The ABCs of Orochimaru
A is for Anger
Some said anger was a vicious beast, tearing into a person's soul with needle sharp fangs. Others insisted it was a wildfire, spread with the slightest amount of fuel and burned everything in its path.
Orochimaru knew better. His anger permeated his mind, festering and rotting. It started with his parents' death and only worsened. No one took the time to understood him or care for him afterwards.
The village preaching to its inhabitants that it was most important when there was no community –
He was helpless. People continued to die. He hated it. He was furious.
He buried his anger and focused on living.
Every breath and beat of his heart pumped that anger-poison deeper. Deeper.
Life, power, burying the sickening frustration and the urge to kill everyone because they were two-faced weaklings was all that mattered.
Orochimaru watched the experiment on the table writhe in pain and gasp for one last breath before it died. Death was failure. Death always stared him in the face.
He plunged his kunai into the corpse. Blood splashed his fingers and for just one moment, he allowed the sorrow to drench him.
But it evaporated into anger as it always did, sinking to the bottom of his mind. Orochimaru left the room with blood dried on his hand.