably be called a grin.


The almost rodent-like effect was somewhat jarring against the man's otherwise immaculately neat appearance, but Orochimaru ignored it as so much theater.


Besides, the Hokage thought, smiling to himself, what sort of snake fears a rat, no matter how sharp its teeth might be?


Still, he kept his eyes fixed on the captain-minor's own. Even the least of samurai could be incredibly dangerous foes, at least when not taken unawares. Shosuke was far from the least of that breed, and while he was unarmored at court, the sword that was his badge of office remained at his hip. A ceremonial weapon it may be, but Orochimaru was well aware that a samurai of Lord Shosuke's caliber would never deign to strap a purely decorative weapon to his belt.


"You know me, Lord Shosuke," Orochimaru replied, returning the samurai's grin with one of his own that left his fangs, a side-effect of the summoning contract he had tattooed onto his forearms for ready access, bared. "When we were both holding the line against Iwa, did I ever decline our gracious guests' invitation to dance?"


Around them, the crowd murmured at the comment, and Shosuke's lips tightened at the response. Still, he had to give ground in the face of the, at least apparently, reconciliatory comment.


Of all the two hundred or so courtiers and attendents gathered here, perhaps only ten people in attendance actually risked our own skins in the war, not including my students or my Anbu. And so only we would know that Shosuke argued in favor of a tactical retreat in the face of Earth's last offensive, before Minato broke their spines and made him look like an overly-cautious fool in hindsight.


"You did not," the samurai acknowledged, and every word emerged reluctantly from between his jaws, like snakes pulled from their burrows with tongs and hooks. "All know of the contributions of the White Snake. So many soldiers from Lightning found in their beds with throats crushed, so many surprising instances of Earth or their Stone allies finding their water supplies befouled or their rations poisoned… Work well worthy of a shinobi."


"I'm honored you think so, Captain-Minor," Orochimaru lightly, almost graciously, replied. "But I can hardly claim all the credit for the hard work of my fellow Leaf-nin; not even the greatest serpent, after all, could envenom an entire battalion in a single night! But, many hands make for very light work."


It was uncomfortable saying as much; admitting that sort of limitation went against Orochimaru's own natural proclivity to maximize his own profile in the eyes of others.


But I am the Hokage now, and representative of all of the village, he reminded himself. Maximizing the individual in that capacity is absurd, especially when maximizing the reputation of Konoha's general capacities could improve our standing in the eyes of magnates and lords, leading to higher commissions when it comes time for new contracts.


Besides, Orochimaru thought, more than a bit smugly, I only had Anko's help for that bit of work, and since she's essentially just an extension of me, I could claim responsibility for the mass poisoning of the Saroma Village garrison if I so chose. But why would I want to when I can tweak Shosuke's nose instead?


"As you say," Shosuke replied, just a touch woodenly, and then shifted topics. "Tell me, Lord Hokage… Do you mean to follow in your predecessor's, in your teacher's, footsteps?"


And suddenly every ear is bent our way, Orochimaru thought, suppressing a chuckle at the sudden silence filling the hall. Now, I know what he means, and he knows that I'm not unaware… But let's make him be the one to broach the topic.


"My teacher, the Sandaime Hokage, is a wise man and a great leader, with a long and distinguished career," said Orochimaru, wearing an expression of earnest humility. "As such, he left quite a few footprints to follow throughout his long years as Konohagakure's head… Perhaps you could be more specific, Captain-Minor?"


To Orochimaru's delight, Shosuke's already pinched features somehow gained an additional air of constipated frustration.


"Most certainly, Lord Hokage," came the testy reply. "The war. Tell me, are you, Orochimaru the great Snake Sannin, one of very few to fight Hanzo of the Salamander blow for blow, veteran of two great wars and innumerable skirmishes, willing to settle for a peace without rancor and without victory? Have your ambitions softened into your teacher's contentment with your assumption of his office?


"Will there be war now, or war again in another decade?"


…Does he really not know? Orochimaru thought wonderingly, searching the samurai's stony features for any hint of a trap. Does he not know about the Hyuuga Incident? Is the news truly so slow to spread?


Are the Fire Lords truly so lax that they haven't inserted spies into Konoha's civilian population? Or is this just typical samurai contempt for the affairs of their lessers, meaning the rest of the world, biting Shosuke in the back?


If so… Then thank you, my Lord Captain-Minor, for the splendid opportunity. I could not have asked for a better opener.


"Almost a month ago," said the Hokage, pitching his voice to slither through the still air and shadows of the vast throneroom of the Fire Daimyo, "envoys of humbled Iwagakure came to my predecessor's gate to seek peace. In the spirit of his renowned compassion, the Sandaime Hokage gave them peace, and concluded that the war against Iwa was over.


"And why shouldn't he have concluded as much?" Orochimaru paused, letting the question linger. "He had forgiven them their initial attack. He had forgiven them their despoiling of our northern provinces. He had forgiven them the cross-border raids before the war.


"My predecessor, in his mercy, thought that he had found a peace at last."


As soon as the first mutterings began to disrupt the stillness of his pause, Orochimaru resumed his speech, wrapping the errant whispers in coils and crushing them into nothing.


"Emboldened, Kumogakure came, hat in hand, to beg for peace before our gate! No lesser than Yoshitaki, second only to the Raikage himself, came to swear Kumo's bond to the peace. And so, just as with Iwa's envoys, the Sandaime Hokage offered guesthood to the Head Ninja and his retinue below the auspices of the spreading Leaf."


As he described the hospitality offered, Orochimaru spread his own arms over his head, shaking back the voluminous white sleeves of his official robes to reveal his bared arms, tattoos black and livid red against his opalescent arms, the skin the same color as Manda's scales.


"Yet Kumogakure did not come to negotiate peace," the Hokage revealed, anger flaring in his voice like a cobra's hood, fraught with menace and threat. "Yoshitaki did not come in good faith, nor did he come as a guest! He came as a thief and a bandit, without truth on his tongue or honor within his hands!


"He snuck past honor guards and invaded the home of no less than Hyuuga Hiashi under cover of night, violating the hospitality he had been so freely offered and making my predecessor a liar by offering harm to a clan of Konoha while under his protection! And harm Yoshitaki offered, for he did not come to assassinate Hiashi or pillage his treasury, but instead he came for his dearest treasure: His newborn, still in swaddling clothes in her crib!"


This time, Orochimaru allowed the swelling anger of the crowd to take voice, for the roiling shock to froth into scattered shouts of outrage.


"But!" the Hokage interrupted, holding up a quelling hand, "keen are the eyes of the Hyuuga, and deadly are their wrath! No less than Hyuuga Hiashi himself hunted down Yoshitaki. Lord Hiashi cleaned himself of the besmirching dishonor of the thieves of Kumo with nothing other than Yoshitaki's lifeblood! He returned to his clan's compound with his heiress in his arms!"


Scattered cheers and applause rose, but the crowd was still keen, still eager, following Shosuke's cue to remain silent and intent, aware that Orochimaru had not yet answered the question.


"That very night, only five sleeps ago," Orochimaru announced, "the Sandaime Hokage issued his penultimate command to his village, ordering the immediate execution of all of Yoshitaki's companions! His last order, issued the following morning, was that I was designated as his successor, at which point he resigned from his office, leaving Konohagakure's future in my hands, and in the hands of His Highness the Daimyo."


Almost forgot to throw that sop in, Orochimaru chided himself. Sloppy, sloppy.


"Two mornings ago," the Hokage continued, "I dispatched a mission to the front lines near the border with Kumogakure. This mission, two platoons led by Jonin Namikaze, the Yellow Flash himself, and including no less than three Hyuuga clansmen, did not go to avail themselves of Kumogakure's hospitality, nor did they go to bandy words with that crew of oathbreakers and abductors. Instead, they went only to deliver nine wooden boxes, each three hands by three by three.


"Let it not therefore be said that Konohagakure does not return its guests home in a befitting manner, nor that the Leaf is slow to avenge our honor. Lord Shosuke," said Orochimaru, dropping his arms and locking eyes with the samurai general again, "I forced the copy of the treaty Yoshitaki signed between his jaws myself, but before I did so, I blotted away Konohagakure's mark, lest faithless blood stain our name. It shall be war, Captain-Minor, at least with Lightning and Cloud."


"Good," Sakakibara Shosuke spat, jerking his head in a spasm of a nod as the courtiers cheered. "then Iwa will join, when Kumo calls upon their alliance. They will have no other choice, not if they wish to retain their reputation.


"Too many escaped the Yellow Flash in the rout. My honor is not clean yet, nor shall it be until every man of Earth and Stone who set foot upon my constabulary offers their blood in apology to the land they befouled."


"Then war it shall be," agreed Orochimaru, repeating his own words as he extended an arm to the samurai. "Konohagakure always stands ready to assist the Land of Fire in its efforts."


"The Army of Fire shall welcome the guile and poisoned blades of the Leaf," confirmed Captain-Minor Sakakibara, grasping Orochimaru's forearm in reply. "On this, we shall stand united."


And then when the peace comes, Orochimaru clearly read in Shosuke's eyes as his own fingers closed around the samurai's arm, confirming the pact in the eyes of the court, we shall go back to trying to plant our knives in one another's backs.


But until then…


"May your sword find you worthy enemies, samurai."


"And may you find your enemies sleeping, shinobi."

---

"Quite the show you put on out there."


"One tries," Orochimaru replied with poorly feigned modesty, accepting the proffered cup of tea from Suna's envoy to the court of the Fire Daimyo.


He could have done a better job concealing his pleasure at the compliment, backhanded though it was, but Orochimaru knew that Lui, the Suna jonin, wouldn't have been put off by the display. Not for nothing was she called "the Sandhawk" in captured Iwa bingo books.


But if I didn't at least make an attempt, the implication that I cared little for her and Suna's opinion would have been obvious.


Orochimaru lifted the cup served by the poisoner's hand and took a long slurp, heedless of the steam.


Ah, delicious tea. Every cup a statement of intent, and every sip a gesture of faith in Suna's commitment to our alliance.


Across the low table from the Hokage, empty save for the samovar, Lui lifted her cup to her lips and took a much smaller sip, sealing the implicit offer of guest-right she had extended with the tea in the act of reciprocity.


A flower with lurking thorns, that token of friendship, considering that single steaming cup contained sufficient poison to kill any three shinobi Orochimaru cared to name.


Now, when was it that she poisoned the tea? Orochimaru wondered. She certainly poured both of our cups from the same pot, so perhaps painted the inside of mine with a water-soluble toxin… Though that could have been risky, had I insisted on swapping cups… Unless she took an antidote before I arrived?


It was difficult to not spiral into paranoia around the people Hidden in Sand. While they were generally reckoned second to Konoha in all things, the great exceptions were poison and puppetry, of which Suna's masteries were world-renowned. Nobody could manipulate the limbs of another quite like a Suna puppeteer, and all of the most exotic toxins came from the Land of Wind.


Not for nothing was Sunagakure disparaged as the "Village of Spiders".


Of course, Orochimaru himself would be a poor "White Snake of Konoha" if any poison, be it ever so refined, could fell him with a sip.


"I must compliment you on your blend," the Hokage said, speaking with an air of experience only a true Mithridate could command. "This cup has an edge of refinement almost as well honed as your own. Do I taste… belladonna, perhaps?"


"Of course you do, yeah!" the jonin confirmed with a chuckling laugh that carried just the echo of a hawk's screech. "I find they add quite a pleasant aftertaste, you know. A shame so few would live to appreciate it, yeah?"


"A tragedy indeed," Orochimaru agreed, and allowed himself a single, theatrically gusty, sigh, shaking his head as if in disappointment with the tasteless fragility of the masses. From across the table, Lui chuckled again, the two poison masters sharing a private joke that only members of a select brotherhood could fully enjoy. "Few of my colleagues," the White Snake added, "are as appreciative of the refined art."


"More's the pity, yeah," Lui shrugged, resigned. "Though with you in charge… maybe the winds'll change beneath our wings."


"...Perhaps they will," Orochimaru thoughtfully replied, mind already turning back to his own current student.


Anko will be a poison mistress in her own right within the decade, if she doesn't choke on her damned dango before then. She might even be rightfully a master before the war ends, depending on just how deep Kumo digs in its heels.


That was not a reassuring thought, considering how stringent Orochimaru's own standards of 'mastery' were.


Just how long would it take…?


"To business," Orochimaru said, setting his cup, and his thoughts, aside. "Much as I compliment you on your selection of tea, Sandhawk, I am certain you didn't request a moment of my time merely to enjoy a quiet cup."


"Right, right," the Sand jonin agreed, setting her own cup aside. "Nothing gets past you, eh?"


Unsure if that had been a joke or merely a statement of the obvious, the Hokage simply waited, smiling patiently as the Sand envoy shifted on her cushion.


"Alright," Lui sighed, rubbing at her headscarf. The dun bandana almost covered up her dusty pink hair entirely, but a few errant bangs had escaped the cloth's confines. They and her blue eyes were the only splashes of color in a form otherwise swaddled in mottled shades of gray and tan. "So, your speech back in the throne room kinda answered the most important question for me right off the mark. War's still happening, yeah?"


"Indeed," Orochimaru confirmed, and then took another sip of tea. Business or not, it would be a shame to waste such a flavorful cup. "Kumo's made any other course unthinkable, so it will be war with them and probably Kiri, at the very least. Iwa is still questionable."


"You think they'd bow out if Kumo came calling?" queried Lui, her raptor-slitted pupils fixed on Orochimaru.


Like most long-term summoners, some of her secondary characteristics had warped to reflect her contracted animal.


I wonder if the eyes are as far as it goes? If anybody could replicate the Land of Sky's technique for chakra-powered flight, it could be the Sandhawk… She's as famous for her Wind mastery as she is for her summons…


"I think that the Yellow Flash inflicted absolutely devastating damage on the Earth forces only a month and a half ago," the Hokage replied, contemplatively running a finger around the rim of his cup. "Of course they want revenge, but Onoki didn't accept my predecessor's offer of peace on a lark. I doubt Iwagakure is in any reasonable shape to rejoin hostilities."


"Which, of course, leaves the way open for the unreasonable, mmm." Lui nodded solemnly, his meaning not lost on the veteran. "They could see it as their last chance," she noted. "If Kumo goes to war without them and gets crushed, they'll be all alone with your village and mine. They might be thinking that we can't be in much better shape than they are."


"I don't think Onoki's quite that stupid," Orochimaru snorted. "His advisors might delude themselves, but he's never had any difficulty seeing over that warty nose of his. But, if he was afraid of being left on his own, well… He always was a bit of a gambler."


"...So," Lui slapped her thighs, disrupting the brief, reflective silence, "Iwagakure will either be getting involved once you move on Kumo, or it could just continue to threaten involvement and act as a pressure on your supply lines. Either way, you'll be needing someone to keep an eye on them, yeah?"


"That's right," the Hokage agreed, feeling the air shift as the bargaining began. "Suna's been enjoying that subsidy on grain prices, haven't you? Naturally, we would continue to extend the wartime prices for our prized allies in the Sand. And we'd continue to ignore the Wind Daimyo's attempts to contract Konoha shinobi to fill contracts that really should be Suna's, of course," he added generously.


"That's pretty good," Lui nodded, eyes narrowing, "but not quite good enough. We want Birds."


"Birds?" Orochimaru quirked an eyebrow at that. The Land of Birds was one of the small countries that scattered the borders of the Great Countries. Birds had the misfortune to be stuck squarely between the Land of Wind and the Land of Earth, just like how the Land of Rivers was wedged firmly between the Land of Wind and the Land of Fire. While the Land of Birds hosted a hidden village just like the Land of Rivers, neither had sufficient pull to stand outside of the orbits of the Great Villages. "Why do you want Birds? There's nothing about that country that makes it worthwhile."


"Its location, probably," Lui shrugged, clearly ambivalent about her superiors' demand. "It would be nice to have a buffer between us and Earth, I guess. Besides, they're gonna be paying protection to someone, so it might as well be us instead of Iwa. All those temples must've something valuable in them, yeah?"



"Hmm…" Orochimaru rolled the idea over in his mind and narrowed his eyes at the Suna jonin, whose pointed face gave nothing away. He felt as if he was missing something in this demand, some meat within a hidden crook of the shell, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what that overlooked morsel could be.


Perhaps the better question is, do I care?


"...Very well. If the Kazekage wants dominion over the Country of Birds, I won't stand in his way," agreed Orochimaru after the silence of his pause began to echo in the small guesthouse, punctuating his decision with a lazy shrug, "Perhaps he would see fit to advance his defense perimeter into his new dependency now, before Iwa finds its feet again? If he could also expand his defense perimeter to cover the zones in northern Rain Country and the westernmost parts of Fire's frontier, that would be even better."


Which would mean that I could pull Konoha out of those zones and send everybody old enough to grow stubble east to Kumo, while everybody else can be cycled back to Konoha, fulfilling my promise to the clanheads and giving the village a chance to preserve our youth for the next war.


"...Deal," the Sandhawk nodded, and, picking up her cup, lifted it in a salute and then drained her dregs. "Bitter."


"Hopefully you didn't just curse our pact," Orochimaru teased, mimicking her gesture. "But, Lui, while I'm here, I also wanted to work out another deal with Suna. Do you have another moment?"


"...Depends," the Suna jonin equivocated. "Should I brew up more tea?"


"It would be a pleassure," the Hokage grinned, allowing Manda's tongue to slip a bit further than usual from between his fangs, "far be it from me to deny myself another sssinfully sssweet cup."


"Keep talking," Lui directed as she lowered her head to the samovar's burner. Orochimaru saw a flash of moving fingers before the Suna kunoichi exhaled a burning cloud. "Let me just get a bit more water…"


Fire aerosolized with air? Orochimaru wondered, distracted by the Sandhawk's technique. But what would the incendiary medium be to hold and retain the heat as it traveled? And that was definitely an abbreviated hand seal series, so combined with the lack of verbalization, it must be a signature jutsu of hers… Which means she probably won't willingly share it.


