Serpent's Eye
Disclaimer: I don't own Orochimaru, Itachi, or any other creations of Kishimoto. I do own this story.
AN: Orochimaru's thoughts, not long after Sasuke's arrival. His hopes, his desires, and his regrets.
The cloaked man paced slowly down the long stone hallway, the candles on the walls guttering eerily as he passed them. From the high ceiling of the narrow walkway there hung short chains and large hooks, all of which looked very old, very rusty, and very, very used. Dried blood caked the stony floor, and various other liquids had gathered in the cracks between stones, pooling grotesquely. The walls were decorated with the bodies of men, women and children, their shredded corpses dangling lifelessy from their perch on the cold rock. Some were fresh, with their lifeblood still crimson against the grey stone, while others were little more than skeletons, bones broken and stained in death.
But he cared not for these things. Remnants of past experiments and trials, they meant nothing to him now. Each and every one of them had been given the chance, the glorious oppurtunity, to aid him on his search for immortality. Whether they wished it or not, they served him to their last breath, shrieking their pain to the silent stone even as they had died. They had failed him. Their promise was broken, their potential lost. They were no more, now; lost to the endless void their master sought to save himself from.
Traitors. They were all traitors. The cloaked man's long strides slowed suddenly, and he came to a stop next to a particularly fresh corpse. This boy... had shown so much promise. So much potential. He could have been the perfect vessel, the ultimate container for his master's power. But he had been too weak, too frail. The mind had broken, and the body became useless. The man reached out a pale hand, the white skin seeming to glow a ruddy orange as it reflected the candle's light. An ivory finger stretched out, touching the boy's lifeless cheek softly, nearly tenderly. Then, abruptly, the finger seemed to explode with power, the length of the digit surrounded in a violent purple energy. With a sickening swiftness, the corpse of the boy was reduced to little more than ash, the remnants of his body smoking and steaming on the stone floor. The man stepped back and observed the pile of ashes with a twisted smile. Reaching up to his hood, he threw the thick fabric back from his head, bringing his face to light. Slitted yellow eyes stared down at the cooling remnants with a strange glee.
"You were useless... Kimimaru."
There was no response. There never would be. The boy had succumbed to the final test, had given in before the infinite power and reach of Death. But it would not be so with he. Not he, who was feared and renowned as one of the Three Legendary Sannin, Not he, who had single-handedly siezed control of this foundering village and built it up, forcing it to grow until it was the flourishing military power it was today. Not he, who had seen the face of Death and spat in it, who had outlasted a curse cast on him by the God of Death itself. Not he, who had perfected a technique for infinite rejuvenation, who had found a way to become immortal in his own right.
Not Orochimaru.
His smile grew wider as his golden eyes stared down at the charred remains of Kimimaru, a long, purple tongue flicking in and out of his mouth erratically. It would be soon, now. The arrogant boy was already in his grasp, eager to begin his training. He would help the boy grow in strength, carefully nursing his enormous potential. Before long, the brat's power would have grown exponentially. Three years was more than enough to turn that pathetic, simpering wastrel into a true shinobi, and by then the technique would be ready once more. Soon, he would have the eyes he had desired for years. The Sharingan would be his at last.
The eyes he desired. But not the body.
He hissed angrily between clenched teeth and spun about, setting off down the corridor with an angry tread. Yes, that was his greatest failure, no doubt. He regretted the events at Konoha deeply, especially since his arms would never quite heal from that curse Sarutobi had laid upon him. And the Tsunade situation could have been handled better; his ribs still hurt from the beating she had given him. But, next to that one failure, the rest seemed miniscule in proportion.
He had failed to obtain Uchiha Itachi.
Oh, he had his brother, yes. The brat certainly had potential, true enough. But when he thought back to the strength Itachi had possessed; that power, that grace, that skill! And he had been still so young. How old had the boy been at the time? Thirteen? Fourteen at most? And yet he had soundly defeated the greatest of the three Sannin, using no more than a Genjutsu and a kunai. Truly Itachi was the rightful heir to the strength of Uchiha Madara, that most powerful of Shinobi. It had been said that the founder of the Uchiha clan had even managed to subjugate the Kyuubi, mightiest of all demons! Before that day, he had found that impossible to believe.
Now, he knew that it was true.
In Itachi lay the seeds of a great strength, a vast sea of potential that seemed limitless in its depth. Oh, and how he yearned to taste that strength, to sample the waters of that glorious ocean. But he couldn't. Not yet. Itachi was too strong, and there was nothing Orochimaru could do against him. Not until this brat he had now was ready, not until Uchiha Sasuke was as highly trained as he could make him.
Sasuke was no more than a stepping stone.
With the help of the boy's body, Orochimaru would indeed gain possession of the Sharingan, but he knew now that that wasn't enough. He had learned that there was an even stronger form of the Sharingan, known as the Mangekyou Sharingan, which had abilities and strength undreamt of. And Itachi possessed it! And Sasuke did not; he knew this for a certainty. The brat would not have come if he had that ultimate strength, and from what little he knew of Sasuke's mentality, the boy would not take the same path to power that Itachi did.
What could be done? He desired the Mangekyou, yearned for that ultimate power that lay locked within the eyes of the Uchiha. But he was uncertain, uncertain that even if he obtained Sasuke's body for himself, with the strength of the Sharingan with it, that he would be able to defeat Itachi. Even with his power and skill combined with Sasuke's bloodline, it may not be enough to capture Itachi. Should he try to force Sasuke to obtain the Mangekyou Sharingan before he fought Itachi? But how? He had no idea as to how such power was obtained. Would Sasuke know? It was possible, but how could he get the boy to tell him? Sasuke had made it clear that he came to Orochimaru for power, and no more. He seemed desperate to kill Itachi. But... what if he did know how to unlock the Mangekyou, and had not simply because Itachi had? Orochimaru could see Sasuke having such prideful, foolish arrogance.
He must obtain that information from Sasuke. And soon...
A sudden spasm shook through his body, and Orochimaru fell to one knee, clutching at his chest in sudden pain. So, even this body, though willingly given, sought to cast him out. This was not good. He had expected the spasms to have died down by now, as his spirit absorbed the spirit of the boy whose body he stole, but still the pain continued as the body attempted to shake off this possessing spirit, this snake that had it in its coils.
He must move quickly. If he did not train Sasuke well and with great speed, fate may force his hand before he was ready to take Sasuke for his own. Turning away from the charred corpse of his faithful servant, he strode down the long hallway, the twisted shadows of his victims trailing behind him like a cloak. An evil light shone in his golden eyes, and his thin lips were twisted in a victorious smirk.
Like a snake, arrogant and triumphant, Orochimaru went forth, his mind already on his new victim.
AN: Just a little one-shot I felt pressed into writing. I actually want to do this with most of the characters in the anime; this same sort of thing, anyway. Where I can reveal to you their mind and their character, their thoughts, even unto the inmost wishes of their soul. It's fun, and I love analyzing why the characters do what they do. It's why I got into fanfiction, anyways. ;P