Pain was usually a fascinating teacher. It sharpened the senses, accelerated evolution, and separated the weak from the strong.
But this pain was boring.
It was a dull, rotting throb that radiated from his shoulders down to his fingertips. It wasn't the clean burn of a wound; it was the heavy, suffocating weight of necrosis.
Orochimaru sat in the darkened room of the temporary hideout, sweat beading on his pale forehead. His arms hung at his sides, purple and useless, dead meat attached to a living god.
"Kabuto," he hissed. The sound was wet, edged with agony.
The shadows in the corner moved. Kabuto Yakushi stepped into the dim light of the candle, his round glasses reflecting the flame. He held a scroll in one hand and a damp cloth in the other.
"Your fever is spiking, Lord Orochimaru," Kabuto said, his voice clinical. "The necrosis is spreading faster than anticipated. The cellular degeneration is resisting the medication."
"I don't need a diagnosis," Orochimaru spat. "I need a solution."
He tried to lift his right hand. A spasm of agony shot up his arm, searing through his nervous system like a lightning strike. He gasped, doubling over, his long black hair falling to cover his face.
The Reaper Death Seal.
The old man's parting gift. A curse that didn't just take the soul of his arms—it took the essence. It was eating him alive.
"The solution has been located," Kabuto said calmly.
Orochimaru's head snapped up. His snake-like eyes narrowed.
"Where?"
"Tanzaku Quarters," Kabuto said. "She was spotted at a high-stakes dice parlor yesterday. She lost a small fortune, destroyed a slot machine, and drank three bars dry."
Orochimaru let out a low, raspy laugh.
"Tsunade," he whispered. "Predictable as always. Running from her ghosts in a cloud of sake fumes."
"She is traveling with her apprentice," Kabuto added. "And the pig."
"She is the only one," Orochimaru said, ignoring the details. "The only medic in the world who can reverse a spiritual severance. She understands the anatomy of the soul."
He stood up. It was a struggle. His balance was off without his arms to steady him. He felt fragile, and the feeling made him want to burn the world down.
"We move," Orochimaru ordered.
"Are you sure?" Kabuto asked. "Konoha agents are likely in the area. And if Jiraiya is tracking her..."
"Let him track," Orochimaru sneered. "Jiraiya is a sentimental fool. He will try to appeal to her loyalty. He will try to talk about the Will of Fire."
Orochimaru's grin widened, stretching the pale skin of his face.
"I will offer her something better. I will offer her the dead."
He walked toward the exit, his kimono trailing on the stone floor.
"Prepare the sacrifices, Kabuto. We are going to make a deal with the Slug Princess. And if she refuses..."
His killing intent flared, cold and suffocating, filling the room with the scent of blood and snakes.
"...then we will take her hands by force."
"WAKE UP! PERVY SAGE! IT'S MORNING! THE SUN IS UP! THE BALLOON IS WAITING!"
Naruto pounded on the wooden door of Room 205 with both fists. Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Come on! You said three days! I need training time! Stop sleeping!"
He kicked the door for good measure.
"I know you're in there! I can hear you breathing! Or maybe that's snoring! WAKE UP!"
A door down the hall clicked open.
"Ugh," a groggy voice groaned. "Who the hell is screaming already? It's six in the morning."
Naruto stopped pounding. He turned around.
Standing in the doorway of Room 202 was a man in a silk bathrobe. His hair was messy, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was holding an ice pack to his head.
It was the guy from the festival. The one with the ruined white suit.
"Oh!" Naruto beamed. "Hey, rich guy!"
Gantetsu blinked. He squinted at Naruto, his brain slowly processing the orange jumpsuit and the whisker marks.
His face dropped. The color drained out of it instantly.
"...You," Gantetsu whispered. He looked around the hallway nervously, as if expecting a giant toad or a sphere of destruction to materialize out of the wallpaper.
"Kid," Gantetsu rasped, tightening his robe. "What are you doing?"