A pity.


"To put it simply," the Snake Sannin said, talking as he continued to think about the unknown jutsu, "I propose something of an exchange of skills between our villages."


"Ah, uh huh." Lui bobbed her head, a distinctly avian motion. "Risky ground, that. Step carefully, snake."


"Surely you mean slither?" Orochimaru asked, utterly straightfaced, only smirking when Lui looked mildly confused. The shoe on the other foot, he went on, "But yes, I understand the unwillingness to share secrets. I also fully understand that you will have to check back up the chain before agreeing to anything.


"But consider how we could both profit from a comparatively simple exchange? Say… advice from a fuuinjutsu master regarding the maintenance and upkeep of a jinchuriki seal, paid for with the expert assistance of a team of Suna alchemists in getting a small chemical refinery up and running? Not enough to compete with the Land of Wind's own refineries, of course, but enough for a few… bespoke batches, shall we say?


"How would that sound, oh Sandhawk?"

 

[Readhead]

Alright, let's address the chronology questions.


First, I'm going to say that this entire matter is complicated by Kishimoto's approach to world-building, which is lacking in things like hard and fast dates and measurements. This is understandable, seeing how the guy wanted to write a manga, not Malazan Book of the Fallen, but it does complicate matters, as does his tendency to rewrite various bits of backstory to incorporate new character twists.


As such, I'm taking a page from Kishimoto's book and prioritizing the course of the story I wish to write over the canon flow of events where the two collide.


I have also been using this post on Narutopedia to provide a rough idea about a plausible past timeline, but again, only as a suggestion.


The flow of events for my story:


15 years ago: The Second Shinobi War Begins, with Konoha, Suna, and Iwa as primary belligerents.

14 years ago: The Sannin of Konoha earn their title after surviving a battle against Hanzo of the Salamander, Warlord of Ame. Kato Dan, lover of Tsunade, dies in combat. Jiraiya arranges a "long-term information gathering" mission and begins training the Ame Orphans.

13 years ago: Senju Nawaki dies in battle at age 12.

12 years ago: Jiraiya returns to Konoha towards the end of the year and is immediately given a genin team to teach. On this team is Namikaze Minato.

11 years ago: The Second Shinobi War ends without a conclusive military victory. A negotiated settlement between the three main belligerents mostly restores the pre-war status quo, with Iwa paying a minor restitution to Konoha and Suna recognizing Konoha's suzerainty over the Land of Rivers. These are both paltry concessions, considering the blood spilled on all sides, but the slap to the face to Iwa guarantees a future war while Suna abandoning attempts to assert influence abroad fatally undermines the village in the eyes of the Daimyo of Wind Country. While Konoha is distracted by the war, a raiding party from Kumo successfully kidnaps Uzumaki Kushina. Namikaze Minato successfully tracks down and kills the Kumo snatch team and rescues Kushina.

9 years ago: The Nine-Tails is sealed in Uzumaki Kushina after Uzumaki Mito's health begins to fail, resulting in the death of the latter.

7 years ago: Uchiha Itachi is born.

5 years ago: The failure of the rice crop across the land prompts a spike in banditry and cross-border raids organized by the countries and by their hidden villages. A pattern of raiding and counter-raiding inflames tensions between the various nations. Iwa, by now almost restored to their pre-war strength, offers Kumo an alliance. Alarmed by this development, Konoha reaches out to Suna, eager to protect their western flank should the Iwa-Kumo alliance attack from the north and east. Already a net food importer, Suna and the broader state of Wind are the hardest hit by the crop failure and eager to accept Konoha's offer, particularly when Konoha offers to sell food to them at a greatly discounted rate.

4 years ago: The economic shocks from the bad harvest and the cross-border tension ripple into Kirigakure. The islands, already rigidly stratified and highly paranoid, do not respond well. As poverty rises and the number of contracts available diminish, bouts of civil unrest wrack the Mist. Determined to maintain control, the Mizukage doubles down on the 'Bloody Mist' policies domestically while also unleashing his underemployed forces in a massive raid on Uzushio. The Whirlpool is ruthlessly sacked, looted down to the bedrock, and its surviving ninja and civilians are both sold into slavery by the Mist. Neither the Sandaime Hokage nor Danzo are interested in intervening in Uzushio, each for their own reasons, and so officially Konoha takes no action in response to the destruction of its ally. Unofficially, a standing bounty on all Kiri nin is added to most bingo books distributed by Konoha.

3 years ago: Iwa initiates a massive surprise attack and catches Konoha napping. Due to erroneous early assumptions that this was just another border raid, Konoha is slow to mobilize, giving Iwa nin backed by Earth soldiers and samurai dispatched by their daimyo time to pour down from the mountains and into Konoha's northern frontier. Kumo promptly joins in before Iwa even invokes their alliance. Konoha calls upon Suna's help and also demands a draft of ninja from their protectorate in Tanigakure. Kirigakure opportunistically jumps into the fray as well and conducts raids across the ravaged land formerly belonging to Whirlpool to raid Konoha's eastern border. Minato and Kushina are married. Team Minato is inaugerated.

2 years ago: Orochimaru is assigned a genin team, and after an initial training period, leads them into battle on the Eastern Front against Kumo and against raiders from Kiri.

1 year ago: Tsunade abandons Konoha, taking Shizune with her. Hyuuga Neji is born. The Battle of Kannabi Bridge marks the inflection point as Iwa's faltering advance is halted and driven back. Uchiha Obito dies in battle, while Hatake Kakashi is injured. Nohara Rin is lost in the confusion of the battle and falls into the hands of a group of mercenary Kiri nin under Kumo's pay and fighting on the side of Iwa. Sasori of the Red Sand secretly abducts and kills the Sandaime Kazekage, leading to the abrupt rise of Rasa of the Gold Dust to the Kazekage's throne. The new Yondaime Kazekage reaffirms Suna's alliance with Konoha.

6 months ago: Iwa mounts another offensive to recapture the ground lost in the wake of Kannabi Bridge. Namikaze Minato leads a brilliant counter-offensive and personally slaughters the Iwa vanguard, breaking the Earth army's morale. In the ensuing rout, Iwa and their non-ninja comrades sustain devastating losses, effectively breaking Iwa's power. Hatake Kakashi is re-assigned from the front to serve as Kushina's personal bodyguard throughout the duration of her pregancy.

4 months ago: Hyuuga Hinata is born.

2 months ago: Uchiha Sasuke is born.

1 month ago: The Sandaime Hokage's efforts to bring the Third Shinobi War to a peaceful conclusion begin to yield fruit when Iwa and Kumo both agree to send peace envoys to Konoha.

3 weeks ago: The Iwa envoy arrives. Iwa and Konoha agree to the "Peace Without Rancor", a treaty admitting Iwa's responsiblilty in starting the war but forgiving them the need to pay reparations. Within Konoha, this agreement is seen as a near betrayal of the village and prompts consternation from both ranking ninja and influential courtiers at the Fire Daimyo's court. Abroad, Suna is also surprised and offended by this treaty, as they had hoped to leverage a victory against Iwa into control over the bordering Stone Country and its hidden village, Ishigakure.

2 weeks ago: The Kumo envoy Yoshitaki, second in command to the Raikage, arrives and successfully appends his village's signature to the "Peace Without Rancor", securing a freedom from indemnities or reparations.

1 week ago: Yoshitaki executes Kumo's true objective in participating in the peace negotiations and attempts to abduct Hyuuga Hinata. Hyuuga Hiashi kills Yoshitaki, and as one of his last orders in office, the Sandaime Hokage orders the execution of the rest of the Kumo nin who had accompanied Yoshitaki to Konoha.


Subject to change, this is the chronology I have worked out for the story so far.

 

[Readhead]

(It should perhaps come as no great surprise that my chapter mushroomed in size just a bit. Thank you to ScarredPunLover, MetalDragon, Sunny, and KoreanWriter for their help brainstorming and editing.)



In moments like these, when the enemy and his schedule afforded him the chance to stand some place high and gaze out over a battlefield, Orochimaru always returned to Ame.



The Land of Rain, that dreadfully well named place, had seemed to Orochimaru like the great settling pond into which all the world's mud and misery drained, all under an eternally cloud-choke sky. The discharge of two great rivers flowed into that land, saturated its already spongy soil, and sat, just sat, at the intersection of Earth, Sand, and Fire.



Sat, and rotted.



In Orochimaru's eyes, the battlefields around Amegakure had been the doorway to a drowning hell he could never have imagined. The endless sleeting rain and the boiling heat of fire fused into an unholy mixture of heat and humidity that sapped away the soul's very will to live. The mosquitos and leaches, multiplying by the tens of thousands in the fetid bottomland, could drink a man pale and bloodless, while the razored leaves of the grass and reeds could flay him to the bone.



Not that much of that lush greenery remained in Ame. He had been there to see it wither and curl in fire and dessicate as water jutsu ripped moisture from the very air.



He had been there to see it all.



By the time the Second Great Ninja War began, Orochimaru had worn the Leaf upon his brow for eighteen years, had been in active service to Konoha since the age of six. Nothing he had seen or done in those almost two decades of service to the Leaf had prepared him for the unmitigated disaster that was those early days in the war, when hundreds of ninja from three Great Villages and half a dozen lessers had clashed, each backed by armies numbering in the thousands. Above all else, it had been the scale that had undone him; he had killed, he had burned, he had engaged in cross-border raiding and assassinated great lords and mighty criminals, but he had never witnessed hundreds of jutsu hurled every minute across carpets of the dead.



He had fought the ninja of Taki, of Suna, and of Iwa, as well as the few remaining clans holding aloof from the Hidden Village system, but even in the most frantic of those fights, even in the worst of the raids, when ten to twenty nin on either side closed to dance their poisoned daggers against their counterparts, there had always been something of order to it, something of an unspoken code.



There had been rules, back then, back before the War. A way things were done. Oftentimes, those raids had ended with only a handful of deaths or injuries spread across the two sides; sometimes, the fighting was limited only to an almost ceremonial exchange of projectiles, before the one side or the other would give way, honor assuaged.



The Second Great Ninja War had been no place for such half-measures, had possessed no time for honor. From the moment that the Sandaime Hokage, the man who had taught him all there was to know about being a shinobi, had ordered Orochimaru and his comrades across the border of Ame as part of a flanking maneuver to strike the Iwa army pouring into the Land of Grass, the entire war had been nothing but disaster, mitigated only by the technical victory Konoha had eked out in the end.



What Orochimaru was looking out over was not Ame, not that forever wet place where nothing but mud and muckweed could prosper. Instead, he was looking out from a hilltop observation post over the Land of Hot Water, or at least the twenty-mile wide Mutosi Valley, whose winding Mutosi River marked the border between Hot Water and Fire.



The view could have been a window back into an Ame fourteen years past. It looked, to Orochimaru's venom-yellow eyes, just about the same.



Once heavily forested, almost a year as the front line of the war between Kumo and Konohagakure reduced the greenery to isolated pockets of bedraggled sickly-looking trees and lone stragglers surrounded by the splintered remnants of their groves. Likewise, the forest loam, dark and rich, had been churned into a thick, sucking muck in which no prospective saplings could set down roots. A mirror, Orochimaru knew, to another battlefield five miles southwest of his current position, back in the Land of Fire. That wasteland marked the deepest thrust the main trunk of the Land of Lightning's army, and which remained, two years later, littered with rusting armor and discarded weapons, pitiful memorials for the soldiers who had rotted away into nothing there, bereft of pyre or grave.



That other wound in the land would never fully heal; it would only scar over, just as the battlefields of the Second Great War had only scarred over. The land itself had been injured, no less so than the Land of Fire that claimed it. Here too, Orochimaru could see the first contours of the scar-to-be. Most readily apparent was the shift in the course of the Mutosi River, its bed shattered by the jutsu that had forced unnatural shape and form onto the clay of its banks and into its own flowing waters.



But that was far from the extent of the scars the land bore.



Streaking across the land in jagged lines, Orochimaru picked out the fortifications turned mass graves, when the jutsu-manipulated soil had flowed like water back into the excavated trenches only to harden into stone around the conscripted levies trapped within as all of the water was abruptly withdrawn from the soil.



He saw the black tarry splotches in the mud, where plasma had streaked down from the sky to incinerate some unlucky target as well as the very air and ground he had stood upon, or perhaps where a touch-activated explosion tag had slagged an unwary leg and flash-broiled the dirt.



Across the broad valley, a tentative silence prevailed. It was far from a complete silence; the headquarters camp at his back was a bustle of noise as soldiers drilled, smiths repaired bent armor and ground new edges onto swords and kunai, and draft animals stomped and snorted against the sticky wet autumn cold. Ahead of him, the trenches full of crouching conscripts reinforced by the occasional samurai and their retainers like steel bars in concrete also hummed with activity, though at a much lower volume.



Nobody wanted to draw attention to themselves and call down the lightning onto their heads.



The wind shifted and, like an old friend, the familiar smell rose to greet him.



Sweet and stinking, the smell of the dead in their thousands rose to meet Orochimaru's nostrils; his tongue flicked out idly to sample the taste, and found it unexceptional.



Thankfully the autumn has already begun; it must have been unbearable a few weeks ago, while the summer still lingered.



Casting a sidelong glance, Orochimaru was just in time to catch Anko pulling a face, before she hurriedly rearranged her features back into the typical stoicism befitting a kunoichi. Had they been alone, Orochimaru would have chided her for her lack of control; after all, this was far from the first time his students had followed him onto a battlefield.



Pausing at that thought, Orochimaru took another taste of the fetid air, rolling it across his tongue. It was just as foul as he remembered, but hardly unendurable.



…Perhaps that has less to do with how bad the air is and more to do with how much time I have spent cooped up in formaldehyde-stinking laboratories over the last year.



Perhaps I won't chide Anko later on after all.



"Well done, Captain-Major," the Hokage said, turning to his other side, and the man there, more because he keenly felt the obligation to say something, and commenting on the stench was both unhelpful and merely pointing out the obvious. "You and your forces have done a splendid job, driving the Cloud back across the Mutosi and out of Fire's lands."



A polite murmur of agreement rose from the gathered aristocrats, ninja, and samurai officers, most of whom were prudent enough to stand well back from the crest of the hill. Some had accompanied Orochimaru on this trip to Eastern Headquarters, while others had joined Captain-Major Oyama Daisuke in giving the visiting dignitary a "tour of the Front."



As if glancing over the field itself from the tops of a few hills would give even the slightest insight into the mired trees and drowned meat down at the foot of these hills with their commanding vistas.



"Thank you, Lord Hokage," replied Captain-Major Oyama, bowing low from the waist, showing perhaps a bit more deference than was strictly proper for a man of his rank and authority. Perhaps the correct amount of deference for a man planning to prevail upon his visitor for support back at court, or perhaps the deployment of another battalion of ninja straight from Konoha to give some new offense a few extra teeth. "We are honored by your kindness."



"And all of the Land of Fire is honored by the tenacity of her defenders," the Hokage replied without missing a beat. All trite nothings, but of the sort a man in his position was expected to say. "But, now that I have seen the battlefield, let us reconvene in your headquarters tent, Captain-Major Oyama, and plan the next thrust against the Kumo oathbreakers."



As the last few formalities of the "tour" concluded and Oyama left with his retinue, heading back down the hill, his next appointment approached.



"Team Orochimaru," Orochimaru said to his private stock of cannon fodder, also known as his genin team, "go find some way to make yourselves useful for the next few hours. We will reconvene for supper, at which point I will be expecting reports. Show up late or without anything to report and I'll disavow you."



"Yes, Teacher," came the dull chorus from Akimi and Nagamasa, along with the decidedly more enthusiastic "You betcha!" from Anko, predictably.



By the time the small knot of men and women wearing Konoha hitai-ate had crouched into bows at the Hokage's feet, the hillside was clear of any potential eavesdroppers, either overly curious genin or malingering soldiers. Orochimaru's orders and the ring of quietly menacing Anbu were more than enough to carve out some privacy for the Hokage, and for his Jonin Commander.



At the center of the bowed arc knelt a shinobi literally cloaked in obscurity, distant and aloof even by the standards of their clandestine profession. A large, body-swallowing coat in green and black concealed much of his form, with a tall collar and drawn up hood concealing most of what remained, leaving only his hands visible to observers. In the depths of his shadowy hood, the reflective lenses of a pair of glasses glimmered like a beetle's carapace.



Much was made of the tendency common to all of this man's kinsfolk to hide themselves away behind thick layers and lenses. Some believed it was a display of hubris, an attempt to set the swaddled forms above the rest of the village in their aloofness. Others opined that it was an expression of agoraphobia, joking that of course beetles needed shells to scuttle beneath in the bright light of day. Some hypothesized that it was all just in service of aesthetics, and that the Aburame simply delighted in making themselves mysterious.



Unlike all of those fools, Orochimaru knew that the self-assigned uniform of the Aburame clan was less of a fashion statement and more a safety precaution, worn for the sake of their teammates.



"Lord Yondaime," greeted Aburame Shikuro, acknowledging his new lord from where he knelt on the muddy hill, gazing up at Orochimaru from behind the smoked mirrors of his sunglasses. "Jonin Namikaze brought word of your ascension when he came through on the way to his… errand. Congratulations, and welcome to Eastern Headquarters."



Well, an errand is quite the mild way to characterize a declaration of the resumption of hostilities, but considering how Minato was essentially just making a delivery, not an inaccurate one.



"How good of him," Orochimaru replied, and gestured for the Jonin Commander and his officers to rise. "Any reaction yet from Kumo? Any… reply? Everything here ssseemsss rather… quiet."



To any veteran worth their salt, be the soldier, shinobi, or samurai, there were few things more unnerving than quiet in a warzone.



"Locally, very little has happened," confirmed Shikuro, knocking the mud from his hands. "Just the usual raiding and infiltration attempts, about on the same tempo as before."



Orochimaru nodded, accepting the report, with all of its desperation and death swept away under the banal description of "the usual."



