A/N: Hey there~ This is the revised version of Branded I originally posted in 2009. The plot will follow the same trajectory as before with some changes here and there. It will be a long ride, expected to be near 50 chapters or so because there won't be a sequel.
The previous version was unsatisfying imo. I took it down for a reason. Sasuke did things he never would have, whereas Orochimaru came across as spineless – putting it simply, he was too 'nice'. Everything could have been handled better. There are older copies of this story floating around on the internet which bothers me because I can write better. This is a personal gripe of mine because I always aim to write and share something worth reading.
Note: Sasuke is a bit older than he would be in canon. Another point is that I re-read my stories every few days to nitpick, finding grammatical errors and things I dislike, so I suggest reading the story here. This version will always be up to date.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
Prologue
Following the first thud of a body, hundreds more dropped to the ground in a matter of minutes. The number of shinobi thinned until there was only a lone figure remaining crouched among the sea of bodies. All of their vital organs were avoided on purpose; none of them had been killed. The cacophony of whines, moans and grunts was proof enough they still lived and breathed.
Orochimaru deigned to listen to the sounds of his subordinates with a sneer, wondering if there was such a sight more unflattering than this. The defeat of a thousand could be laid at the feet of one person which made it all the more pathetic on their part.
"How kind of you to spare them all, Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru commented in derision, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.
Sasuke brushed the remark aside, unaffected by the snipe at his refusal to kill anyone except Itachi. He allowed it to sail by like the countless others before it over the past three years. "They aren't the ones I want to kill."
One of the fallen shinobi – the nearest one at his feet – chose at that moment to make his existence known to Orochimaru, spluttering in a coughing fit. Orochimaru did not even bother to spare the man a second glance because he was just that expendable, undeserving of even a staring down. "If you don't become merciless," he sent the man reeling with a swift kick to the gut in emphasis, "you will never defeat Itachi."
"Before Itachi, I will become merciless." Sasuke rose to his feet, reaching out to grasp the handle of his sword. The clean blade glinted in the sunlight as it was angled in the air, spinning, before sliding into its scabbard. "I won't show him mercy – not even if he gets on his knees and begs for it."
It was difficult to believe that this young man – no longer a boy from the time he joined Sound – was unscathed from the training session. There was not even a drop of return blood staining his clothing, barely slicked with sweat if any at all. People used to call Orochimaru a genius, but at that same age, he would have been nothing compared to Sasuke.
Orochimaru found himself staring, unable to look away from his future. He lingered at a standstill even after that body he longed to possess disappeared from sight. When he finally moved to leave the training grounds, he did so with a smile. It was almost time, just a little longer until he would assimilate that greatness, claiming that body for his own.
Soon, Sasuke would be his.
"Your body has reached its limit," Kabuto was saying as he hovered at Orochimaru's bedside. "At this rate, if I don't give you the rank ten medicine, your body will..." He trailed off, letting the implications of his words sink in.
There was no need to speak further; the coughs wracking Orochimaru spoke volumes of his dire condition. The body Orochimaru inhabited was nearing its expiry date, rejecting and trying to expel his foreign control while deteriorating at the same time, failing on both accounts. The rank ten medicine was potent, however it would only be a temporary fix, stalling the inevitability of changing bodies.
"Hold on for a bit longer." Kabuto strode to the door, pausing in the doorway long enough to say, "I'll go fetch the stronger medicine," over his shoulder.
Orochimaru did the only thing he could do in his bedridden state. He began to laugh.
How ironic that he had to taste such death before attaining life, soon to possess the perfect vessel as an anchor to the world. It was a joke of the darkest kind that he adored – twisted amusement at its finest. Goodness, once he began laughing, he simply could not stop. Even when he doubled forward, coughing up blood, the laughter persisted, swelling in his chest along with the taint of bile.
A patter of footsteps drew his attention, echoing from the corridor beyond his room. Orochimaru had barely enough time to react, looking up from his hunched position on the bed when, out of nowhere at alarming speed, a glowing sword stabbed the door. It pierced right through the wood, heading straight for him. Unable to veer out of the way, left with no other alternative, he drew his arms in a textbook block and braced himself.
Orochimaru hissed when the blade pierced his flesh. The block mitigated deeper damage at the expense of pinning his forearms together. He tried to dislodge his arms, twisting this way and that, but to no avail. It only made more blood spurt from the wound. The blade was unyielding, composed entirely of chakra with an ethereal quality, numbing his arms whenever it crackled with lightning.
