A/N: This was meant to go up yesterday. Things haven't been great on my end lately. Thanks for your patience.
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There were many ways to fuck up. I'd fucked up in plenty of them throughout my illustrious career as a shinobi. Tactical misjudgments. Poor chakra control under pressure. That one time I'd accidentally set a client's shed on fire during a B-rank escort mission to hide the fact I had been fucking his wife.
But this... this might actually be the magnum opus of my failures, it trampled every single one of those failures. This was the Mona Lisa of fucking up.
I had just given a psychopath exactly what he desired most. I had handed the keys to the kingdom to the one guy who would definitely, absolutely use them to burn the kingdom down and then snort the ashes.
And I'd been so sure. So fucking sure.
Orochimaru's driving force was his fear of death; that's what defined him, what made him chase immortality like a starving dog after scraps. I thought I had a solid read on him because... because of memories from a goddamn show. From watching animated characters dance across a screen in a life I barely remembered living.
I'd done it again. I projected my two-dimensional perception onto real flesh-and-blood people who didn't follow a script. Onto a three-dimensional monster. First with Minato, assuming he'd react a certain way because that's what the character would've done. Now with Orochimaru.
How many people would suffer because I'd confused entertainment with reality?
If it were just me paying the price, fine. I'd earned it. But it wouldn't be just me, would it? It never was with the snake.
A hard thud echoed through the damp place.
I turned slowly from Aouru, who looked far too fucking amused for my liking, the smug feathered bastard, and looked down at the source of the noise.
There, on the wet stone floor, lay the decrepit, ancient husk of what used to be a legendary Sannin. He wasn't moving. His chest wasn't rising. He looked like something you'd find in a crypt that hadn't been opened in a century.
That wasn't… how it was supposed to go. The moment you pass the test, you get your years back. The contract restored what it took.
But I didn't dare hope yet. He must be playing a trick, like the snake delights in so.
I looked down at the scroll near the corpse's withered hand. The ink of Orochimaru's signature began to smoke. It curled upward, turning into fine black dust that drifted into the air. Aouru, perched on her rock, lazily flapped her wings twice and sent a gust of wind to scatter the dust into nothingness.
Only then did the air rush back into my lungs.
"You…. scared the shit out of me," I said, voice cracking just slightly. I ran a hand through my hair and let out a hollow laugh.
I didn't think I'd ever been this scared before. I would've rather fought Minato, Jiraiya, and the entire fucking Akatsuki all at once than deal with this.
Not because Orochimaru was scarier than them. He wasn't, even with Sage Arts in his toolkit. What terrified me was that I would've been the one to give him those Arts. I would've enabled him. Armed him. It wasn't the physical danger that had terrified me; I've made peace with being a bastard who dies young. It was the responsibility.
And I didn't have the shoulders for that weight. It would've been crushing.
I turned to Aouru, anger flaring hot in my chest. "Why the fuck were you laughing? You made me think he'd actually—" I gestured wildly at the corpse, the adrenaline crash making me irritable. "You almost gave me a heart attack, you sadistic feather duster!"
Aouru hooted, the sound layered with smug amusement. She was having the time of her life. So unladylike. So completely unbothered by my distress.
"I wasn't— I wasn't fcuking gloating!" I shouted, jabbing a finger at her. "What do you take me for, some kind of cheap villain? I was trying to get him to slip up! Confirm my theory about the Hokage's seal! Information gathering! Tactical manipulation!" I was ranting now, hands gesturing wildly. "This was strategy. To insinuate I was being a smug amateur. I have no words — I'm both offended and hurt."
Aouru didn't seem remotely convinced. She kept that insufferable air of amusement. Then, with a dismissive little hop, she glided gracefully from her rock perch to the scroll. She began furling it up with her talons.
"Careful," I warned, taking a step forward. "He might just be playing possum. You never know with snakes. Could be—must be faking. They play dead right before they bite your face off."
Oddly, that seemed to amuse her even more. She paused in her work to look at me, her head swiveling a full one-eighty degrees. The look she gave me was patronizing. Like I was the butt of a joke that everyone knew but me.