In his time, he had fought against the ninja of six other villages, including all four of the other Great Villages. He knew exactly what passed for "the usual" in such times and against such enemies.



"What about reconnaissance?" Orochimaru pressed. "How far out are you running the patrols, Shikuro?"



"Five miles for the nightly infiltrations," said the Jonin Commander. "All the way up to the walls of Kumo's current headquarters, an onsen town called Asoko. Sometimes our teams even manage to intercept a courier. Occasionally, I'll send a squad further into Hot Springs to see what Lightning is up to behind the front lines.



"Here," the Aburame pulled out a scroll from his voluminous coat which Orochimaru accepted, "the latest map from the Analysis Unit here at Eastern Headquarters. Current as of two nights ago."



Ah yes, thought Orochimaru, untying the string holding the scroll closed and deftly disarming the seal that would incinerate the map and the map's holder if they were fool enough to handle the thing with insufficient wariness, the Analysis Unit, your old stomping grounds. Right, Shikuro?



While Konoha primarily dealt in steel, fire, and skilled personnel with immense capacity for the precise application of both or either, the Village Hidden in the Leaves also had a thriving secondary role as a sort of information clearinghouse. All across the Lands of Fire, Grass, Waterfalls, Tea, Sea, and Rice Fields, wealthy men from all social backgrounds paid handsomely for information. Merchants paid for information on market conditions in distant lands or for details on road conditions and bandit activity along major trade routes. Criminals paid for the secrets of rivals and allies alike, keen for leverage or sniffing for vulnerability. Nobles paid for the hidden details of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, shopping around for partners in marriage and alliance.



All of these requests and more passed over the Hokage's desk for approval, and regardless of whether or not the contract was accepted, the details were conveyed to the Intelligence Division for cataloging, processing, and execution. If the contract was accepted, or if the request had raised the interest or wariness of the Hokage, missions would be issued to teams of specialists from the active divisions, such as hunter-nin teams and spymasters with far flung agents. Once those active divisions returned with information in hand or with potential sources in need of further processing by the Torture and Interrogation Unit, their take would pass into the hands of the so-called "inactive divisions," named as such by their more field-based brethren.



These ninja, who admittedly tended towards a more sedentary disposition, worked in offices with tightly sealed doors and vague names like "Applied Codes" or "Strategic Reconnaissance." Each of these siloed groups tended to focus on analysis of their particular speciality, ranging from cartography to sociology to cryptography, and would prepare reports from the raw intelligence acquired by the active divisions that covered elements pertaining to their speciality.



All of those reports would end up, eventually, in the hands of the Analysis Unit, who were tasked with reassembling the general view from the disjointed and specific facets. Then, they would boil their conclusions down into summaries, which would in turn pass back into the hands of the Hokage's Office, where they would end up on Orochimaru's desk for his review. At which point, the information would be relayed to interested parties, added to Konoha's own files, or sometimes slammed away under his private seal.



It was all quite tedious, but nevertheless very important. The Intelligence Division was arguably the backbone of the village, after all, or at least its eyes, ears, and fingers. They kept the village's official bingo book of high profile enemies and outstanding bounties updated, their work informed every decision about whether or not to accept a contract and how the resulting mission should be ranked, and they kept the Hokage appraised of how the world turned.



And in the process, they generated such vast seas of paperwork that Orochimaru had already begun to have stress dreams about drowning in his own shed skins, each of which dripped with neatly inked calligraphy requesting his careful consideration.



And that's before the damned Signal Interception Team that Teacher ordered even enters the picture to demand more of my time with all of their reports and their endless requests for more funding!



Orochimaru shuddered, and realized that he'd been gripping the scroll in clenched hands, to the clear unease of several of the chuunin in attendance. Shikuro, at least, had the good sense to keep any disquiet he might have experienced to himself, taking shelter behind that Aburame dispassion that always hovered on the very edge of being inhuman.



Good thing he's wearing those glasses, Orochimaru thought, shoving his own momentary unease away before even a hint of it could reveal itself, looking away from the Jonin Commander's flat face to peruse the map. Nobody should ever be forced to look into an Aburame's eyes, especially not a man expected to dine with Captain-Major Oyama and his staff in two hours.



Eyes packed to bulging with maggots, the Hokage reasoned, should strictly be a post-dinner experience, if they must be experienced at all. Praise be to whoever convinced the Aburame to adopt concealing their eyes as a clan signature.



As expected, the map was precisely drawn by a steady hand using a thin brush. Orochimaru suspected it was Yamanaka work; that clan generally enjoyed a reputation for their deftness with a brush.



Which makes it all the more baffling that they've never taken to fuuinjutsu, he noted as he poured over the carefully hatched polygons denoting distributions of soldiers and samurai from Lightning, comparing the topological lines against the mental picture of the Mutosi Valley still fresh in his mind. Perhaps I could convince the clan to offer a few of their youngsters to Jiraiya as prospective apprentices? I did warn him that I would be expecting him to take on students…



"Very good," the Hokage said crisply, rolling the map back up and returning it to Shikuro. "Captain-Major Oyama is waiting to discuss the strategic situation with me; you will be joining us, unless your subordinates urgently require your supervision?"



"No, Lord Hokage," the Aburame jonin agreed, and with a gesture from Konoha's theater commander, the knot of squad leaders dispersed back to their units.



"But," Orochimaru continued, setting a companionable hand on the Jonin Commander's shoulder, itself a small powerplay considering how few people in Konoha were ever inclined to set hands on an Aburame even in anger, "before we go talk to the samurai… Tell me."



It is such a delight to be the one issuing vague and cryptic commands, the Sannin couldn't help but note, having been on the receiving end of similarly open-ended demands quite often over his years of service. It's always interesting to see just what they dredge up.



And he was quite interested to hear what Shikuro had to say. While not the clanhead of the Aburame, he was still a highly respected shinobi, both in the squirming eyes of his kinsmen and in the regard of the broader village. That respect had been enough to merit command over a full te of ninja, one hundred of the usual four-man squads organized into sonae of fifteen squads apiece. Just under a third of Konoha's entire active muster, all under the command of the famously enigmatic Aburame Shikuro.



He had a good face for being enigmatic, Orochimaru had to admit. It was curiously flat, as if someone had endeavored to plane away all of the usual ridges and bumps of the human face, and had only exempted the battered nose and pale lips as a concession to the demands of function. Those lips were pressed into the same flat expressionless line that Orochimaru considered synonymous with the Jonin Commander, having never seen the man without it.



Beyond that hard, flat face, free of any facial hair, there was very little to render Shikuro as visually distinctive. A powerfully built man, his bulk was swathed in a heavy hooded poncho, whose baggy folds obscured the set of his broad shoulders and likely concealed any number of useful tools. A scarf tied around the Aburame's head held his long brown hair back and, along with the hood and the sunglasses, gave his face the mien of a buried skull, surrounded by rich black dirt.



His hitai-ate glistened from the neck of his poncho where it sat, gorget-style, against the hollow of his collarbone.



"Tell you what?" Aburame Shikuro asked, inclining his head just enough to add the interrogatory to his toneless response. "The state of our readiness? We stand ready, Lord Hokage, though our ranks are somewhat depleted. Unit morale? All is well. The food is… passable."



It wasn't immediately clear if the last three sentences encompassed a single thought or two, but their general thrust was of satisfaction with the current state of affairs, if not enthusiasm.



It's the first point that could be an issue, particularly since that depletion is, at the very least, aggravated by the withdrawal I ordered of the youth from the ranks.



"Reinforcements will be arriving soon," the Hokage assured his field commander. "Suna has agreed to take over the westernmost zones from Northern Command. By now, Matsumuro should already be reconsolidating his forces and deciding who he can spare to second to your command."



Matsumuro being, in this case, Jonin Nara Matsumuro, Shikuro's opposite number holding the northern marches against Iwa and opportunistic strikes from Kumo.



"That is good," stated Shikuro, without anything resembling a smile disturbing his placidly blank face.



I wonder if the kikaichu squirming under his skin and teeming in his eyes are smiling for him?



Orochimaru had never had the opportunity to fully investigate the Aburame Clan and their peculiar mutualistic relationship with their kikai beetles; the Aburame were very insular and tended to be tight-knit amongst themselves, which meant he had yet to get his hands on a subject for destructive testing. Still, even without the full knowledge of their secrets, he had fought alongside enough Aburames to know that the bonds they shared with their hosted swarms represented far more than a hilt upon a sword. Host and swarm shared feelings and experiences, most definitely including pain.



Orochimaru could still remember when he'd first heard a kikaichu swarm shriek from two thousand throats as one of Shikuro's kinsmen died in silence, writhing as Wind Scorpion venom from a poisoned Suna kunai rotted him from within. The man's face had remained utterly stoic even as his body spasmed and jerked, but the clouds of winged kikaichu issuing from every pore of his dying body had screamed on his behalf, a whining piercing drone that Orochimaru had been unable to escape even with his hands pressed firmly over his ears. If he ever were to… to examine a specimen, then appropriate precautions would have to be made well in advance.



"Indeed," Orochimaru said, nodding encouragingly to the Aburame. "Anything else you would like to… report?"



Then, he stood there, smiling patiently as he held the Jonin Commander's eyes, waiting for Shikuro to speak again.



…And kept waiting.



I… appreciate my Jonin Commander's professionalism, Orochimaru thought, shoving away his mounting irritation while strictly maintaining his pointedly unaffected posture. But clearly it would be easier to pull the teeth from his head than to coax the words I want to hear from his tongue. And while the Aburame are hardly expressive, that damned coat of his mutes any telling body language or tics.



"I had," the jonin said at last, "expected Jonin Namikaze."



"As the Sandaime's successor," Orochimaru silently completed for him, understanding exactly what the other man meant.



"Will thisss be an isssssue?" the Hokage politely asked, his accent touching his voice again as Manda's tongue flickered out from between his lips. Shikuro tasted acrid, bitter. Like ants. "Will you have issssuesss taking ordersss from me?"



"No," Shikuro replied calmly. "You are the Hokage, and thus, are Konoha. Your record speaks for itself. I am just… surprised, that the Lord Sandaime decided to change course so abruptly. There is…" he hesitated slightly, just the slightest discomfort marring his tone, "some discontent among my command. The war's conclusion seemed in sight one day, but only a week later, hostilities resume under the direction of a new leader."



"...You have heard word of what transsspired back in Konoha?" asked the Hokage, a thin eyebrow elevated in curiosity. "About the insssult Kumo offered usss?"



"Yes, Lord Hokage," confirmed Shikuro, "as has every shinobi and kunoichi under my command. There is some discontent, yes, but not very much. We still stand ready to fight. But, if it is possible and if the Northern Front remains truly closed a month from now, I would suggest introducing a system to rotate squads back to Konoha on a regular basis. Temporary leave passes are all well and good, but the services of camp followers do not soothe the longing for home."



That was… unusually florid for an Aburame, Orochimaru thought, taken aback. Perhaps a poet's soul resides somewhere inside the man after all, cohabitating with all the kikkai.



"I will consider it," the Hokage allowed, turning the idea over to examine it from another direction.



As students, we are taught to obey without question and be willing to sacrifice our lives for the greater good of Konoha. To take no break in tirelessly driving the enemy from our lands, and to end all threats to the village or the mission without hesitation or mercy. Yet… if I regard my shinobi and my kunoichi as my tools, or as fuel for the bonfire of Konoha…



Tools require regular maintenance, do they not? Proper maintenance as well. You can get by with patch jobs, luck, and elbow grease for a while, but every now and then even the most robust machine requires a periodic teardown and rebuild. A full overhaul at regular intervals is best, or a spectacular breakdown at the least convenient moment is all but guaranteed.



So, if I regard the people of my village as my tools…



"A rotation home would present a good opportunity to retrain the returning squads," Orochimaru said aloud, nodding in agreement with his own words, "a good chance to break poor habits formed on the battlefield and firming up the fundamentals while giving our veterans a chance to pass on lessons to our new genin and academy students… And I will concede your point, Shikuro; even the sharpest blade will dull and break without proper care and servicing. It is the same with our comrades… and if they are to break on the battlefield some day, it would be a shame if their experience and jutsu died with them."



"As you say, Lord Hokage," the Jonin Commander tunelessly replied. "Thank you for your consideration."





"...Now, as with any jutsu whose use involves total immersion within something other than air, it is of crucial importance to take breathing into account.



"You would think," Orochimaru went on, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the tent given over for his and his genin team's use for the one night they would be spending in the Eastern Headquarters Camp before returning to Konoha, "that this would not be a point I would need to remind you of. You would think that nobody could be so foolish as to forget that the ability to, say, swim through the earth did not include the ability to breath liquified soil as well.



"You would be gravely mistaken. I have seen ninja fail to account for how long they would need to hold their breath and have to resort to emerging well outside of the reach of their target, surrendering the element of surprise and leaving their gasping selves vulnerable for a shurikan to the skull.



"It should go without saying that, should this happen to any of you, I'll kill you myself if you somehow survive the head wound."



Predictably, Anko grinned at that. Akimi and Nagamasa at least deigned to show sufficient respect for his lessons to nod gravely in response.



Idiot girl. If she ends up gasping like a fish with a knife in her throat, it'll be her own fault.



Not that I actually expect her to be stupid in that specific way, Orochimaru admitted to himself. No, I expect her to stupid herself to death in a much more… bombastic manner. The idiot.



"Alright," he said, moving briskly along. "With that in mind, these are the signs for Earth Style: Hide Like a Mole Jutsu. Watch closely, because I'm only going to do this on–"



"Attack!" someone outside the tent yelled out, the sounds of a gong ringing out through the night. "Enemies in the camp! It's a raid! We're under attack!"



All four were on their feet in an instant as reflexes honed on, in the Sannin's case, battlefields stretching back decades came to the fore. Through the fabric of the tent, Orochimaru could see the shadows of his Anbu bodyguards taking up defensive positions in the vain hope that he would be content to merely sit by as chaos unfolded around him.



A fool's bet, the White Snake scoffed, a kunai already pricking a finger on his hand, the beading blood the cost of invoking his contract. From behind him came the distinct sound of Anko biting her forearm, making her own sacrifice. Who could respect a leader that cowers in his tent?



Besides, he reasoned, if I stay in place, my genin would be compelled to follow my lead, and that would be unfair to them. They deserve the opportunity to add a few Kumo scalps to their records. Some nice variety to go with all the Kiri filth. It'll be good for their resume.



"Nagamasa," Orochimaru prompted, but the boy was ahead of him, the veins around his eyes bulging like bloated worms as he called upon his ancestral power.



"Northwards, seventy paces," the Hyuuga spat, head orienting in that direction, eyes fixed on something beyond the shifting wall of the tent and the occluding night dark. "Five combatants, two of them ours. One of the Kumo is wielding a sword, the other two kunai, and all three of them are close in."



"Sssoundsss like our firssst ssstop," hissed the serpent at Orochimaru's feet, the steam from his summoning still wafting off the ten feet of rippling white scales. The Sannin hid the grunt of exertion from the massive weight of the summon under a thoughtful hum. The heavy constrictor was a massive creature packed with muscle and its bulk was far from insignificant, especially as it climbed its way up his side before finding a perch across his shoulders. Fortunately, long experience had turned the inconvenience into a familiar burden. He had worked with Gnopa before many times before, after all. "Take usss to him, Sssummoner."



"Akimi," Orochimaru called out, ignoring the snake's demand, "barrier overhead, now. Team Orochimaru, diamond formation, Anko as rearguard."



As they burst from the tent, the four-man Anbu team fell in around Team Orochimaru in a loose box, the masked figures moving with practiced precision.



Not that the discipline was enough to obscure the resigned frustration Orochimaru could feel wafting off the security detail's baboon-masked leader.



Not that Orochimaru cared in the slightest. It was the obligation of bodyguards to protect even the most unreasonable of bosses, and after so long spent trapped behind a desk or hashing out quiet side deals with various potentates, he had quite a bit of unreasonability stored up.



The camp was a confusion of dark shapes flickering in and out of the small pools of light cast by braziers and campfires, with the guyropes, stools, and other clutter of the camp adding an additional element of complication. Orochimaru would have dearly loved to move Nagamasa to the front of the formation, night being no barrier to his all-seeing eyes, but had no desire to follow his genin into combat.



Besides, using your eyes as a meatshield is a fantastic way to leave yourself blind.



Out of the dark, a shurikan streaked past, nowhere near Orochimaru's head. It was still enough to agitate the Anbu, the foremost two of whom redoubled their speed, almost sprinting ahead before a hissed command from their leader pulled them back into the defensive formatioon.



"Friendly down!" Nagamasa announced, his voice urgent. "One of our two is down. Looks like he might be dead."



"Still the same three hostiles?" Orochimaru asked, and when Nagamasa confirmed his supposition with a jerked nod, said, "Anbu, Team Orochimaru will handle these few. Range out and intercept any other Kumo nin nearby. Let none come to the aid of these fools."



After all, he reasoned, if these Cloud-nin managed to only down one of ours, with the dual advantages of numbers and surprise on their side, in the time it took us to run here from the tent, well…



They sound like ideal teaching material.



For a moment, the baboon-masked officer in charge of the Anbu detachment glared at Orochimaru through the slits of his mask, a bodyguard clearly frustrated by his principal's insistence on endangering himself.



But, to be Anbu was to be a tool in the Kage's hand, and the squad captain was a superb instrument in the Yondaime Hokage's arsenal. Two hand gestures to his fellow masked nin later and Team Orochimaru was alone.



With a gesture from Orochimaru, the genin team burst into a full out run. From around his shoulders, Gnopa hissed with delight, scenting the fresh blood already hanging on the air.



Then, they were no longer on their way to the fight; instead, they were there, in a small clearing in the orderly sea of tents, just outside the tail-end of a one-sided fight. By the light of the smoldering coals of a brazier, spilled across the far side of clearing by some unattentive hand, Orochimaru could see several bodies sprawling from the tents, wide red mouths gaping at their throats.



Knives in the night, he knew, having been on both sides of many such raids in the past. They all look like common ashigaru though, no samurai or shinobi here.