"Waking up my sensei!" Naruto explained cheerfully. He pulled the rubber ball out of his pocket and held it up. "I gotta pop this thing! It's super hard, but I'm gonna do it today! Believe it!"
Gantetsu stared at the rubber ball. Then he stared at the door Naruto had been assaulting.
He sighed. A long, weary sound that came from the soul of a man who had realized the world was much scarier than loan sharks.
He rubbed the back of his head, wincing.
"Kid, look—" He coughed, clearing the morning gravel from his throat. "Ahem. I'm gonna give you some advice, and then consider us square for the takoyaki, capisce?"
Naruto tilted his head, confusion scrunching his face. "Advice? Like... jutsu advice? Do you know how to pop the ball?"
Gantetsu rubbed his eyes. "No—just listen."
He walked a few steps closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"That old man you call your sensei? The one with the white hair?"
"Pervy Sage?"
"Yeah. Him." Gantetsu shivered slightly. "The whole goofy old pervert thing? The drinking? The dancing?"
"Ideally, he stops doing that," Naruto admitted.
"It's a disguise, kid," Gantetsu said seriously. "I've been in the underworld a long time. I know a killer when I see one. That man... he looked at me yesterday, and I felt like I was already dead."
He leaned in.
"That might be the most powerful ninja in the world. You shouldn't be banging on his door. You should be... I don't know. Praying to him."
Naruto's eyes went wide. His mouth formed a perfect 'O'.
"F-for real?!" Naruto breathed.
He looked at the door. He imagined Jiraiya not as the guy who peeked at bathhouses, but as a secret warlord of destruction who blew guys away with invisible energy balls.
"Yeah," Gantetsu nodded, seeing the awe and assuming he'd successfully instilled fear. "For real. So... tread lightly."
"He's so cool!" Naruto shouted, punching the air. "My sensei is the strongest! YES!"
Gantetsu froze. He watched Naruto turn back to the door with renewed vigor.
"HEY! ULTIMATE NINJA MASTER PERVY SAGE! WAKE UP! TEACH ME THE DESTRUCTION MOVE!"
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Gantetsu sighed again. He turned around and shuffled back toward his room.
"Good luck, kid," he muttered. "You're gonna need it."
He slammed his door shut just as the door to Room 205 creaked open.
Jiraiya wasn't asleep.
He sat cross-legged on the futon, fully dressed. The room was dark, the curtains drawn against the morning sun.
He ignored the rhythmic pounding on the door. Naruto had a hard head; he wouldn't hurt his knuckles.
In his hand, Jiraiya held a crumpled piece of paper.
It wasn't a secret scroll. It wasn't an encoded message from Konoha.
It was a receipt.
He had found it in the trash can of the sake bar last night, buried under lemon rinds and broken glass. It was a tab for seventeen bottles of premium sake and a replacement cost for a broken table.
The signature at the bottom was scrawled in a messy, aggressive hand that he would recognize anywhere.
Tsunade.
He smoothed the paper out on his knee.
"Found you," he whispered.
She was here. In this town. Probably hungover, probably broke, and definitely running.
But as he stared at the receipt, a cold feeling settled in his gut. It wasn't just the hangover from his own "investigation."
His spy network had been buzzing for days. Rumors of snakes in the grass. Rumors of a dead man walking with purple arms.
Orochimaru was moving.
Jiraiya clenched his fist, crumpling the receipt.
"Two hunters," he murmured to the empty room. "One prize."
He stood up, walking toward the door where Naruto was currently shouting about "ultimate destruction."
"Alright, alright!" Jiraiya yelled back, throwing the door open. "I'm awake! Stop trying to break the hotel!"
Naruto beamed up at him. "Let's go! I'm ready!"
Jiraiya looked down at the boy. Then he looked down the hallway, toward the exit, toward the town where his old teammate was hiding.
"Yeah," Jiraiya said, his eyes hard. "Let's go."