"Who is it?" Orochimaru dared to ask, already suspecting the answer.
The answer he received was non-verbal in nature, though no less effective in getting the point across. Piece by piece, sliced apart by quick and efficient slashes of a blade, the door crumbled to the ground.
"So." Orochimaru sounded haughty even in his weakened state, drawling the word. There was no bitterness, no sourness in his expression, having expected things would end this way. "It came down to this after all."
Sasuke held the same opinion, composed even when he spoke harsh words. "You have nothing more to teach me. It seems that even in front of you," an edge steeled his voice, matching the power swirling at his eyes and flaring over his skin, "I can become merciless."
Orochimaru discovered just how merciless Sasuke could be.
The elemental blade lodged at his forearms stretched to break skin, muscle and bone, tearing through it all to extend past him. It lengthened just as Sasuke crossed the threshold, closing the distance between them at a slow, calculated speed until the tip of the blade was embedded into the wall. Orochimaru grimaced when his arms were forced to the side, drawn so tightly that, even through the numbing pressure, he felt something snap.
"Orochimaru," Sasuke said, slowing to a halt in the middle of the room. "You are weaker than me. There's no point in giving you my body at this point."
Orochimaru was tempted to laugh at the sheer audacity, making a breathy sound in prelude of laughter. He did not actually laugh, though, on the contrary looking deadly serious to hurl the insult back at Sasuke. "Big words from the leftover Uchiha."
Sasuke smirked, using the ammunition Orochimaru had inadvertently placed in his hands. "If I hadn't been so weak, I never would have sought you out, would I?" The deafening silence was priceless, giving him another opening to further drive his point across. "You only wanted me because you couldn't handle Itachi. Isn't that right, the so-called 'great Sannin genius'?"
The words hit their mark, bitterness seeping into the wound. Sasuke could see it plainly from the flare of nostrils and narrowing of golden eyes into menacing slits. Still charging the elemental blade, he took an invasive step closer. "Perhaps the world at large would consider you gifted, but next to the Uchiha, you are nowhere our level. Before us, the greatest genius in the universe barely comes off as average."
Sasuke took another step, slowly yet surely eating the space separating them. Every step was measured, each word from his lips flat, telling Orochimaru exactly how it was without inflection. "And as someone who carries that name, from my point of view, your attempts to obtain our power are so disgusting they're almost funny. Saturating yourself with drugs and medicines? Transferring bodies?"
By now, Sasuke had reached the foot of the bed, crossing lines in more ways than one. From his sitting position on the mattress, Orochimaru was forced to angle his head upwards to maintain eye contact, refusing to be cowed into looking away.
This one-sided conversation was ridiculous, going well beyond the tolerable level of rudeness. Even worse was having to gaze up at Sasuke, seeing the power of the Curse Seal flaunted so blatantly.
"Your methods are pointless," Sasuke stated as more of a fact than opinion, leaving little room for discussion. "Do you even have a goal anymore? You claim to be seeking the reason behind existence, yet all you do is make petty excuses for playing god with people's lives."
Sasuke towered at the edge of the bed, the height adding to his air of superiority. As he stared down at Orochimaru, he saw not the man who had been training him for the past three years, but someone else. The whiteness of that face blurred, becoming darker in complexion, streaked by diagonal lines near a straight nose. Hair receded in length, shortening and lightening in shade, parting in the middle to frame a face.
"Why?" Sasuke had to know, struggling to crane his neck upwards on the floor, barely managing to look above the bodies of his parents.
Standing above them was Itachi, bearing no resemblance to the brother he grew up with – all except for that face. Even the words sounded different, cold and unfeeling. "To measure my capability."
"Measure your capability?" Sasuke choked out, grief tightening his chest, making him shake. "That's it? You killed everyone for that?"
"It was very important that I did."
Sasuke blinked the memory away, pushing it out of his mind to focus on the present. He shifted his attention to the figure on the bed, looking at the man who reminded him of Itachi. The faces of his brother and Orochimaru were different, features defined in their own way, however they might as well have been the same. Itachi and Orochimaru had done unspeakable things for their own ends, carrying out cruelty for the flimsiest of reasons on a whim.
It disgusted Sasuke beyond measure. He told Orochimaru so in no uncertain terms, blunt even to the very end. "You sicken me."