None of mine lost.



Except there was a shinobi bleeding on the ground, a scraggly bearded man wearing the flak vest of a chuunin and a Konoha hitai-ate tied around his bicep. The flak vest had proven poor armor against the sword still in the hand of the Kumo kunoichi striking down into the guard of a desperately backpedaling Konoha-nin, blade flashing wetly in the light of the coals.



Vanishing back into the bloodspattered ranks of tents, Orochimaru lead his students through a weaving course, clinging to the shadows and cover as they neared the struggling knot of combatants. Between breaks in the canvas, the lone Konoha kunoichi's desperate battle unfolded in flashing glimpses, vanishing in eyeblinks as Team Orochimaru darted ever closer to their still unwary prey.



And prey they were, for the White Snake of Konoha was on the hunt again. The office of the Hokage and all of its troubles were cast, at least for a second, from the Serpent's shoulders, discarded like old skin. In the cold furnaces of his belly, chakra steamed like newly shed blood, breathing new warmth into his coals. His tongue flicked, tasting fire and blood, and his muscles twitched, their eager anticipation a reply to the scent of suffering on the air.



Every part of Orochimaru's world narrowed into focus; the man was gone, along with all of his cares, and the coiled viper was ready to strike.



Just before they broke into the clearing for a second time, the embattled kunoichi noticed the dark figures, shadows even against the flame-torn night, sprinting from the welter of guyropes and camp furniture. Her breath hitched, just for a breath, and then she threw herself back into the struggle, strength renewed.



Even through the confused darkness, Orochimaru saw hope blossom in her eyes, bright as stars and, potentially, as short-lived as a gnat.



The trio from Kumo were no fools, though; closer to the lone Leaf, they also saw the dreadful hope in her eyes and knew exactly what it meant.



Help had arrived, but not for them.



All three broke for different directions in an explosion of movement. The two on the flank each pivoted, guarding the flanks while giving their sword-wielding leader space to put her longer blade to work at the vertex of their triangle furthest from the enemy they could see. In Orochimaru's eyes, it was clearly a practiced formation, designed to allow the kunoichi with the sword time to assess their evolving situation while her two towering companions guarded her flanks.



Instead, the ground opened up beneath her, and liquified dirt swallowed her legs.



She yelped, caught by surprise, and began to yell something. A curse, an order? Whatever it was, it died stillborn, choked off by the kunai lodged so deeply in her throat that the blade skittered as it found bone.



From several paces away, Orochimaru caught his second kunai from the air in a fighting grip, the first of his two thrown knives proving more than adequate for the first piece of trash the night had offered him as prey. That simple trick had been enough to test the measure of these Cloud raiders, and he'd found them gravely wanting.



Next to the dying Cloud kunoichi, one of her companions, a massive man who had a full two heads' height on Orochimaru, grunted a curse as first one senbon needle clanked off his knife and out into the camp's darkness, and then a second.



Anko, it seemed, was unwilling to allow her teacher full mastery of all the fun and games afoot, and had not bothered to wait for his approval before striking.



Good initiative, said teacher noted approvingly, and one lost Cloud already down. That was as much thought as Orochimaru spared for his petty victory; it was hardly worth anything else, especially not when further prey was afoot. His eyes were already scanning the clearing for the two Kumo shinobi, or for any sign of enemy reinforcements. Somewhere off to the left, he heard the sounds of violence, swiftly cut off. Good, my weasels are hunting down any rats who might scurry my way.



He spared a glance for the corpse of the Kumo nin, buried to her knees in the middle of the clearing. Blood, aromatic to Manda's tongue and still warm with a life just taken, bubbled from around the buried hilt of kunai, undoubtedly frothy as air displaced from her rapidly filling lungs escaped in the seep. Fortunately, I still have two specimens for my students to test themselves against. Not that I expect that test to be of any great difficulty…



Seemingly by unspoken consent, Anko and Nagamasa split from his sides, dashing at the Cloud–nin.



Anko rushed at the man who had deflected her senbon, a giant of a man who stood head, shoulders and chest above the twelve-year old kunoichi charging at him with still more razor-tipped needles glinting from between her fingers. Orochimaru knew that there was far more to her assault than her needles, though – for one, the viper she had summoned earlier still lurked out of sight, most likely coiled tightly around her arm in the concealing sleeve of her coat. For another, Akimi was only a few paces behind her, dropping to a knee and reaching for the ground, preparing a restrictive barrier that would keep the enemy from escaping Anko's lashing fangs.



Nagamasa, for his part, met his chosen foe with no weapon save for his bare hands; suffused in the blue glow of sharpened chakra, no other weapon was required. Pale eyes bulging, hands lashing in precise strikes towards joints and blood vessels pounding barely beneath the skin, he was the very embodiment of the Hyuuga Clan, for all that the Caged Bird Seal lurked behind his hitai-ate.



Satisfied, Orochimaru slowed his own rush and came nearly to a halt, slowly pacing forwards between the two fights. He glanced left and right, noting how Nagamasa easily redirected a stabbing kunai just the slightest degree to the side, sending the jab whiffing harmlessly past his arm, and seeing how Akimi's hands were in motion again as he began setting up a genjutsu that would further hamper his enemy.



"Children," Orochimaru remarked to the Konoha nin he had just saved from death, almost melancholic as he halted by her side. "They grow up so fast, don't they?



"Why," he sighed, shaking his head and shrugging Gnopa off his shoulders, the great snake hissing irritably before slithering off to flank the man dueling Nagamasa, "it feels like it was only just yesterday that I was overseeing their first D-rank mission! Now, here they are… I guess I really will have to give them permission to attempt the Chuunin Exam this year after all."



"...Were you not going to?" the woman ventured, and then belatedly added, "Lord Hokage."



Orochimaru eyed her for a moment, searching for any signs of disrespect, but saw only the numb shock of a near-death experience.



"No, not really," he said, turning back to the twin duels. "I might have held it over Anko's head a bit longer – she tends to work better with a goal in mind, you know, but honestly? They've been chuunin level for a while now. I'd be wasting their talents if I kept dragging them after me much longer."



"...If you say so, Lord Hokage," the kunoichi, a genin, now that Orochimaru bothered to look, said after a moment. "Umm… If you don't mind me asking… What was their first D-rank mission?"



"Why do you asssk?" Orochimaru inquired absentmindedly, and then cursed when he realized he'd lost control of his tongue again. He had been watching as Nagamasa overextended himself and nearly took a kunai to the elbow as a reward. "Any particular reason?"



"Well…" the kunoichi shuffled for a moment. "I mean, they're your team, right? The personal students of a Sannin, the White Snake of Konoha. I'm kinda curious about what that was like."



Probably wants to know if there's any secret lessons, came the jaded thought. Hardly surprising, considering how many rumors there are about the "Legendary Sannin," as if Hanzo hadn't been at least halfway sarcastic when he named us as much.



Or… another thought offered itself, one stemming from many long long years spent in Jiraya's company, perhaps she's just eager to indulge that other great vice for ninja, besides gambling and drinking to forget. Starved for a treasure we hoard with equal vigor as our secret techniques.



Gossip.



"Extermination," Orochimaru bluntly said, and grinned as Anko's viper at last made itself known, flying from her sleeve and sinking fang-deep into the Cloud giant's massive bicep. "I took them to a textile warehouse with a rodent problem and set them to think of a solution to the issue that would leave the product undamaged. I was curious about what their dynamic would be, and about whether any of the three had the slightest trace of brain."



An explosion of movement caught Orochimaru's eye as Gnopa made his presence at last known. With a stealth incongruous for a snake with scales as pale as milk and a width twice that of a man's arm, the summoned python had crept to the very feet of the hulking Cloud-nin trading blows with Nagamasa. Now, in a thunderblow of meat and bone, the terrible serpent had lifted the upper third of his trunk up from the ground and slammed forwards into the man's legs, immediately shattering his bones and sending the Cloud raider tumbling to the ground.



Great coils of opalescent scale over thick cords of muscle flew as Gnopa spiraled up the Kumo shinobi, up to the man's chest. The giant struck out, his kunai stabbing down at the blunt head resting almost companionably on his shoulder, but the angle was bad and the blade glanced harmlessly away from the constrictor's armor. That one, feeble strike was all he managed before Gnopa undulated, the muscles under his glimmering skin moving in waves as they flexed, crushing down with unyielding force. Orochimaru heard the rasping wheeze from the dying man as the contractions drove his final breath from his lungs, saw eyes rosy with ruptured capillaries dart wildly about for help, fingers twitch desperately for some saving action, bloody spittle foam on his mouth as he struggled to rise up on shattered legs to escape the white nightmare.



Then, the doomed man's rib cage imploded with a sickening wet crack.



He was aware, that doomed Kumo shinobi, and still very much alive within the gleaming coils of the dread predator crushing the life out of him with effortless, contemptuous ease. Alive and aware until Nagamasa stepped forward, brushed his fingers across his blanching brow with deceptive gentleness, and shredded the man's brain.



"Anyway," Orochimaru turned back to the genin, his only by village, not by tutelage, "it turned out that they were all quite clever. The teamwork took some effort, but we got there in the end. In the field, at least – you could not begin to imagine the bickering whenever they're not on a mission."



"I… see," the kunoichi nodded stiffly, eyes still fixed on the dead shinobi. His eyes, nose, and ears had begun to bleed as well as the slurry that Nagamasa had made of his brain seeped out. "Extermination. Right. I see. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity, Lord Hokage."



"Think nothing of it," Orochimaru grandly replied. "You did a satisfactory job surviving until my team and I arrived. Well done."



"Thank you, Lord Hokage," she said again, her voice subdued. "Nopperabo wasn't so lucky."



"Nopperabo?" Orochimaru frowned at the unfamiliar name, and then followed her eyes to the chuunin with the bloody chest. "Ah, yes."



He spared a glance back towards Anko and Akimi, who were both standing over the spasming body of the other Cloud shinobi and poking idly at the man as the necrophying venom of one of Manda's get liquified the flesh from his arm.



Ah, kids will be kids, the Hokage thought, suppressing a nostalgic smile. They really shouldn't be playing with their food, but… Perhaps they've earned a little indulgence.



And while they're indulging, I'll handle the unpleasant part.



Pulling a sealing scroll from his belt, Orochimaru made his way over to the body of the unfortunate Nopperabo.



"Were you close?" he asked the trailing kunoichi. "Teammates, perhaps? Friends?"



"No, Lord Hokage," she denied, shaking her head. "He's from Team 12. Just an acquaintance. We were just playing cards…"



"Gambling is forbidden," Orochimaru drawled, but waved his hand as the woman paled. "No matter; it is fortunate you were both awake, unlike those other poor fools in the tent. You gave a good account of yourselves; you did, at least. I arrived too late to see Nopperabo in action."



"He fought hard," said the kunoichi, her voice clear and definitive. "If he hadn't gotten in that bitch's way, hadn't taken that sword… He'd probably be the one talking to you, not me. He saved my life."



"...He certainly had the Will of Fire in that case," muttered Orochimaru, saying what he thought his Teacher would have probably said in the face of that pronouncement. It cost nothing to praise the man now that he was dead, after all, and denigrating him in the face of a shell-shocked comrade would accomplish nothing.



Even if a chuunin should have had either the jutsu or the dexterity to keep from being spitted on a blade. I wonder if drinks were served at this card game?



That didn't matter now. Stooping, Orochimaru pressed the sealing scroll against Nopperabo's slack-jawed face and activated the seal. In a puff of smoke, the cadaver was gone, sealed away into the stasis of the scroll.



"Here," he said, handing the scroll to the kunoichi. "Go find his squad. No need for them to stumble around in the dark trying to find their lost comrade. Then go and report back to your own. Let them know you're still alive."



"I… I will, Lord," the Leaf-nin said, hand rising to her heart in a salute. "Thank you, Lord."



"Stay safe," he replied with a negligent wave, and turned his attention back to his students as the kunoichi also vanished in a puff of smoke.



It was time to assess their performance.



To his delight, Nagamasa had assumed the role of the watchful guard without any need for instruction or guidance. His hands still glowed through the veins in his temples had smoothed out as he gave his eyes a chance to relax. Still, he was peering off into the shadows of the tent sea, searching for any lurking enemies.



Orochimaru noted that the Hyuuga had chosen to watch for enemies from a point several paces away from where Gnopa, jaw dislocated, was beginning the arduous process of eating his dinner. It was difficult to tell, what with the clearing's poor light and the typical Hyuuga reserve, but Nagamasa looked distinctly queasy.



Within Akimi's barrier, Anko was busily sawing away at the dead man while her teammate looked on with academic interest. To Orochimaru, he didn't seem so interested in the scalping – which he had seen plenty of before after skirmishes against Kiri – but in the sheer volume of the Cloud ninja. He seemed to be eying the man's surviving arm, evaluating its reach.



I wonder if he nearly got Akimi at some point? Reached past Anko to try to grab at the softer target, the one whose barrier kept him from fleeing and whose genjutsu blurred Anko's form and made it impossible to track her movements? It would explain his interest in the meat, now that the threat is gone.



"I commend your diligence, Anko," he called out, stepping to the very edge of Akimi's barrier, "but you should know that the bounty offered by Konoha only applied to ninja from Kiri, not just any scalp you happened across."



"But you're the Hokage, so what you say goes," chirped Anko, grinning over her shoulder at him. "How much will you – 'scuse me, the village – give me for a nice Cloud-head, eh?"



"The katsudon's on me when we return home," Orochimaru said grandly, and then turned to Akimi. "Would you like a sealing scroll, Akimi?"



"Hmm?" The bespectacled boy looked up from the corpse. "Not in particular. Why?"



"Well, dissection is generally easier in a controlled environment," Orochimaru reasoned, hopeful that this could be a sign at last that Akimi was awaking to the same interests he and Anko shared. "It really wouldn't be any trouble, if this specimen interests you…"



"No, thank you Teacher," Akimi said, shaking his head and collapsing his barrier. "I was just thinking that he was a pretty tall drink of water, you know? Nothing that special."



"Says the twerp," jeered Anko. "Sounds like some sour grapes if you ask me, short-stuff."



"Laugh it up while you can, Beady Eyes!" Akimi replied, heat touching his voice and his cheeks. "In a few years, I'll be laughing down at you!"



"Enough." The one word was enough to bring the brewing argument to a quick end. "The camp is still under attack; we have more work to be about. Nagamasa?"



"My eyes remain functional, Teacher," the Branch Hyuuga replied, coming to stand by his leader. His momentary discomfort, Orochimaru was pleased to see, had clearly subsided. "That said, I believe that the remaining raiders are retreating. Also, your Anbu have reconvened and are waiting for orders."



"Yes," Orochimaru agreed, having spotted the four masked faces lurking near the edge of the clearing. At least they had put out the spilled embers before any of the tents had caught fire. "Well… In that case, I suppose we had best return to our tent. No doubt reports will soon be arriving to explain just how much damage Kumo accomplished, as will Jonin Commander Aburame, ready to tell me how best we can respond in kind."

 

[Readhead]

(Thank you to ScarredPunLover, MetalDragon, Sunny, and KoreanWriter for their help brainstorming and editing.)


Shortly after his elevation, Orochimaru had ordered that a bulletin be posted throughout Konoha making it known that he was interested in novel applications of jutsu, and that should anybody have some fresh new idea they would like to develop further, he would be amenable to scheduling an immediate meeting.


To his disappointment, his offer had yet to be taken up. It was hardly a surprise, considering how most of the shinobi and kunoichi of the Leaf were out on the borders of the Land of Fire, far from the village and his office, but it was still disappointing. The Uchiha were still in Konoha, after all, as were segments of every other major clan and all of the under-twelves pulled back from combat duty.


So, when a vulture-masked Anbu set a scroll down on his desk first thing in the morning with a murmured, "Your schedule, Lord Hokage," Orochimaru was pleasantly surprised to see that Akimi had booked a meeting with him, with the stated agenda listed bafflingly as, "Incarcerating Barrier/Anchored Barrier?"


I wonder what he has in mind?


This was quite the pleasant surprise, as Metani Akimi was a bright but uncreative student in Orochimaru's experience. Hopefully, this new flicker of creativity was a sign that the boy was finally starting to embrace his teacher's love for jutsu experimentation and development!


Ah, yes, Orochimaru thought as the Anbu ushered his student into the office, hastily reassembling the mask of the Hokage over his increasingly eager anticipation. I remember my first attempts at developing my own jutsu. Disappointments, every one of them! Minimal improvements on the standard forms at best, painful humiliations at worst! I will have to take care to nurture Akimi through the process, lest he get discouraged by early setbacks.


"Teacher," Akimi said, greeting him formally with a deep bow, "thank you for agreeing to see me this morning."


"You're welcome," replied the Hokage. "As you know, my interest in jutsu development is both professional and personal. I am very interested in what you have in mind with this… 'Incarceration Barrier' you mentioned.


"Besides," added Orochimaru, "I'm intrigued that you went through the process of requesting a formal meeting, Akimi. We see each other most days at scheduled team training."


"True," his student agreed, bobbing his head in acknowledgement, "but this didn't seem appropriate to bring up then.


"I mean…" Akimi pushed his glasses back up his nose, a gesture Orochimaru had long associated with embarrassment or nerves in his clanless student, "this is really only a private project, and the team only has so much of your time, so it would be selfish of me to demand you focus on me and make Anko and Nagamasa wait…


"Besides, it isn't even like I know this is actually going to work anyway."


There really wasn't any need for discretion; Anko, for example, has less than no compunction about monopolizing my time.


Perhaps he thought that was a privilege only extended to Anko? Or, Orochichimaru considered, with a private chuckle, perhaps he's wary of criticism from Anko or Nagamasa and is feigning thoughtfulness to escape having to pitch the idea in the face of their scrutiny?


"As you wish," said Orochimaru, conceding the point. Akimi's exact motivations didn't particularly matter, not when a potentially intriguing jutsu variant was waiting to be discussed. "So, tell me more about this idea of yours. Something about a barrier, I believe?"


