In the soaring hall of the Cathedral of Bones, three figures sat around the long bronze table.
Adam (Sogetsu) occupied the head seat.
The chair was huge, the back towering high above him, as if it hadn't been built for a human at all but for some vast, unseen giant.
Shrouded in mist, he seemed less like a person and more like a distant god, looking down on every seat at the table. Under that gaze, both Orochimaru and Hatake Sakumo felt an instinctive, soul-deep pressure.
Like standing before a storming ocean, certain that at any second, a wave strong enough to crush you could come roaring down.
Almost without thinking—perhaps out of sheer biological instinct—they lowered their heads.
They could not look directly at him.
They obeyed without even meaning to: White Fang, and the man once known as the Cold Lord.
Even Orochimaru's usual arrogance and pride were buried.
Good. That's better.
Sogetsu relaxed inwardly.
Leaning on the awe that came with a Rank VI domain, he'd barely managed to tamp down Orochimaru's urge to poke and dissect everything he saw.
Tap. Tap.
He drummed his index finger lightly on the bronze surface.
"In this place," he said, voice calm and even, "you're free to speak openly."
The heavy pressure faded.
Orochimaru let out a silent breath, tension unwinding bit by bit. He still didn't dare raise his eyes, but he turned to the man across from him instead. After clearing his throat, he rasped:
"If you don't mind… I'd like to hear your story. I'm very interested in what happened to you, Hatake Sakumo."
White Fang frowned slightly. He glanced up at the head of the table, seeking permission.
"It's fine. Tell him, White Fang."
Adam smiled faintly, lifting his right hand in a small, permissive gesture.
"The Twilight Hermit Society doesn't have many rules. You're free to talk here."
Sakumo nodded once.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tight, his expression a mix of confusion, pain, and conflict.
"I came here… a month ago. Just like you, I didn't believe him at first."
His eyes flicked to the throne.
"But soon… he revealed my fate."
Revealed… fate?
To Orochimaru, the key word wasn't fate at all.
It was revealed.
His sharp mind pounced on that nuance; shock flickered through his eyes, quickly smothered.
"He told me," Sakumo said quietly, "that in one month, I would take my own life."
He smiled bitterly.
"And he was right. I walked right into it. As for the reason I killed myself… given that you're the Third's disciple, I imagine you know it better than most."
"Of course I do."
Orochimaru let out a cold, humourless laugh.
"On the eve of choosing the next Hokage, they needed to eliminate every unstable factor."
He paused, then continued, voice turning glacial.
"And you, Hatake Sakumo—Konoha's White Fang. Not a direct member of the Hokage's faction, yet worshiped across the village. More revered than even the Legendary Sannin. Overshadowing every other candidate."
"Of course you were the biggest 'unstable factor.'"
"So I had to die," Sakumo said softly.
He lowered his head. He'd never imagined that the village he'd bled for would be the one to raise the knife.
"That's right. You had to die. And your death had to have nothing to do with the Hokage."
Orochimaru leaned back, fingers laced, tongue flicking briefly over his lips.
"From what I've found… the comrade you 'abandoned the mission' to save was actually from Root. And the storm of rumours after that? Also their handiwork."
Root—Danzo's private ANBU, answering to one man alone. Not even the Hokage could command them.
Whether the Third himself was directly involved… that was something only each person could judge for themselves.
"Backed into a corner, I saw no other choice but to die," Sakumo said.
"I thought I could end everything with my death. Close that chapter for my generation. But…"
His face twisted.
"He told me that decades from now, Kakashi would die in Konoha too."
Not just one man's fate, then.
He could reveal other people's futures as well.
Orochimaru's pupils contracted.
Even with Sakumo's story as a "proof of concept," his rational mind urged him to distrust it. But another part of him—greedier, more desperate—couldn't stop reaching for it.
He swallowed, neck stiff as he forced himself not to look up at Adam's eyes.
His gaze fixed instead on the man's fingers resting lightly on the bronze tabletop.
His voice came out with a thread of respect he hadn't intended to show.
"Then… may I ask… what my fate will be?"
No one could truly refuse the temptation of seeing their own future laid bare.
In that moment, the pull of the unknown was stronger for Orochimaru than even the lure of immortality.
"The future you…"
Adam let the words hang, deliberately drawing out the silence.
He watched Orochimaru's hunger sharpen, then spoke at last, amusement colouring his tone.
"…lose everything."
The words were mild.
They hit like a bolt from a clear sky.
Orochimaru's mind went blank.
Lose… everything?
"Tell me. What do I lose?"
The composure he'd prided himself on cracked.
Cold sweat trickled down his too-pale face. His slit-gold eyes shook, lines of fear trembling outward from their centres.
"Exactly what I said."
Adam studied his spirit form. Fear flared in the aura, an ugly streak of colour rising; he was very satisfied.
"You lose the position of Fourth Hokage. You lose the teacher you respect. You lose the truest friendships you have. You lose the dream you're chasing. You lose until there's nothing left to take."
He paused, then added almost gently:
"The good news is—you're still alive."
"Tch…"
Across the table, Sakumo's mouth twitched.
He looked at Orochimaru with a complicated mix of pity and sympathy.
That's not "good news," that's a curse…
Orochimaru, meanwhile, looked hollowed out.
He slumped in his seat, eyes unfocused, all strength gone from his limbs.
His first instinct was to deny it outright.
But reason whispered back: Sakumo is sitting right here.
With that precedent, even a one percent chance was too much. He couldn't afford to shrug this off.
Hey, Snake… I'm really not lying to you, Sogetsu thought, amused.
If anything, I'm leaving a couple of details out.
He watched Orochimaru's mental breakdown with rare enjoyment.
After a while, Orochimaru pulled himself together.
The mask slid back into place. His expression smoothed; he let out a long breath and glanced at Sakumo.
"If he's here… that means his fate's already been changed, doesn't it?"
"In a sense, yes."
Adam leaned forward slightly, resting his right hand against his chin.
"But the real question is this, Orochimaru: do you have the courage and will to fight your fate?"
He didn't make promises for free.
Every "gift" from fate came with a price tag already attached in invisible ink.
Orochimaru heard the unspoken terms clearly enough.
He rose slowly from his chair.
Then, like a lamb bowing to a shepherd, he lowered his proud head.
"I am willing," he said.
"I'll offer my loyalty and my life. I'll carry out the Lord's will, and let Him use me as He sees fit… so long as I can tear free of destiny's chains."
"Good."
A small smile curved Sogetsu's lips. Light flickered in his eyes behind the mist.
After fifteen years, with every condition finally met, he could at last take the first real step forward.
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