"What?" I growled. "What is it?"
She didn't answer. She just finished rolling the scroll, tucked it under her wing, and flew back to her perch.
"Fine. Be mysterious. It suits your plumage, I guess," I mumbled under my breath.
I huffed, shaking out my right arm. Chakra flared, hot and dense. Flames erupted from my forearm, coalescing into a massive spectral hand made entirely of fire. It floated just inches from my skin, clawed fingers flexing.
"Only one way to find out."
I sent the flaming hand forward. It grabbed the corpse by the head and lifted it up, holding it at arm's length.
I wasn't joking about not getting close. Orochimaru wasn't some Academy dropout. If this was a trap, I wasn't walking into it face-first like an idiot.
I inspected the body carefully. The skin was gray, mottled with age spots. The limbs were stick-thin, bones visible beneath sagging flesh. The chest didn't rise or fall.
"He's... dead," I said aloud, half to myself.
I waited.
"He's really dead," I repeated, like saying it twice would make me believe it.
I didn't.
Orochimaru made cockroaches look fragile when it came to survival. There was no way it was this easy.
I squeezed the fire hand tighter around the skull. Smoke began rising from the scalp, and the acrid smell of burning hair and flesh drifted in the damp air. Skin blackened and cracked. Bone started to char.
No reaction.
I squeezed harder, expecting any second for the head to explode into a swarm of snakes, or for the torso to split open and spill out writhing intestines of snakes that would reform into another Orochimaru.
Eventually, the skull couldn't take the pressure anymore. The fire claws sank through charred flesh and brittle bone. The head imploded with a wet crunch, collapsing inward like a rotten pumpkin. Gray matter and fragments of skull sprayed outward in a grotesque starburst. The eyeballs burst with soft pops, and the lower jaw hung loose, connected only by strips of burned tissue.
Aouru hooted sharply, disgust layering her tone.
I scoffed, "Sorry if I offended your delicate sensibilities, my lady, but I've got trust issues when it comes to undying snake bastards. You can't be too careful with pests."
She hooted, and I hummed back absentmindedly.
Did I just kill Orochimaru? One of the strongest shinobi in the village. One of the Legendary Sannin. Just like that. Without throwing a single kunai. Without even breaking a sweat.
It was hard to believe. Inconceivable, really.
I would've been satisfied just walking away with Orochimaru failing to form the contract. That would've been win enough.
I paused.
"Wait—" my head snapped toward the owl. "What do you mean he'd been dead for a while?"
Aouru gave me a look that could only be described as smug. Like, Took you long enough, genius.
Before she could elaborate — not that she would — the three giant snakes started squirming.
"Yeah…." I sighed. "That's more like it."
I flicked my hand, sending the ruined corpse tumbling across the cavern floor.
The middle snake twisted violently, its massive body coiling and uncoiling with sickening wet sounds. It lifted its enormous head, opened its maw wide, and gurgled.
Then, oh and behold, Orochimaru's naked upper body squeezed out from between its teeth.
Fluids poured off him, thick, viscous, translucent slime that clung to his pale skin like afterbirth. He emerged slowly, torso first, arms slick and dripping, hair plastered to his skull. The snake's throat contracted rhythmically, pushing him out inch by disgusting inch.
He looked up at me, young again, whole again, his lower half inside the snake's mouth, with that same infuriating smirk stretching across his face.
"Eishin-kun," he said, voice smooth as silk despite the mucus still dripping from his chin. "You truly had me there for a moment. A very clever maneuver." He wiped slime from his face with the back of his hand, still smiling. "Forcing me to confront my mortality so directly….. what an unpleasant experience that was. But—" He chuckled, low and rasping. "I'm genuinely impressed. It was a masterful performance."
I deadpanned at the snake.
Part of me, the dreamy, naive little optimist that lived in my appendix, had actually hoped I'd killed him. That maybe, just maybe, the universe had decided to throw me a bone instead of another brick.
Alas, the universe loved bricks.