"Correct." Akimi paused to draw himself up to his full height, pushing slender shoulders back, and then pausing again as his glasses began to slide down his nose. "As you know, Teacher, I have experience with the String Light Formation Barrier and the Five-Seal Barrier Techniques. As you also know, both of these techniques require a focus to function correctly. In the case of the String Light Formation Barrier, that focus is the shinobi using the technique, however, as you know,in the case of the Five-Seal Barrier, it is the central tag identifying the centroid of the forbidden area."


"Mostly accurate," Orochimaru agreed, "although the String Light Formation Barrier isn't focused on the user so much as it is the point the user was standing when they initiated the technique."


"But the user still can't exit the area of the technique without disrupting the barrier," Akimi stubbornly pointed out. "And the barrier only lasts as long as the user continues to allow their chakra to flow into the technique to maintain it."


"That is true," the Sannin conceded with a nod. "Go on."


"Right…" Akimi blinked, took a breath, and appeared to recall where he had been. "Right, so, in each case, the anchor is the biggest weakness in the barrier. For the String Light Formation Barrier, killing the user or otherwise incapacitating them will collapse the barrier, while the Five-Seal Barrier will collapse if either all four of the external seals are removed, or if the central seal is removed.


"But what if we could figure out some way to anchor the technique to something that nobody would want to destroy?"


The boy paused, clearly anticipating a response, but Orochimaru only gestured for him to continue, intrigued where he was going with this line of thought.


"It was the String Light Formation Barrier that got me thinking about this," Akimi continued, twisting his hands into the first few hand seals of the evoking sequence, "specifically how it applies to everybody within the range of effect when initiated. Nobody and nothing from the outside can enter, but nobody inside it can leave except for the user, who'll immediately collapse it if he does. I was thinking that, if that last part wasn't true, it'd be an ideal prison cell.


"So I was thinking… What if the anchor and the maintenance flow for the barrier could be detached from the shinobi using the technique as soon as the jutsu goes into effect, and instead transferred over to the inmates within the barrier? My thinking is they wouldn't want to destroy themselves, meaning that we wouldn't have to worry about the anchor, and their own chakra system would provide the flow needed to keep the barrier in place."


"That would be… ideal," Orochimaru said, trying to be encouraging without getting his student's hopes up overly much. "But, how are you going to go about it, hmm?"


"That's the part where I'm not so certain…" Akimi admitted, earning an amused snort from Orochimaru. "I haven't really ever used any jutsu that requires a partner… voluntary or otherwise, which a living anchor and chakra battery would effectively become after I passed the jutsu over.


"I know that the Inuzuka Clan uses a ton of that sort of technique with their dogs. It isn't really the same, since the Inuzuka are all really close to their dogs and the dogs train to fight with their masters, but they're about as close to what I've got in mind as I could think of. So, if you thought this idea had a chance of working out, I was going to go and see an Inuzuka who I know from the Academy…"


Using an Inuzuka-style bond requires a significant degree of synchronization and compatibility with one's partner, as best as I understand it, and requires the dog's trust and consent to initialize and maintain the chakra link. But if that sort of bond could be forced upon a target who could be compelled to receive a jutsu I used, regardless of their consent or thoughts about the imposed technique, self-reinforcing incarceration barriers would only be the start…


"I don't know if your idea has any practical legs, but I certainly think that it is worth following up on," declared the Hokage, reaching for a blank scroll and his brush. "So, young Akimi, here is what we're going to do. I am going to issue you an individual C-Rank mission to develop this idea further. C-Rank for now, because it will be ongoing with loose parameters, but if you actually manage to deliver something workable, I'll bump it up to a B-Rank for reward purposes."


"Thank you, Teacher," said Akimi, bowing as he accepted the scroll. "Although… how will I complete a mission independent of the rest of Team Orochimaru?"


"Well," Orochimaru hedged, "I called it a mission, but this is more of a grant. Take that scroll down to the Mission Assignment Desk; they will hand you forty-thousand ryo. Use that to get started. You'll be working in your own time, whenever the team isn't training or on missions. Take as long as you need."


"Thank you, Teacher," Akimi repeated, and then, "so… What should I use the money for? In fact, what do you think I should do next? I… haven't ever really done anything like this before."


Ah, right, first time.


"This isn't a payment," Orochimaru briskly replied, leaning back in his chair, "but rather some loose funds to help defray any costs associated with experimenting on transferring the anchor of the String Light Formation Barrier, which is where I'd advise you to start. Buy a dog, not an Inuzuka dog if you know what's good for you, or a monkey and try to pass the technique to them first. Approach your Inuzuka friend and ask for his advice, and pay him for it too so he doesn't leave empty-handed.


"Above all else, write everything down. What you did, why you did it, when, how you went about altering the jutsu, what the outcome was, how it differed from what you expected, so on and so forth. If you can, draw diagrams as well to illustrate your points. Even what seems like a catastrophic failure can be a valuable lesson with the context provided by accurate and thorough documentation.


"I will be expecting a complete report."

---

After the pleasant surprise that had been Akimi's appointment, the remainder of the Hokage's morning dragged on in a welter of reports and meetings with various dignitaries and representatives.


Everybody, it seemed, had news that he urgently needed to hear, and very little of it was good.


The Konoha Bank, a local institution managed by a non-ninja family but backed by a number of Konoha's smaller clans including the Izuno and Onikuma, had sent a very polite and regretful second son to inform the Hokage that the bank would be insisting on a fresh round of negotiations before further credit would be extended to the village government. Multiple lines of credit, including several backed by other banks from around the Land of Fire who were also voicing their misgivings, had already been issued to Konohagakure, the emissary pointed out, and while the interest had been duly serviced, repayment on loans taken out in the first year of the war would soon be coming due without any sign from the Hokage's Office of repayment of the principal.


A very sleep-deprived medical-nin had also appeared before him, sent by Chief Medical-Nin Shiozaki to report on the chronic overcrowding of the Konoha Hospital's convalescent and intensive care wards.


With the tenuous peace with Iwa still holding for the moment, all of the ninja under treatment in field hospitals across the burnt-over northern marches had been evacuated to Konoha, immediately swamping the hospital. The situation was made worse by the recall of ninja whose wounds had been insufficiently severe to pull them off the badly taxed frontlines. Now, the bill for that borrowed time came true as the medical-nin had to contend with poorly healed injuries and the fruits of sometimes questionable self-care or battlefield medicine.


And that wasn't even touching on the multitude of issues the young combatants recalled from the frontlines were struggling with still, even now that they were surrounded by the comforts of home and what family had survived and been freed from their own frontline posts.


All told, the medic reported, the hospital staff were experiencing great difficulty in providing care for casualties freshly evacuated from the new clashes with Kiri and Kumo while still caring for ninja in recovery.


"If you could increase the budget," the medical-nin began, the dark bags under his eyes almost purple against the pallor of his drained cheeks, "we could hire more orderlies and mundane physicians, allowing us to prioritize our more specialized care for the worst cases."


Resisting the temptation to deliver the statement from the Konoha Bank under the man's nose, the Hokage had promised to see what he could manage. As the man swayed his way out of the Academy's administration block, Orochimaru ordered one of his Anbu to shadow the man back to the hospital, lest he collapse in the middle of the road and make a scene of himself.


Then came a chuunin runner, straight arrived from the Eastern Front with a scroll in-hand bearing the seal of Jonin Commander Aburame himself.


Reluctantly, Orochimaru accepted the scroll and broke open the seal, finding, to his utter lack of surprise, nothing but more bad news.


Captain-Major Oyama was achieving fair to middling tactical victories and had even successfully pushed Kumo and the rest of the forces from Lightning out of the Mutosi Valley completely, asserting Fire control over a broad swath of the southwestern Land of Hot Springs. Unfortunately, he was experiencing great hardship in converting tactical success into anything like a strategic victory. While he had forced the enemy back, the Lightning Army had retreated in good order, without even abandoning their excess supplies or abandoning the wounded, to a new line of prepared defenses only thirty miles back. While the professional troops, their samurai and ninja, and their leaders escaped any sort of rout, the Lightning Army's leaders had left a few units behind in a sacrificial rearguard to busy the maw of the Captain-Major's army. Oyama had crushed them handedly, but nobody considered the annihilation of those offerings to be much of a triumph.


This inability to reinforce victory with victory, Jonin Commander Aburame was claiming, was a result of the continued threat presented by Kiri raiding parties disrupting the rear. Hit and run raids by small, fast-moving groups of nin were destroying supply caravans, burning villages, and massacring freshly-raised units of conscripts, restricting the flow of men and material to the battleline. This forced Konoha, in the person of Aburame Shikuro, to divert badly needed forces to the southern flank of the Front and to the interior in the hopes of intercepting the Kiri raiders.


Which is exactly the difficulty in dealing with that pack of corsairs, Orochimaru thought, disgustedly throwing the scroll down on the desk. They are fast and aggressive, correctly reasoning that the best time to hit your enemy is when they aren't expecting it and the best way to hit them is hard.


Of course, that means that as soon as they're pinned down and forced to defend themselves, they're instantly on the back foot. Not to mention that, for a group so masterful at executing ambushes, Kiri are awful at responding to being ambushed. Highly stratified, constantly afraid of their leaders and of their underlings in equal measure, hit them where they aren't expecting it and they all fall apart.


"Stick around for a reply," the Hokage told the waiting chuunin messenger, managing a level tone with an effort of will. "I will need to consult on this."


Feeling obscurely as if something else was required, just as the chuunin reached the door of the office he added, "I appreciate the prompt delivery. There is no need for you to wait outside my office. Go and enjoy lunch somewhere; tell them to send your bill to the Hokage's Office."


"Thank you, Lord Hokage!"


Before the young woman's footfalls had faded away down the hallway, an Anbu was already crouching before Orochimaru, summoned with a flick of the wrist.


"Go find Lord Fugaku; tell him that I require his attendance at once."


The Uchiha have been oh so dearly yearning for aa chance to prove their worth to Konoha on the field of battle. With the children back from the frontline as well as the less severely wounded veterans back in Konoha, the Military Police will not require their full strength to preserve Konoha's security. I could cut their garrison temporarily down to a mere fifth…


Which would give me fifty-odd Uchiha clan members, each with an activated Sharingan at minimum, to deploy to the southeastern borderlands. Alone in his office, Orochimaru didn't bother resisting the temptation to lick his lips in eager anticipation. How thoughtful of Kiri to provide that clan with a perfect opportunity to play to their strengths and to strengthen Konoha's cohesion to boot!

---

"Your tea, Lord Hokage."


"Thank you, Mikoto," said Orochimaru, accepting the steaming cup. "There really isn't any need for all of the formalities, though. Please, take a seat."


For a moment, Uchiha Fugaku's better half hesitated indecisively, torn between tradition and aching feet.


Custom dictated that a high-ranking visitor to a ninja clan was served only by the household of their host, both to reinforce the social bonds of hospitality and so that, should poison make its way into the visitor's cup, the lives of the hosting shinobi's family would be immediately forfeit. As Fugaku's son was only four, his wife Mikoto was the only member of his household available to pour the tea and keep the plate of refreshments stocked.


However, Mikoto was also heavily pregnant and so encumbered that Orochimaru fully expected her to give birth within the week.


It was that great weight and the pressure it put on her poor feet, to say nothing of her back, shoulders, and everything else, that decided matters. With an undisguised groan of relief, Mikoto nearly collapsed down into the chair next to her husband, joining him around the kitchen table of their home. Far from the grandeur of the Hyuuga or even the darkly appointed banquet hall the Uchiha Clan generally greeted important visitors in, and even a pace below the formal dining room of Fugaku's own house, the choice to seat their visitor where the couple regularly ate indicated the informality of this meeting. There would be no record kept, nor would it appear on anybody's official appointment book. There were only three Konoha ninja sharing tea in this room, nothing of note.


Of course, considering the identities of the three seated at the table, nobody would ever believe anything of the sort.


"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Fugaku," Orochimaru said, turning back to face the one called "Evil Eye" by the enemies of Konoha.


"Think nothing of it," the Uchiha clanhead replied with his typical sternness. "But, would it be accurate to say that you did not just come to the Uchiha District for light conversation, Lord Hokage?"


"Sadly," breathed Orochimaru, "you are correct. This is no mere social visit. Not that I expect you mistook it for such."


"It is… difficult to imagine you on a social visit," Fugaku admitted, prompting a mildly forceful exhalation from his wife, almost certainly a concealed snort of amusement.


"True enough," the Snake Sannin readily agreed. His proclivity for occupying his free hours with further work was hardly a great secret. "In that case, to business."


"To business," agreed Fugaku. "What has brought you to my door today, Lord?"


"Hmm…" Orochimaru took a sip of his tea, savoring the bouquet and the flavor. It was quite good. "Well, there are two matters that I must urgently discuss with you, but the Hokage has only come to discuss the second matter with you.


"The first matter is, unfortunately, only between myself and the head of the Uchiha."


"...An interesting distinction," Fugaku said after a moment, his stoic face betraying nothing. Next to him, Mikoto peered into Orochimaru's pale face, her dark eyes alive with prying intelligence. "In that case, Orochimaru of Konoha, White Serpent, let us discuss the first matter."


"Shimura Danzo." Orochimaru uttered the name carefully, enunciating the syllables with the deliberation of a gambler placing a hand down on the table to answer a call, five cards all faced upwards.


Then, it was his turn to peer over the rim of his cup at the Uchihas, sampling their reactions.


Oh yes, they both know that name. That much was clear, even through Fugaku's noted stoicism. Mikoto, her face alive with the typical Uchiha impetuousness, flashed with distaste and, unmistakably, fear.


"I see that the Root's activities are far from unknown to you," Orochimaru softly observed, placing his cup down on the table and relishing, ever so slightly, the defiance of speaking that once-sealed name aloud in the company of the uninitiated. "I take it that you both have met Lord Shimura at some point or another?"


"Yes," Fugaku replied shortly, his face carved out of granite. All of the emotion he wasn't showing appeared to have found its expression in Mikoto's grimace, though.


"I see that he was as charming and personable in these encounters as I would have expected," nodded Orochimaru, his tongue flicking out from between his lips. "Well, that saves me the need for explanationsss, I suppose.


"While I was assigned to his Root Foundation, I implanted a Sharingan in his right eye socket. As the head of the Uchiha Clan, I thought you should be informed of this matter."


In an instant, the pleasant chill of the autumn afternoon plummeted as icy rage roiled from the outraged Uchiha. As before, Fugaku remained outwardly stoic, but Mikoto reflected his true emotions outwards, all indignant surprise and offended anger.


Unphased, Orochimaru allowed the killing intent to wash over him in waves, sitting placidly and politely as he gave the clanhead and his wife time to recollect themselves.


After a full minute, the fury emanating out from Fugaku ebbed away as the Uchiha leader reasserted his self-control. Reluctantly, Mikoto followed her husband's lead, but her lips remained pinched and her brow furled as she glared bitter promises at Orochimaru from across the table.


If she wasn't pregnant, I suspect she would leap across the table to throttle me, Orochimaru thought, wryly amused. As it is… Well, I could probably escape before she cornered me.


Hardly a dignified spectacle, the Hokage fleeing from a heavily pregnant woman. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.


"Why…" Fugaku's voice was like a grinding stone, rough and grainy with poorly concealed emotion. "Why are you telling us this?"


Already moved past why I did it, Orochimaru noted. That saves some time. Besides, it's hardly like he needs to ask – we all must do distasteful things, if ordered. Not that the job was particularly distasteful, but the principle remains unchanged.


"Lord Danzo enjoyed a great deal of latitude under the administration of my predecessor," Orochimaru said instead. "I mean to change this. I will not continence any operation not approved and overseen by my office.


"As you might expect, the Root is displeased with the prospect of losing their operational autonomy."


"Blackmail," Mikoto surmised, almost spitting the word. "You figured that Danzo would try to blackmail you with all of your past misdeeds. You sought to circumvent him by revealing all of your wrongdoings yourself."


All? Orochimaru scoffed to himself. Hardly. Even if I were so inclined, I quite literally don't have enough hours in the day to tally all the many misdeeds I executed in his miserable name. But the one that Danzo specifically said he would try to use as a collar? Oh yes. I have nothing but time on my schedule to reveal that particular little piece of dirty laundry.


"Quite the insightful wife you have," Orochimaru remarked to Fugaku, before addressing Mikoto. "Yes, I suspected Lord Danzo would attempt to undermine my authority before I could undermine his. Telling you that he has a Sharingan – admittedly, thanks to my skills as a surgeon – turns the issue around by revealing one of the old spider's many trump cards."


"...You said you had two issues to discuss," Fugaku pointed out, his voice almost back to its usual steadiness. "What was the second?"


"The second is a topic I need to discuss as the Hokage," Orochimaru reminded him. "Did you have anything else to say about what I revealed to you? If not, I'll consider the matter closed and move on."


Fugaku clenched his jaw shut, the lines in his brow deepening over his eyes. He breathed in and out, once, then twice, the exhalations snorting out like an angry bull.


Mikoto set a hand on his forearm, and Fugaku closed his eyes.


When he opened those dread eyes again, the Uchiha's stoic calm had returned.


"The eye you implanted into Shimura Danzo's skull," Fugaku began, "whose was it? Where did it come from?"


"I have no idea," admitted Orochimaru, voice calmly reasonable and, for once, entirely honest, a novelty Orochimaru found amusing. "Danzo arrived at my laboratory with the eye in a vial full of saline solution. It was obvious to me that it was a Sharingan and thus had been sourced from one of your clan, but who the donor had been and when the eye had been extracted are beyond me.


"If I had to hazard a guess…?" Orochimaru offered the couple his splayed hands, to show how little he could offer them in this regard, "I would suspect that one of Lord Danzo's Root agents, embedded in Konoha's ranks, harvested the eye from a fallen Uchiha on some battlefield somewhere. He probably concealed the crime by spiriting the body away for further harvesting or by mutilating the face, depending on the condition of the sam-… the corpse."