Orochimaru was ready for this, no longer seeing the need to tolerate Sasuke. They were fighting for survival; only one of them would make it out alive, the other either killed or taken over.
Just as Sasuke charged forward, confining him against the wall using the elemental blade, Orochimaru made his move. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, on the verge of revealing his true form when the unexpected happened. The lack of killing intent from Sasuke was baffling, catching Orochimaru off guard such that he faltered for a second, visibly shocked. It was a heartbeat, the slightest pause in time, yet it made all the difference.
The weapon Sasuke brandished changed ends; instead of the sharp tip aimed at his neck, Orochimaru felt the bluntness of a sword handle. The pressure slammed into his neck, involuntarily forcing his mouth to close against his wishes. The blunt force from the handle was staggering, rendering him unable to do little else except grind his teeth from the pain of it.
But Sasuke was not done – far from it. Through a haze of pain, Orochimaru was stunned to watch Sasuke stab his sword into the bed, apparently not needing the weapon.
Fingers gripped his chin, overpowering in their strength, trying to force Orochimaru to look in the opposite direction of his arms. He had an iron will, refusing to submit to Sasuke, but even then he was only as strong as his body allowed him to be. Sasuke exploited that physical weakness, securing Orochimaru's chin between his thumb and index finger while lowering the other three digits to the throat, digging in at the bruised area.
It was painful – so unbearable that Orochimaru's body betrayed him, twisting his head to the side in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. The movement revealed his neck, partially obscured as it were by his hair which Sasuke quickly remedied, sweeping the strands away in full exposure. There was a split second when their eyes met, Orochimaru glaring from the corner of his vision until a flash of movement caught his eye.
Sasuke made a single hand seal.
Orochimaru blinked in disbelief, the confusion twisting to pain, contorting his face when Sasuke did the unthinkable. Teeth sank into his neck, biting hard enough to break the surface of skin. He refused to endure it, beginning to writhe on bodily instinct, trying to throw Sasuke off. Just when he thought the pain could not worsen, it heightened to an excruciating level he had never felt before.
The sword stabbed on the bed was in plain sight, but Sasuke might as well have used it instead of the jutsu. It felt like someone was slicing his skin, carving something on the left side of his neck, right at the base of his shoulder. The worst was yet to come, the sensation changing, singeing. It changed from visceral to scorching, setting the already inflamed nerves at his shoulder on fire, burning Orochimaru to his very core.
There was no escape, not even relief when Sasuke withdrew, for the damage had already been done.
Orochimaru was still reeling from the ordeal when he spoke, snarling the words through the aching pain. "What have you done?"
Sasuke was ever the calm, collected individual as he deactivated the power coursing through his body. He tore a piece of fabric from a clean spot on the bed sheet, using it to wipe the blood staining his lips. Only then, after cleaning his mouth, did he bother to answer the question. "You of all people should know," he answered coolly, unperturbed by the killing intent flashing in golden eyes, "seeing as you developed your own, Orochimaru."
The implications were unmistakable, made painfully real through the burning sensation at his shoulder.
"No," Orochimaru hissed, venom coating his voice, hoarse and lower than it had ever been. This was all wrong. He was the one to brand others, leaving his mark on his followers – not the other way around. "This was not meant to be!"
The protest fell on deaf ears, Sasuke offhandedly tossing the bloodied scrap to the ground. He straightened to full height, wordlessly willing the elemental blade out of existence. Doing so freed Orochimaru's pinned arms at the wall. They dropped to the bed in a bloodied heap, bleeding profusely from the open wound. Black eyes followed them, noting the shakiness of arms – how they gingerly moved upwards to the brand.
Feeling the reality of the brand was a rude awakening, reigniting the fire that had burned and sealed the mark into his skin. "I refuse," Orochimaru ground out through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw tightly in flat refusal. He was looking into thin air with wide eyes, appearing not quite 'there'. "I am Orochimaru. I'm the one to reveal this world, holding everything in it. The power of the Uchiha Clan was supposed to be mine."
Sasuke unflinchingly stood his ground when Orochimaru turned to look at him then. Had he been a lesser person, he would folded underneath the intensity of golden eyes with disgusting ease, bending over like all of the others in Sound.
But he was not like the rest. Sasuke made sure Orochimaru understood that when the Sharingan swirled into existence, spinning just as the damning words left his lips.
"This is as close as you will ever get to the Uchiha Clan."