"Some sort of marionette control," I mumbled, my eyes flicking between the slime-covered Sannin and the headless, barbecued ruin on the floor. "But Aouru said he'd been dead for a while... Some kind of corpse puppet technique. Not a substitution." I squinted at the ruined body, mind already picking apart possibilities. "Pre-programmed responses? No, it didn't feel like that at all. Chakra threads embedded in the nervous system? Or maybe he anchored part of his consciousness to it temporarily..."
"Perceptive," Orochimaru's smirk widened, clearly delighted that someone was taking an interest in his grotesque parlor trick. "Corpse Reanimation Doll Jutsu," he said, voice dripping with false modesty. "A minor project I was forced to cobble together during recent... unpleasant circumstances." He gestured vaguely at the headless body with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "I honestly thought it would suffice for the contract. A vessel with my chakra, my blood, my intent... one would think it enough to fool a bird. But it seems the Meigetsu Hermitage is far more thorough about their pound of flesh than I anticipated."
He sighed, a tragic, theatrical sound, while his lower half squelched wetly inside the giant reptile. The Sannin always had a talent for making everything just a little bit creepier than it needed to be.
"Yeah... what a bummer," I said, my voice flat.
I turned slightly toward Aouru, keeping Orochimaru in my peripheral vision.
"Are you seeing this?" I hissed. "Are you hearing this disrespect?"
Aouru blinked, looking bored.
"Are you seriously going to let him get away with that? He tried to pay you with counterfeit currency!" I gestured wildly at the snake-man. "He literally tried to cheat you. You! A lady of your refined stature! Are you going to let him get away with that? He not only tried to play you, he made a mockery of your test. Disrespected the entire Hermitage! Where's your sense of retribution? Your professional pride? If I were a majestic, all-powerful sage creature, I'd be offended. I'd be peeling the skin off his face right about now. Just saying."
Come on, you glorified pigeon. Smite him. Eat his eyes. Do something.
Orochimaru looked positively delighted. For a guy who'd nearly died and was currently being used as bait in someone else's scheme, he seemed way too entertained.
"You continue to surprise me, Eishin-kun," he said, ignoring my attempt to sic the bird on him. His smile thinned, losing its warmth, the edges becoming razor-sharp. "As brief as this interaction of ours had been. But most of all, your knowledge regarding the Fourth's sealing work. Knowledge that is... classified at the highest levels."
I turned sharply to Aouru. "Do something, you stupid owl!"
Aouru did do something.
She hooted once and then poof. A puff of smoke, and she was gone. Back to whatever moonlit perch she called home.
She actually left. She just bailed.
"Fuck." I swore, staring at the empty space where my backup used to be. "You useless, over-preened feather duster! I hope you choke on a field mouse! I hope you molt in winter! Call yourself a sage summon? I've seen better loyalty from a stray cat!"
"My, my," Orochimaru chuckled, the sound echoing off the wet walls. He found my plight entertaining. Of course, he would, the sadistic bastard.
"How entertaining," he said, still chuckling. "But I'm afraid we've gotten off track, Eishin-kun." He leaned forward, the snake's jaws widening to accommodate his movement. "I am terribly curious. How did a young Jounin like yourself come across the details of a seal placed on me before you were even old enough to lift a kunai?"
The amusement was gone from his eyes. In its place was a cold, reptilian focus. The air in the cave grew heavy, thick with killing intent that tasted like iron and old blood.
I sighed, running my left hand through my hair. I recalled the Firehand, letting it float protectively at my side, the flames casting long, dancing shadows against the rock.
"I didn't."
Orochimaru made a low sound in his throat. "I've been quite patient with you, Eishin-kun. I have been polite. But my patience has limits, and you are dancing very close to the edge of them."
I hummed thoughtfully, tilting my head. Then I leaned forward slightly and immediately activated Devil's Whisper.
"If you start a fight here, Orochimaru," I said quietly, "I'll make sure to end it." I let the words hang. "I may not live to see the result. But I assure you—you won't like it."
I wasn't using the Whisper here to bluff my way out, but to make sure the Sannin take my promise seriously. And it was a promise.
A promise I fully intend to follow through
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