"So it was not taken from a living Uchiha?" demanded Mikoto. "You're saying that Danzo doesn't have one of our kinsmen chained up somewhere to harvest his organs? Are you sure?"


"...I said nothing of the sort," Orochimaru replied, slightly annoyed. "I simply said that I have no idea where the eye came from, nor whose it had once been. It is entirely possible that Shimura Danzo has an entire cellblock full of kidnapped Konoha nin from whom he harvests organs; it would not be out of the man's character in the slightest."


In fact, I know for certain that he absolutely had a private reserve of captured enemy nin at one point, because those were the usual subjects for my own experiments, but I wouldn't doubt that he's "encouraged" a few from the Leaf to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the village.


"But," he concluded, "I cannot say for certain that any such cellblock exists, nor that one of your clan would be captive there, nor that any hypothetical captive would still be alive at this point. I implanted the eye years ago, and Danzo is not one overly fond of leaving loose ends hanging."


"I see." And now it was Fugaku's turn to place a hand on his wife's arm, quelling the angry response she was already opening her mouth to deliver. "Thank you for… providing me with this information. We can move on."


Not much to be done now and no use ranting about it now and potentially losing future leverage, Orochimaru decided, assessing Fugaku's probable thought process. Fine by me.


"Alright," nodded the Hokage. "On to other matters, then. Lord Fugaku, in your opinion as the Chief of Military Police and the designated leader of defense efforts in the case of an attack on the village, what is the minimum garrison required to act as a defense force for Konoha itself?"


"That would depend on who is attacking Konoha, and in what numbers." Fugaku crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, seeming to consider the question. "Also, how many reservists and allied forces are available for muster."


"Assume no allies," came the prompt reply, "and assume the current population of Konoha. You can freely draw from the students, the pensioners, and any convalescent capable of independent movement, as well as any inactive shinobi within the walls.


"As for the attackers…" Orochimaru drummed his fingers against the table, running through potential threats to the village, including bandits, surprise raids from Kumo, Kiri, or even Suna, and treachery on the part of nobles within the Land of Fire. "Three scenarios: A small number of well-disciplined ninja under a skilled leader, a medium force of ninja or samurai backed by ashigaru, and a medium force of poorly-disciplined rabble backed by ninja. The first force has skill with stealth, the second force initially appears to be friendly."


"I see…" Fugaku furrowed his brow, his anger fully displaced for the moment by professional interest in the question. "So, a strike team, an army likely warranting the command of a Captain-Minor, and a bandit corps led by missing-nin. Quite the range of threats, Lord Hokage."


"We live in a threatening world," the Hokage replied with the calm solidity he recalled from his predecessor. "We must prepare to meet it."


"The bandits would be the least worrisome," Mikoto said thoughtfully, cupping her cheek in her hand. "Even with backing by deserters and rogues, the majority of the force will almost certainly be underequipped and undertrained, and will certainly be poorly disciplined. Even if their ninja allies manage to breach a wall or seize a gate, the chaff would be minimally effective so long as the defenders maintain discipline."


"And so long as a clear route to retreat is left open," her husband added. "That sort of rat will flee the moment the battle shifts against them, provided we allow it. Once they start running, the battle's over. Provided, of course, that the missing-nin with them are only the usual genin wash-outs or low chuunin incompetents, I would require no more than twenty of my Military Police to hold Konoha, backed by the children returned from the war."


They aren't children, Orochimaru almost said, keenly remembering the day he stopped being a child himself. They are shinobi and kunoichi of Konoha. From the moment they tied the hitai-ate around their foreheads, they were children no longer.


It didn't seem like the reminder would contribute anything, though, and so instead he buried those dusty, irrelevant memories and simply beckoned for Fugaku to continue.


"The other two scenarios are more difficult to assess, Lord," Fugaku said, obliging the silent order. "Both include numerous unknowns, and per your scenario, both involve elements of a surprise attack. So, only active ninja would be on hand initially, blunting the response."


"So noted," the Hokage nodded, unmoved. It was far from the first time that any of the three had dealt with insufficient information when planning missions, after all. "Continue."


"For the strike team, assuming a force of five squads plus a jonin in command, I would want no fewer than forty to pin them in place while I handled the leader." Fugaku rapped his knuckles firmly on the tabletop, punctuating his point. "That said, if Mikoto was here too, and Kushina and at least a few dozen other family members and students I could scramble together, I would settle for an active garrison of twenty-five to thirty. That's the absolute limit, though."


A full five squads just to handle an equal number of attackers? Orochimaru was incredulous, though he didn't let a hint of his surprise touch his face. That seems far too conservative of an estimate, particularly if Kushina and Mikoto are both on hand! What, does he have so little faith in the advantage of the defender, in our familiarity with our own homes and in our capacity to draw up the population?


Orochimaru met Fugaku's eyes and found no sign of give in those black pebbles, nor any hint of a bluff. He was forced to contend with the unhappy fact that perhaps his subject expert hadn't taken complete leave of his senses, never a proposition that a leader receiving an unwelcome opinion liked to accept.


Still… Both women are recognized as jonin and Kushina has her prisoner and her contract to further supplement her strength. While Mikoto has been on the reserve registry since she married Fugaku, I have little doubt she's been keeping in practice despite her pregnancy.


So, is Fugaku underrating their strength, am I overestimating something, or is expecting objectivity from the man when his wife's well-being could be on the line asking too much?


If so, Orochimaru's eyes flicked to Mikoto, who had begun to mutely police up the tea service, a clear sign that his welcome in the Uchiha household would soon expire, that indicates that Mikoto is a weakness for Fugaku. I had thought that his son was his biggest concern, but if he is so worried about the welfare of his wife…


"As you say," the Hokage acknowledged, nodding respectfully at the Uchiha clanhead. "Although I would point out that my teacher is still in residence within Konoha, as are quite a few other ninja of the past generations. But, I digress. What would it take to defend Konoha against a medium-sized army backed by several aristocratic musters and hired ninja in your estimation, Lord Fugaku?"


"Everything Konoha could give," Fugaku immediately replied. "Holding the wall against a force of that size and sophistication would require more resources than the Uchiha Military Police can reasonably muster. In such cases, the entire village would be called to arms. Hopefully that would be enough to hold out until news reached the fronts."


A reasonable answer, conceded Orochimaru, although not exactly a helpful one.


"Very well," said the Hokage, drawing himself up and placing his hands upon the table. "Thank you, Lord Uchiha, for your comprehensive answer."


"All in service to Konoha," Fugaku replied shortly, bobbing his head in an abbreviated bow.


"I asked that question because I needed your honest assessment regarding how much of the Uchiha Clan could be sent into the field without endangering our home," explained the Hokage. "Based on your answer, I think I can cut to the chase and just say, 'all of it.'"


"All of it?" Mikoto raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Who would take charge of the defense of Konoha in that case, Lord Hokage?"


For a moment, Orochimaru eyed the Uchiha, wondering if there was some punchline he was missing.


"I would," he carefully enunciated. "In case it had slipped your mind, a kage's hat comes with a great deal of paperwork attached. Regretfully, it is very unlikely that I will have the opportunity to leave the village any time in the near future. Which means that I can keep my Anbu busy by handing the usual duties of the Military Police over to their care."


Fugaku clenched his jaw at that, sudden tension on his features. Not quite the reaction Orochimaru had hoped for.


He probably suspects that I am trying to cut the Uchiha out of their domestic power.


It would be a decent maneuver, Orochimaru had to admit. Send all the Uchiha out on a wild goose chase, "temporarily" hand the law enforcement powers entrusted to the clan over to his own loyal forces, and then let time cement the "temporary" solution into a new status quo.


"In our last meeting," the Hokage began, explaining his logic, "I promised you that an Uchiha would soon occupy a high position in the continued war against our enemies, and this is the first opportunity I will extend.


"I intend to create a rapid response force, mobile enough to reach any point in the Land of Fire within three days and strong enough to annihilate any flanking or raiding maneuver conducted by the likes of our enemies, with a particular eye on the scum from Kiri.


"Naturally, Lord Uchiha, when I wondered who would serve as the head and shoulders of this proposed unit, I thought immediately of you and your clan. If, however, you fear that the resulting unit would be overly specialized, I could see my way clear to trading several squads of Anbu to your reactionary unit in exchange for the continuing services of a division of the Uchiha Military Police in maintaining order within Konohagakure. I could also approach Lord Hiashi and inquire if he would consent to lending his skills to your forces."


Which would mean that any attempt to freeze the Uchiha out of Konoha politics would also be interpreted as an assault on the Hyuuga by everybody in the village, most especially by Hyuuga Hiashi himself. And he would most certainly not stand for any such offense.


"Would you take this assignment?"


For a long moment, Uchiha Fugaku sat quietly, brooding. Behind him, Mikoto stood, her arms over her husband's shoulders and her hands placed protectively over his chest.


And she's still glaring at me, noted Orochimaru with mild annoyance. Really, I feel like I'm being more than generous here. I haven't offered any insult to her or her clan. And if she's still upset about that other thing, well… Danzo had an order and I didn't have a good reason not to carry it out.


Besides, it was an interesting challenge to align the dojutsu with his chakra channels to guarantee functionality. I learned a great deal about how the Sharingan operates from it, so it was hardly a total loss.


"I would need to know more about the details of this Rapid Response Force, including its composition and remit," rumbled "Evil-Eye" Fugaku, who was just as stoic as ever, though Orochimaru could clearly see the interest veining through the dark stone of his eyes. "But… I wish to tentatively accept your offer, Lord Hokage."


The Uchiha leader paused, and Orochimaru opened his mouth to reply, thinking he was done. But then, looking like he was about to swallow his own tongue, Fugaku added, "On behalf of my clan… I thank you for this opportunity to serve my village."


"Of course," said Orochimaru, rising to his feet under Mikoto's baleful gaze. "Anything for Konoha, after all."

 

[Readhead]

(Thank you to ScarredPunLover, MetalDragon, Sunny, and KoreanWriter for their help brainstorming and editing.)

"Jonin Namikaze. Lady Kushina. Please, take a seat."

"Thank you, Lord Hokage," murmured Namikaze Minato, appropriately and pointedly deferential. Next to him, his wife gingerly lowered herself down into the provided chair without so much as a whisper of gratitude, though the look on Uzumaki Kushina's face told Orochimaru that the chair with its comfortable cushion, at least, was appreciated.

From the bulwark of his desk, the Fourth Hokage eyed the man who had been the odds-on favorite to pick up the hat, once the Third set it aside. It was fascinating, in a way, to see one of the deadliest men in all the elemental nations fret over his grumbling wife, much to her apparent annoyance, seeing how she batted his hand away. It was almost enough to make you forget that the man had snuffed out at least a thousand souls with his own two hands over the course of perhaps three hours.

The very portrait of a doting husband, Orochimaru reflected as the couple settled in. Not that he wasn't always doting on Kushina, but now that her delivery date is so near, his attention has been monopolized completely. Nor does her focus drift far from him.

How peculiar.

Officially, Orochimaru had known Minato and, to a lesser extent, Kushina for well over a decade, having first met the boy shortly after he had been assigned to Jiraiya's first, and so far only, genin team. It had only been an acquaintanceship in the vaguest of terms, though; Orochimaru had been neck deep with Danzo at that point and was nearly lost in the sea of intriguing projects and dull yet mandatory missions, without any time to spare for his teammate's students, especially not the least promising of the lot.

Not that he'd had much time for bonding with the younger generations, and especially not for the younger generations who came attached to his old teammates.

Not after Nawaki.

….I remember when so much as brushing up against the edges of that memory would make me flinch, the White Snake mused, and wondered when he had stopped feeling anything at the recollection. It wasn't like he was anything special, neither in his talents nor in his end. He was far from the first child I saw step on a mine while playing shinobi when they should still have been in the Academy…

Not that he was a child, Orochimaru reminded himself. All who bear the Leaf upon their brow are ninja, adult enough to kill and be killed.

In Nawaki's case, though, he felt that old truism fell flat.

The faded memory of Tsunade's little brother beaming up at "Uncle Orochi," all lingering baby fat and always glowing cheeks, made it very difficult to find any trace of the supposed adult that bore the name Senju Nawaki.

That thought was enough to hurt, just a bit. A pang. Nawaki as Orochimaru had last seen him was generic, just another small, mutilated corpse. Just meat.

The Nawaki that had been, though…

"Lord Hokage?" Minato asked, and Orochimaru realized that the couple had stopped fussing over one another almost a minute earlier while he had just stared straight ahead, utterly preoccupied. "You wanted to see us?"

"I did," Orochimaru snapped, shoving Nawaki back into his box, the same box that held the memories of all of the other children who had donned their hitai-ates in the same raising ceremony as he, Jiraiya, and Tsunade had donned theirs, a full eight years before either of the two ninja sitting before him would be born.

"I did," he said again, modulating his tone away from the unreasonable anger that had filled his voice at the interruption, from the realization that he had grown so lost in his memory that he'd had to be interrupted like some doddering old man and grasping after his usual silk-smooth voice. "Thank you both for coming."

"It's, uh… Not a problem," said Minato, an uncomfortable smile on his face. When Orochimaru failed to reply immediately, the Yellow Flash, dread of Konoha's enemies, chuckled awkwardly and rubbed at the back of his head until his wife lightly swatted at his arm and made him stop.

"I am relieved to hear that," said the Hokage. "You only returned back home a few days ago, didn't you, Jonin Namikaze. After so long at the front, I would hate to intrude upon your private family time…"

"I bet you would," grumbled Kushina, who looked rebellious. "Four months pining away without any company and then, before we can even set foot in the bedroom, you're dragging us back out again!"

Orochimaru raised a silent brow, half amused by her audacity.

"...Lord Hokage," she belatedly added.

"I did leave Kakashi to keep you company while I was gone," Minato pointed out in a soothing, reasonable tone.

Having heard Jiraiya use that exact same "soothing, reasonable tone" on Tsunade over many past occasions, Orochimaru winced.

"Kakashi wasn't the kind of company I was lonely for, ya know!" snarled the Jinchuuriki of the Nine-Tailed Fox, and for a moment, Orochimaru tasted an entirely new scent on the air, all burning hair and rotten blood. "Did you think that I'd all but drag Kakashi into our bedroom backwards, dearest husband?! Gah! You're such a moron, ya know, ya big dummy! You-"

Deciding to cut this interlude short, Orochimaru repeated himself, speaking over Kushina, whose voice had acquired a particular diatonic overlay, like two people were speaking through the same throat. "While I'm sure that much of Konoha would find all the sordid details of how your household conducts its bedroom affairs to be subject of the highest priority for gossip, there is a topic that I dare say might hold a sssliver higher priority."

The couple sobered immediately, both of their attentions returned fully to the Hokage.

"Of course, Lord Hokage," said Kushina, her voice clear and calm again, the sober kunoichi stepping forwards once more to take the young wife and mother-to-be's place. "What do you need from us?"

"According to Doctor Yamada," Orochimaru began, referencing the Konoha Hospital gynecological department's head, "you are due to give birth within a month, Lady Kushina. Five weeks at the outside."

"Yes," replied the jinchuuriki, voice professionally detached though her stony face betrayed her discomfort with the topic and…

Her fear? Orochimaru wondered, his tongue slipping out to taste the air again. Yes… She's afraid. Understandable, considering the mortality of first time mothers. It's enough to quail even the Red Hot Pepper.

"Congratulations." It seemed like the right thing to say, even though the work wasn't finished yet. Kushina stiffened slightly, so perhaps it hadn't been right after all.

Oh well. It wasn't like Orochimaru hadn't interacted with pregnant women before, but generally only in situations where the woman in question was dead or soon to be. Something to work on, perhaps.

"This is an important moment for Konoha as well," Orochimaru said, pressing on with his agenda and disregarding the strangely tense atmosphere that had cropped up. "The birth of the first child of the Yellow Flash and the last remaining Uzumaki will be yet another signal that the future of Konoha is strong, despite all who stand in our way. Your child will also represent a number of opportunities for the village, which I would be happy to discuss with you further.

"But most importantly of all, the birthing event represents a unique threat to the village."

Orochimaru leaned forward on his elbows and tented his fingers together. Neither Minato nor Kushina had said a word and their faces were the match for the carved heads of the Hokage Monument in impenetrability. Strange from the Yellow Flash and doubly strange from Uzumaki Kushina, whose fiery passion had long since grown into the stuff of legend.

"According to Jiraiya, speaking in his capacity as a master of Fuuinjutsu, the seal on the Kyuubi will weaken precipitously as soon as you enter labor, Lady Kushina. There is, he says, a very real possibility that the Fox will break free while your attention and strength are divided."

"I know." The words were bitten off, chopped short and shorn of any personal touch save, under the surface, that same lurking fear. "Lady Mito told me as much years ago, before she passed the Fox onto me."

"She was a wise woman," Orochimaru acknowledged, tipping his head to the memory of the Shodai Hokage's lady wife. "I am surprised that this… information… never made it to my ears until Jiraiya advised me of his worries some days ago."

It had been at their regular twice a week lunch-time meeting when Jiraiya had casually dropped that bomb. Thinking about Akimi's idea of a parasitical barrier technique, Orochimaru had inquired after scenarios where seals applied to people could be destabilized.

This really is something Teacher should have warned me about when I took office, Orochimaru thought, fuming behind his benevolently smiling mask. Perhaps the document briefing me on the matter simply got lost in the shuffle… I really do need to look into finding a secretary.

"Sorry about that, Lord Hokage," Minato, of all people, said, once more looking abashed. "Kushina and I already had a talk with Lord Third, back when we first learned that… Well, that we were going to be parents." The Yellow Flash failed to entirely suppress the foolish smile that crossed his face. "He made it clear at the time that secrecy was the village's highest priority. He was worried that someone might try to, well, you know… Take advantage of the birth to unleash the Fox."

"...Was he?" The inquiry glided like silk over Orochimaru's tongue, utterly mismatched to the alarmed clamor abruptly filling his head. "Did he perhaps venture any guesses or hints about who might interfere?"

"He just said that it all needed to stay hush-hush," grumbled Kushina, heat touching her face. She was looking down at her hands, knotted in her lap. "He and his advisors all said that it'd be best if nobody knew about it until it was, ya know, all said and done."

Utterly impractical.

Orochimaru would never pride himself on being an intelligencer on par with his old teammate, but he was hardly a novice to the world of spycraft either. From either side of the equation, he'd conducted plenty of reconnaissance missions in his early career and, in later years, had come to consider himself a very skilled interrogator, capable of extracting useful information from even the most tightly sealed lips.

There was absolutely no way that there were no agents or spies working in Konoha on behalf of the various Fire samurai clans and the foreign Hidden Villages. Considering how very visibly Kushina was showing her pregnancy, there was absolutely no chance that every pair of prying eyes had overlooked her coming maternity.

"Interesting," the Hokage said out loud, privately vowing to have a conversation with his Teacher. It had been far too long and he had several bones to pick with his predecessor. "So, Jonin Namikaze, tell me about what the plan was for the day of the birth. What security measures did you have in mind to keep interlopers out and who would be on hand to attend to Kushina during the birth? I assume you would be there both as the father and as a seal master ready to stabilize the Kyuubi's prison, should the need have arised."

"Well…"

As Minato layed out the scheme for a secret birth hidden away in a cave in the nearby mountains, attended upon only by a squad of Anbu, the Third's wife Biwako, and a standby medic-nin, Orochimaru felt his respect for his Teacher dwindle by an appreciable degree.

How could you possibly consider such a plan to be solid, Teacher? Orochimaru wondered, feeling almost beside himself with disappointment and an odd, almost furtive anxiety. The very idea that a small force of Anbu would be best because they would be harder to detect completely ignores how much chakra would inevitably have leaked from the Fox's prison as the seal weakened! Any sensor worth a damn could follow that smell of burnt hair and blood straight to the cave! And to have only Minato on hand to keep the beast in its cage, even when he'd be compromised by having his newborn and his wife on hand, is relying overly much on the singular skill of the Yellow Flash and ignoring the basic rule of never fully relying on a single blade!

"I sssee," said Orochimaru, once the explanation concluded. "We will be doing… none of that."

"Eh?" gasped Kushina, brow rising in surprise, just as her husband asked, "Lord Hokage? What do you mean?"

Combat types, both of them, Orochimaru observed, rolling his eyes. The one a walking bomb, the other capable of stopping the enemy vanguard in their boots. Neither have ever needed to practice the art of the spy or the scout, and it shows.

"Hmm… How do I put thisss…" the Hokage closed his eyes, his flickering tongue betraying his agitation. Such a stupid plan could only have led to calamity, and he had almost walked straight into it without realizing the peril! "Thisss plan, it is… if I merely called it a spectacular example of foolish optimism, I would be doing it a kindnesss.

"More accurately? I might be tempted to call such a thing treassson."

"Treason?" Kushina started.

"If I saw that my enemies had attempted anything as breathtakingly temerous as this plan," the Hokage smirked, "I might be inspired to send them a gift basssket as an expression of gratitude for the mossst generous invitation to slit their throatsss." His smile dropped. "To find out that my own security forcesss thought this was sssufficient to guard some of the most valuable shinobi in Konoha at their most vulnerable hour…"

Almost biting his tongue, Orochimaru forced himself to cut short the rant overflowing his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath, mastering himself and letting his blood cool.

"So… It sounds like you have a different idea in mind?" Minato ventured. "Lord."

"That's right," Orochimaru nodded, and allowed himself to grin.

This fool is so lucky that he didn't get the hat.

"For startersss… The Kyuubi must not be allowed to roam free for any amount of time, even if it is some distance away in the wildernesssss.

"It will return to Konoha. Evil alwaysss comes back home."

Minato and Kushina glanced at one another, his intent lost upon neither of them.

"One way or another," said the Hokage, "there will be no rampage of the Nine-Tailsss. Do you understand, Lady Kushina? Jonin Namikaze."

"...Yes, Lord Hokage," said Kushina, her voice commendably level. "I understand exactly what you mean. You don't need to worry, ya know, but… I understand."

"Good." Orochimaru nodded smoothly, and turned his focus to the still silent Minato. "Jonin Namikaze?"

"...I understand, Lord Hokage," Minato admitted, eyes pressed tightly closed. "Anything for the village, right? Yeah… I understand."

"Good!" Orochimaru repeated, almost cheerily. "With that in mind, let us do everything in my power to set out to avert that scenario. You both are far too useful to Konoha to squander so readily, especially when we have an easy counter on hand."

"An easy counter?" Minato's eyes popped open. "Uhm… What are you talking about? Lord Hokage."

"Didn't you have an Uchiha in your genin team?" Orochimaru peered across the desk, staring at the guilelessly blinking face of his would-be rival for authority. "Jonin Namikaze… Minato… Who better to keep the Fox penned in its kennel than an Uchiha? If the beast shows any sign of ripping free from your wife, its container, the first and last thing it will see in our mortal world will be a Sharingan."

"Ah!" Kushina's eyes, hard with resolve, lit up like beacons. "This is perfect, ya know! I can get Mikoto to help out! She'd love it!"

"...She probably would," murmured Orochimaru, the almost ursine protectiveness in the Uchiha's eyes shining clear in his memory. "Or perhaps Lord Fugaku. Regardless, an Uchiha will be on hand. This is not negotiable."

"Phew!" sighed Minato. "Fine by me! I've got no problem with that!"

"Jiraiya will also be there," added Orochimaru. "There is nothing he could do to be more useful to the village than ensuring the continued stability of your seal, Lady Kushina. And," he looked sidelong at the Yellow Flash, "that would give your husband more time to comfort you in your pain while his teacher keeps an eye on your seal."

"...I can handle the pain just fine, ya know," muttered Kushina, looking away from both the Hokage and her husband, but the taste of her fear faded somewhat on Orochimaru's tongue.

"There is also the matter of external security," Orochimaru continued on, the strokes of the plan crystalizing in his head as he described them aloud. "There will be no need for free passage in or out of the birthing area. If need be, I can task a Yamanaka to the Anbu squadron guarding the perimeter to pass messages. This will permit the use of a sealing barrier to cut the birthing area off from the outside world entirely, so long as the one maintaining the barrier from within breathes."

"Do you have anybody in mind for that?" asked Minato. "That would take a pretty considerable range to cover an entire house, right?"

"True," admitted the Hokage, "but the barrier in question is not difficult to master. My ssstudent, Metani Akimi, has already mastered the technique and he is still a genin. I think I will extend an invitation to Lord Hiashi; if the Uchiha are involved with the birth of Konoha's next jinchuuriki, I suspect that the Hyuuga Clan would be slighted if I did not offer them an opportunity to participate as well."

"Ya know…" said Kushina, her voice just a bit weak, "this is an awful lot of people you're talking about, Lord Fourth…"

"An awful lot of people," Orochimaru incredulously mouthed, and gave the veteran jonin, who by dint of that rank and by her status as the container of the most powerful demon known to mankind really should have known better, a distinctly unimpressed look.

Kushina looked back, blinking and inquisitive and apparently not comprehending in the least why her senses were telling her that the snake seated before her had begun to writhe, metaphorically speaking, with frustrated annoyance.

Irritated, the Hokage glanced almost beseechingly over at her husband, hoping he would find some understanding of his frustration in the man who, had the pendulum of circumstance swung the other way, would be sitting in this very chair at this exact moment.

"Eh…" Minato managed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "She's got a point, Lord. Doesn't this seem a bit… much?"

…This is the man whom Teacher considered the best fit for his office, Orochimaru stared, feeling his eyes throb in their sockets. For my office.

Does that make him the second best man for the job in Konoha? Third, perhaps, behind Jiraya, who would never accept the hat?

The thought was sour as he chewed it over, the two openly worried gazes reaching out to him over the table only making the whole thing more galling.

Kami save us all.

"I will be blunt," the Hokage stated, staring unblinkingly at the two from across the desk. "Asss I doubt that anything lessss than complete candor will serve to penetrate your thick skullsss, you utter moronsss."

Kushina bristled, but before she could utter a sound, the Hokage gestured for silence, only continuing once it was clear that the jinchuuriki would hold her tongue. For now.

"For the two of you, the date of Lady Kushina'sss delivery will be the start of an entire new era for your family," Orochimaru began. "Hopefully," he added, "a lengthy one spanning the birthsss of an entire platoon's worth of healthy, powerful new recruitsss to guarantee Konoha's future prosperity and security."

"An entire platoon?!" Kushina squawked, eyes wide and alarmed and her face flushed. "Easy for you to say, ya know!"

A quelling glance from the Hokage and a comforting pat on the knee from her husband restored silence to the office atop the Academy.

"For me," Orochimaru went on, voice sibilant and laden with menace, "it will be a day marked either by historic triumph, or equally historic tragedy. In the latter case, the devastation inflicted upon this village could be unprecedented in scale."

Both members of his little audience were silent, their eyes fixed upon his with an attention and focus he found gratifying.

"Not since the darkest days of the First War has Konoha's situation been quite so precariousss," the Hokage continued. "As matters stand, we are in a war to the hilt against Kumo; the scorn exhibited towards my predecessor's peace-mongering and the contempt for sworn oathsss exhibited by Kumogakure all but guaranteesss that there can be no peace with them save what we dictate at the point of a knife. Iwa, Konoha's unrelenting enemy since the daysss of the Lord First, licksss its wounds and preparesss to leap back into the struggle at the time of their choosing, the 'Peace without Rancor' be damned."

Orochimaru's mouth twisted as he resisted the urge to spit. The name of his Teacher's greatest blow against Konoha was repellent upon his tongue.

"Further," the Hokage continued, straightening his robe, "it should come as no surprise to either of you that the common front against Kumogakure and Iwagakure's aggression is quite shallow, especially outside of Konoha's own walls. The rest of the Land of Fire, most especially the samurai clansss, eagerly anticipate the diminishment of Konoha. Whether that diminishment arrives through financial collapse, battlefield defeat, or the whittling down of our numbers, matters not in the slightessst to those vultures. When the war ends, if not before, there will be squabbles between the victors as we jockey for the spoilsss of victory. The daimyo is too weak to prevent this, and indeed, control over the daimyo will be a key portion of those spoils.

"If something should go noticeably wrong in Konoha, say, should the greatest of the bijuu suddenly break free from its bondage in the heart of the village, consequentially killing both the last known Uzumaki and annihilating her child, can you imagine the ramificationsss?" The Hokage's voice was as cold as the grave, utterly serious and entirely controlled. "The war effort would collapse as ninja streamed home to rescue loved ones and to drive the beast away. Any credibility or influence we have over our rivals, domestic and foreign, would vanish in an instant.

"Do you underssstand the magnitude of this event?

"Do you underssstand the magnitude of failure?"

Minato and Kushina nodded silently, eyes haunted with the same dread that had filled the Hokage from the start of this conversation.

"Good," Orochimaru leaned back and allowed himself to blink. The two jonin slumped slightly, as if they had been released from some jutsu pinning them in place. "Then you can underssstand why I am stuffing my sleeves with every trick I can smuggle from the village.

"If we are 'lucky', our many enemies lurking in the shadows will manage to miss the largest chakra signature on the continent being escorted by the most famous killer on the continent on the night where she will launch a signal bonfire saying 'I am at my weakest'. Perhaps this will simply be a very boring night filled with the entirely expected amount of blood and screams for a newborn child." Orochimaru smiled unkindly, "I, for one, do not believe in 'luck'. I believe in winning."

For a moment, silence filled the office again as his guests digested the apocalyptic diatribe. For his part, the Hokage felt somewhat mollified by clear respect the two jonin who perhaps most represented the future of the village were demonstrating in the face of his concerns.

"Regardlesss," said Orochimaru, breaking the lingering pause, "you are welcome to consider this plan and develop it further to best suit your needsss. The stabilization of your seal, Lady Kushina, and the safe and secure birth of your child is of the highest priority to the future of Konoha. In regards to the other matters we need to discuss…"

Noting that the nods his audience returned were barely a step above perfunctory and the glassy, shocked look in their eyes, Orochimaru shelved the remainder of his plan for another day. It would keep.

And besides, he thought, remembering what Kushina had implied about his interrupting summons, I should not keep them from… consoling… one another. Or from laying the foundation for a new Uzumaki Clan fully allegiant to Konohagakure.

"Will wait until some other time," he smoothly pivoted. "As for today…

"Please, do not allow me to detain you any further."

---

The Sarutobi Clan was revered in Konoha as the first clan to join the Senju-Uchiha pact, and as the clan who had truly cemented the foundation of the village built upon the alliance of those two most potent clans. Ever the recruiters and the unifiers, it had been the clanhead of the Sarutobi who had convinced the Nara, the Akimichi, and the Yamanaka to set aside their old enmities and join Konoha all at once, so none of the three could claim precedence over the others.

Sarutobi Sasuke, Orochimaru thought, reaching for the name as he approached the gate barring the rest of the world from the Sarutobi Compound. Unlike the sturdy wall surrounding the Hyuuga Compound, this gate was purely ceremonial, flanked only by the thick groves of bamboo lining either side of the entrance path. Teacher's father.

He had not survived the First Great War, Orochimaru recalled, though the details of Sarutobi Sasuke's fate escaped him.

"Lord Hokage," the Sarutobi clansman on gate duly acknowledged, greeting him respectfully but with a straight back, without any hint of deference or a bow.

Partially the allowances made to a guard on duty, partially the famous unflappability of the so-called "Monkey Clan."

"I am here to see Sarutobi Hiruzen, my predecessor," said the Hokage, standing tall in the white and red robes of state, crowned with the iron hat of his office.

He did not identify Hiruzen as his teacher. Something, Orochimaru saw, that was not lost on the guard.

"So you are, Lord," acknowledged the guard, the slight tightness around his eyes the only sign of the rising tension. "He is in the rear garden. I believe you know the way?"

"I do," agreed Orochimaru, his usual sibilance clipped, the words short. He had visited his Teacher's home many times over their decades-long relationship. One of the very earliest bonding exercises between the newly formed Team Hiruzen had been weeding the Sarutobi Clan's extensive garden of medicinal herbs. "I know the way."

"Go, Lord," the guard said, swinging the symbolic gates wide. "Be welcome in the stronghold of the Sarutobi."

Orochimaru did not acknowledge the pledge of hospitality; he was already in motion, sandals crunching on the graveled path he had first set foot on more than a decade and a half before the Sarutobi manning the gate had even been born.

We were barely six, all three of us, he remembered, walking without seeing. All precocious, freshly graduated from the Academy and all with freshly minted hitai-ate riding our brows. All young, all keen… And all orphans at that. Jiraiya hadn't even had the mercy of knowing who his parents were in the first place… But the Second had died only the year before, and the First the year before him, and Tsunade's parents had both died before her grandfather.

And my parents…

Thirty-three years later, Orochimaru could still remember every minute of it, and every detail. Try as he might, he had never managed to forget that bleak spring day.

All that had changed over the intervening decades had been his perspective.

What had happened to his parents, whom he recognized with the benefit of experience as a clanless shinobi of no importance and a moderately successful farmer, a mere civilian, was utterly trivial in the grander scope of things.

They had suffered, yes, but Orochimaru himself had caused men and women to suffer more.

They had begged, pleaded, and wailed, all before the quivering eyes of a child who had, unbeknownst to the Suna nin raiding the little village on the western border of the Land of Fire, been shoved by his mother under a pile of old sacks just before his father was bodily hurled through the door of their shack, but Orochimaru had heard women offer their children and men their woman through their shrieks, anything to get the pain to stop.

That his mother never made such an offer, had never betrayed his hiding spot, had more to do with the clear relish the raiders took in their games, he suspected, and less to do with any great bravery on the feeble civilian's part. She would, perhaps, have made the offer eventually, had she still had the tongue and the teeth necessary to shape her formless shrieks into entreaties.

All together, nothing extraordinary.

Years later, Orochimaru had actually found mention of the scouring of that flyspeck village in an archived report. It had been listed along with twenty-three other villages and hamlets overrun by Suna raiders in that same year, all part of the escalating conflicts that had exploded into the First Great War.

In the grand scheme of things, utterly inconsequential.

At the time, to a three year old cowering on his belly like a snake, hidden under burlap and watching everything that happened to his mother and his father, it had been the end of the world.

Devastating.

Leaf nin had found him two days later. At first, the chuunin commanding the ragged squad of scouts following the plumes of smoke had ordered his men to leave the pale child still sitting by the mutilated bodies of a man and a woman in the ruined shack alone. The Sand nin, he had said, were still ahead of them and they had no time to carry a kid barely out of diapers with them.

He had been shocked when Orochimaru had addressed them properly, and had told them that his father had been a shinobi of the Leaf just like them.

A lie, of course, but enough of an excuse for a particularly softhearted Konoha nin to insist that the body of their comrade and his wife, and his still living son, had to return back home. The rest of the patrolling squad, worn ragged, had experienced an attack of altruism and backed their comrade, much to the annoyance of the chuunin in command, who soon found himself overwhelmed by the remainder of his squad.

They had turned their sandals for home, with a small pale boy clinging to the shoulders of his benefactor.

Leaving the invading Suna nin free to continue their rampage elsewhere, the man that small boy had become noted. Perhaps that list of twenty-four villages would have been a few entries shorter had that squad left me to starve beside my parents' bones.

As soon as his parents had found their resting place in Konoha's cemetery, buried under names manufactured by Orochimaru, having never known them as anything but "Mom" and "Dad," he had signed up for the Academy.

Three years later… I was assigned to Teacher. And, he thought, sandal crossing an invisible demarcating line, I entered the garden.

It was just as it had always been, the Sarutobi Clan's medicinal herb garden. Rows of leafy green shrubs lined the sandy loam, each row neatly labeled with wax paper tethered to a stake. When the breeze blew, Orochimaru remembered, those tags would rattle in the wind and flap like streamers at a festival.

Far down a row of vines hosting colonies of a thick moss Orochimaru recognized from many poultices as a prime anticoagulant, an old man in loose brown robes knelt, carefully tying a new vine to a trellis stake.

Orochimaru looked left and right, scanning the garden's broad expanse for any other Sarutobis, particularly Biwako or Asuma, Hiruzen's wife and surviving son, or his daughter Asuka, newly widowed and back from the Kumo Front for the traditional month of mourning.

There was nobody there to share the afternoon sun with the two men. Save for the distant birdsong drifting from the forest surrounding the compound, there was nothing to disturb the peace.

"Orochimaru." The old man's voice made Orochimaru start. "Or, should I say, Lord Hokage.

"I was wondering when you would come."

"You were wondering when I would… what? Pay a house visit?" Orochimaru lifted an eyebrow, taken aback by his old Teacher's tone. It was respectful, confident, and a far cry altogether from the croak of the exhausted old man who had been the Sandaime Hokage. "Retirement seems to be suiting you, T-... Lord Hiruzen."

"Why the surprise?" asked the old man, rising slowly to his feet and dusting his hands off. "You, more than anybody else, know exactly how heavy that hat can be. Is it so surprising that my shoulders would be light without its weight?"

"I don't know," Orochimaru spat, not even trying to conceal the bitterness in his voice. "It seemsss like you did a splendid job of shirking that weight whenever possible."

"You are referring to Danzo," observed Hiruzen, ancient eyes keen though every line of his body remained relaxed. "I always told him that he should make more of an effort to build bridges with you and your fellow Sannin. I always told him that one of you would most likely follow in my footsteps. Sadly, I suspect that his own hopes for the office blinded him to that, along with his stubborn insistence that he knew what was best for Konoha."

"Which you enabled by allowing him to create a private army," Orochimaru pointed out. "Hard to rebuke the man for his ambition to one day lead the village when you made it clear that the rules did not apply to him."

"Yes…" Hiruzen sighed, for a moment looking as frail as he had at the end of his time in office, and Orochimaru felt something deep in his chest quake slightly at the sight of the old legend of Konoha looking simply… old. "As the saying goes, there is nothing more permanent than a temporary solution. Danzo offered many solutions, back in the bad old days when I first came to the hat… Some of which he even delivered, eventually."

When Orochimaru gestured for him to go on, Hiruzen removed his pipe from a small leather bag at his hip and slowly began to pack it with tobacco.

"Things were such a mess, then…" the old man reminisced, lighting his pipe with a quick spark from his finger. "We lost both of the Senju Brothers, one after the other, and Lord Kagami, who had stepped up to lead the Uchiha Clan after Lord Madara died several years earlier. Over just two years, the two founder clans were beheaded. Even though we had survived the First War, even though we had arguably won the war, the signs were clear to see.

"We had simply lost with slightly more grace than our neighbors. But, our blood was in the water, our weakness and division clear."

"The sssharks were circling," agreed Orochimaru. "Timesss were hard. I still fail to see how granting Danzo operational as well as ssstrategic freedom, by which I mean allowing him to usurp the power of the Hokage at will, was remotely justified."

"On that we are agreed…" Hiruzen sighed, taking a reflective puff from his pipe. "Sadly, only hindsight affords such clarity. Each allowance seemed reasonable… and in truth, many were reasonable in the context of that vulnerable time.

"That is, of course, how these things go. Step by step, justification by justification. It was never my intention for Danzo to grow as powerful as he has become, though it is entirely my responsibility. I will not deny that."

"But…" Orochimaru felt like he was striking a training dummy, each blow striking clear and hard but without any of the fight he had anticipated, nor any of the justifying counters he had fully expected. His predecessor, his Teacher, his guide on the long path to the hitai-ate and his commander for as long as Orochimaru had worn the Leaf upon his brow, was offering virtually no resistance in the face of his jabs, agreeing with each accusation while somehow still depriving Orochimaru of any sense of accomplishment. "But how could you be so foolish, Teacher? You were in office for over three decadesss! And all that time, you just turned a blind eye to Danzo? There is no question that you knew of his operations! You sent me to him with ordersss to obey him as I would obey you!

"What could have possibly justified that?!"

What could have possibly justified you handing me over to him?

"I… thought it would make both you and him happy."

Orochimaru stared incredulously at his old Teacher. "You…" he repeated, grasping for meaning. "Thought it would make me… happy? To work with Danzo?"

"In retrospect, a foolish decision," sighed Hiruzen, tapping the ash from his pipe. His energy seemed to disperse in the light afternoon breeze along with the fine gray ash, the shadows cast across the old man's furrowed face deepening. "But… I was worried about you, Orochimaru. I had so much to worry about, between the war against Iwa and Kumo and the struggle with the then-Fire Daimyo over the relationship between Konoha and the government in Hanyu… But I could still see how alone you were, with Jiraiya away on his sabbatical and Tsunade still broken up over poor Nawaki.

"You had no friends, Orochimaru. Nothing to occupy you but your… research."

The knowing look in the old man's eye galled Orochimaru's bones. It made him feel like a guilty child again, one who had just found out that his secret wrongdoings had been known to his Teacher all along.

He hated that feeling.

And like with all things he hated, Orochimaru pushed back.

"Ah… Ssso, you knew." Orochimaru forced a smirk on his lips, but Manda's tongue was thick in his mouth, heavy and sluggish. "I sssuspected as much."

Below the bold face, his gut twisted like a nest of snakes. Through an effort of will, he kept his fingers relaxed, his hands by his sides, but he knew that if he allowed them to ball up into fists, he'd find his palms just as sweaty as they had been whenever he had been caught in the act by his Teacher so long ago.

I thought I would never feel this anxiety again, thought Orochimaru, angry with himself and not a little dismayed. How is he still able to make me feel this way, after everything…?!

"Of course I knew, boy," said Hiruzen, staring at him, visibly unimpressed, echoes of the old jonin Instructor in his voice. "I was the Hokage. Did you really think an entire laboratory apparatus could operate anywhere within Konoha's sway without my knowledge?"

"...Did you know about the branding ssseal your old friend placesss upon the tongues of his followersss?" asked Orochimaru quietly. "Did you know about that?"

Like the ashes from his pipe caught in the breeze, warm with the last days of autumn, the echo of his Teacher's old authority slipped away from Hiruzen. Only the old man was left in its wake, gray lips pressed tight over yellow teeth, a head hunched over sagging shoulders, all under a thick drift of years and lost time.

"Yes… Yes, I did." The old man's already wrinkled brow furrowed deeper. "It is as… nasty of a policy as it is short-sighted. I warned Danzo not to subject you to it, that you were not like the poor children he had raised to adulthood within his Roots. I warned him that you would both resent the measure and inevitably find a way to circumvent it. I warned him that you would not be willing to subsume yourself for him, that you would not sacrifice your ambition for his approval.

"I had confidence that Danzo was not quite as far lost to his own mystique that he would make such a simple mistake; I had complete confidence that, should he make that mistake, you would not allow it to hinder your report back to me.

"Sadly," Hiruzen sighed, returning the pipe back to its pouch, "it seems that I underestimated your loyalty to me… I should not have commanded you to obey him as you would obey me. I expected that you would come back and report to me if he mistreated you. When you did not, I had the impression that you enjoyed access to Danzo's resources, if not his company, and that I had done right by you by finding you a niche where your interests could serve the village."

"...We are shinobi," Orochimaru ground out, "trained from the day we set foot in the Academy to obey the ordersss of our superiorsss. The strength of a chain isss dependent upon the strength of each link, and so all must pull as one. That is the basis of our village, is it not? We are soldiersss, with the discipline of soldiersss. Above the lives of comradesss and our own life and limb, ordersss and the mission come first.

"Why would you ever think that I would disssrespect your teachings and betray my appointed commander, Danzo, by coming crying to you?"

"Jiraiya would have," came Hiruzen's mild reply. "But, that was another error that I made. You are not Jiraiya. You were," he added fondly, "always such a dutiful student, Orochimaru."

Uncomfortable with just how the smile on that wizened face made him feel, as if even now his Teacher was measuring him against all of the other students vying for his attention and wisdom, Orochimaru stepped back to allow the Yondaime Hokage to come to the fore.

"Let usss return to the circumstances surrounding Danzo's place in Konoha during your administration," said the Hokage, finding refuge in professional dispassion. "You indicated that Danzo was granted a measure of autonomy during the crisisss following the death of the Nidaime Hokage and your appointment as Sandaime Hokage."

"Quite," nodded the old man, seeming equally relieved to take a step back from personal matters. "We were still more of a clan at that point than the hidden village you lead today, and we thought like a clan as well. Leadership was personal and largely contingent on personal authority and reputation. Lord Tobirama had done good work laying down the administrative and social structures that are Konoha's bones and sinews, but the people within those structures had come of age during the Time of the Warring Clans.

"The burden of imposing order upon that great mess while still maintaining a strong face to show the rest of the world fell on my shoulders. And," Hiruzen's lips bent into a smile, "I needed people whom I could trust to help me carry the load. A difficult situation, and one that you, Lord Hokage, now most certainly understand."

Remembering his ongoing struggle to find another advisor to join Jiraiya in helping him manage the village, as well as his repeated thoughts about needing a secretary or five, Orochimaru could only grudgingly nod in acknowledgement. He understood exactly what the old man was saying, and he had the sinking feeling that he likewise knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Shimura Danzo was, is, my friend," Hiruzen stated, quiet in the sun-drenched herb garden. "We were among the first thirty-six ninja to graduate from Lord Tobirama's Training Institute, before it even became the Academy. Long before the First War started, we had saved one another's lives a dozen times over. On those battlefields… A dozen times again.

"When he came to me and offered to put together a dedicated team to identify and resolve potential threats, I jumped at the chance to shift a portion of my responsibilities onto the shoulders of a man who I thought of almost as another brother."

Abruptly on the backfoot under Hiruzen's keen stare, Orochimaru shifted uneasily. That line of thought sounded eerily like the one he had followed to the Masuya izakaya on the night the Sandaime Hokage declared him his successor.

Had we been brothers of the flesh, could our relationship have been any closer than the one already shared between Jiraiya and I?

They had all but spent their entire lives together, from the abbreviated childhoods that preceded their elevation to genin to the years of training and service. They had crossed through the gateways to adulthood together, both in growing into manhood and in taking the lives of foes upon the battlefield and targets sleeping in their beds.

Just as Teacher and Danzo must have done so many years ago, under the eyes of the last titans of the Senju Clan. …Am I truly forging a new path for Konoha? Or have I fallen into the trap of simply walking the old path in a new pair of sandals?

"Ah…," the former Hokage rumbled quietly, clearly following the roots of his predecessor's discomfort, "I see it in your eyes. You do understand, don't you, my boy?"

Orochimaru scoffed and glanced away, refusing to grant the old man the satisfaction.

"To be clear," the old man raised a hand, "I am not advising you to mistrust Jiraiya. He was a good boy and has grown to be a good man and a superb shinobi.

"I am warning you that complete reliance upon anybody is a luxury that no Hokage can afford."

"Hypocrite," snorted the Hokage. "You relied upon Danzo for all of the distasteful responsibilities. When I asked him what servicesss he provided, do you know how he replied? 'Clean handsss,' that was all that he could come up with to justify his whole miserable operation."

"Then you know I speak from experience. From the truest sort of experience, whose lessons are written in blood," Hiruzen replied with infuriating calm. "Furthermore… Danzo's is not the most objective view upon my conduct and decisions. While I hate to speak about the man's character when he is not present to defend himself, I believe we both know him well enough to understand that he would punish a barking dog with a cane to the snout. Such tactics guarantee that he finds enemies everywhere, given time.

"Had I followed his advice with the unquestioning zeal he so dearly wished from me, I suspect Konoha would only know peace when the last vestige of our village was wiped from the map."

"There is a difference between maximal punishment and constant aggression, and sssimply taking wholehearted action against our foess," the Hokage sharply replied, frowning at his predecessor. "That you were fully aware of Danzo's nature but allowed him to expand hisss influence year by year isss just as damning of a mark against your clemency asss every foolish action Danzo has ever taken is against his own world view. On the night you declared me your successssor, you even implied that he made an attempt againssst upon your life, but ssstill you 'gave him your blindnesss,' as you ssso aptly put it! That isss… beyond foolish."

"You are correct, my student." The old man's shoulders lifted and dropped, not so much a shrug as a concession. "But, as I also told you that night, Danzo was not incorrect in his assessment of my weakness. Strange as it might sound, I hate the necessity of death. A peculiarity, both for our trade and considering how many lives I have ended with my own hands and with the hands of my followers. Given any other option, though, I try to avoid that ultimate conclusion.

"That," Hiruzen cracked a smile, parched of mirth, "is why you are the Yondaime Hokage, Orochimaru."

"...You have told me nothing I did not already know." Orochimaru couldn't tell if his sentence was a complaint, an accusation, or a simple statement of the facts. "Or at leassst, nothing I could not have found out for myself."

"You were always a bright child," the old man said tolerantly. "I am proud of the man you have become, Orochimaru. So, ask yourself why it was you came here to speak to me today. Not that I begrudge you your visit, Lord Hokage, as you will always be welcome under my roof, but for both of our sakes, tell me what you truly wish to hear from me.

"What brought you to my door today?"

"How could you have been ssso willfully blind?" The words were out of Orochimaru's mouth almost before the old man could finish his previous sentence. "You are the Professor, the so-called 'God of Shinobi.' How could you have been so… complacent?

"It isn't just Danzo," the Hokage continued, waving a hand irritably, "it isss… isss…"

For a moment, Orochimaru found himself almost uncharacteristically tongue tied, if only because he didn't know where to start. Where, in the countless litany of mistakes, catastrophes, and failures, could he even begin?

"...Take the utter lack of response to the sacking of Uzushiogakure, save for the imposition of a bounty on all Kiri-nin!" He finally hissed out, "Or the disregard for the Hyuuga ssseeding a potentially fatal weakness in the bulk of their clan via the Caged Bird Seal in a bid to monopolize their dojutsu forever! The dysfunction sssurrounding the Uchiha, both in the apparent disregard and sussspicion so much of Konoha feels for that clan as well as the resentment felt by the Uchiha for slightsss great and sssmall, all left unchecked for a decade!

"I refuse to believe that you, Teacher, could have sssomehow failed to recognize your old friend'sss involvement in stoking that resssentment, in ensssuring those slightsss either came to passss or were exacerbated!"

With the benefit of retrospect, and access to the considerable resources of the Hokage's office and the official archives, the campaign of harassment against the Uchiha was hardly difficult to spot. It was equally clear to Orochimaru's eyes just who had directed that campaign.

Mistaken identities, previously reliable people acting erratically after reappearing from a surprise solo mission or other poorly explained disappearance, swirling rumors endlessly compounding upon one another, and all fault for failings great or small, real or perceived, always arriving at the Uchiha's door for reasons both nonsensical and arcane… It's almost a textbook Root mission, complete with the lack of any real gain for Konoha in its commission.

Combine that familiar contemptuous approach with Danzo's own mistrust for the Uchiha and it becomes impossible to explain the situation away.

"Teacher," Orochimaru hissed, almost growling and not caring in the slightest that his voice had slipped, that his tongue was waving before his face like an agitated adder, "I have been in office for ssscarcely a handful of months and already these problems and half a dozen more are clearly visible to me. What the hell have you been doing, Old Man, that they were not equally visible to you?!"

Heaving, Orochimaru forced himself back under control, forced his mind back to the contemplation of endless overlapping scales slithering over one another, of densely muscled bodies enfolding and venomous fangs stabbing, and almost sighed with relief as the reptilian detachment sank back down into his bones.

Hiruzen waited just as politely and calmly as he always had until his old student remastered himself.

"This will be supremely unsatisfying to hear, I am certain." The old man paused, took a breath, and sighed. "Supremely unsatisfying to admit as well.

"The simple fact is…I have no explanation for all of those faults you have identified and, as you say, a dozen more. None that is comprehensive nor exculpatory.

"All I can say is that we all grow old, Orochimaru, and with age comes placidity of mind and of body. My winter has come, and with it, so too has come a winter for Konoha. It is my hope that your youth and vigor, fresh eyes and fresh mind, will lead to an early spring.

"I did my utmost to follow the path Lord Hashirama and Lord Tobirama set out for me. Perhaps that path is a dead end for any lacking Lord Hashirama's power and Lord Tobirama's resolve. Perhaps I was the best in a field of poor options, when all of our heroes were gone. Perhaps thirty-six years is too long for any man to wear the hat and retain the wisdom necessary to rule well.

"In the end, my Lord, it is your burden to carry now. Let nobody tell you otherwise, until you know just as well as I do that it is time for the Leaf to turn once more."

Orochimaru stared at the man.

He stared at the image of a man who had once been an icon. Who had once been his Teacher, the Forever Hokage who had stood at Konoha's helm for generations, called the Professor and a living legend and even the God of Shinobi, his predecessor and the author of his newest torments, the man who had kept the village together and who had set its feet upon the path to division. Orochimaru had come to the Sarutobi Compound expecting a final accounting against the broad back and stern face that had always loomed implacably over his head, boy and man and soldier. Instead, he had found the pale shadow of that giant a withered if polite old man content to putter in his garden, with nothing to share save his best wishes for his successor's efforts.

Utterly weary of this conversation, fed up with the complete lack of meaningful answers, and feeling like something he had relied upon since the age of six had crumbled in his hands, Orochimaru turned away from his Teacher.

Before he could start back towards the gate of the Sarutobi Compound, something twigged at his memory.

Ah yes… The reason why I chose to come today, of all days.

"Thank you very kindly for informing me of the complicationsss surrounding Lady Kushina's coming delivery," he said, turning on his heel. Then, smiling nastily, fired back over his shoulder, "yoursss and Lady Biwako's assistance will… not be necessary. I have decided to entrussst the birth of Konohagakure's future into the handsss of somebody more reliable.

"Have a pleasant retirement, Lord Hiruzen."