The Art of War

by: Starapple/Martinique.

A/N: This thing is officially fighting me, tooth and nails. I get the feeling I don't have the energy to write this for the time being.

Disclaimer: Just for fun, the usual, no claim to ownership is being made etc.

Chapter 2: what price glory?

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The survival instinct of humankind is too strong for absolute destruction.

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This time it is a cliff face, impassive and rude to the very sky, jutting up arrogantly. Orochimaru meanders towards the hidden entrance, careful to keep a mask of objective patience up, to mask the pain in his head. Because he hasn't told anyone yet that something has gone horribly wrong – and at this thought, there's the hazy laughter of Sasuke and Orochimaru breaks to frown once more.

Kabuto doesn't notice. He's tired from the march and it is just as well. Kabuto is a little bit too clever. He stole him from Sasori, but he let himself be stolen, which makes all the difference. And again, he's too clever. He'd realise something is wrong, jump ship and why couldn't Sasuke die like all the others? What had gone wrong?

There's that voice in the back of his head and it is like an all-out war in his head. Distracting him from his various goals. Learn all the jutsus. Distracting him from everything, and if the way he now moved at night meant anything, Sasuke had control over his – mine – body, something that didn't sit well with him. He would have to… subtly investigate what had gone wrong. And then somebody would have to die. But he needed Kabuto; couldn't think of a reason why the younger man would betray him. In some ways he saw a lot of himself in Kabuto. The so-called arrogance, complete disregard for human life in the pursuit of scientific excellence. Curiosity, some had once termed it. Abnormal is what they had said. But there again, hadn't he succeeded? That Yamato was evidence of that.

What he didn't think, not anymore, not since Sasuke had started thinking, throwing it in his face for him, is that maybe, just maybe, he was the experiment now.

He'd never be a victim, that much he would guarantee.

The pressure on his head waned a little as Sasuke backed off, perhaps done with teasing him. Always quiet when something reminded him of Naruto. He was a dumb brat, but he'd seen what he wasn't sure Kabuto with his glinting glasses and bat's ears had noticed, his changed stance, his bearing, his speech. Even he forgot how his voice used to sound.

He needed to get to his books, neatly waiting for him. Kabuto, his mortal companion stood next to him, waiting for him to open the door into their snakes' den.

Taking the lead for the first time since the uncomfortable incident a few days back, Orochimaru made the necessary seals to dismantle traps and mind-tricks; opening the door in the process.

A torch flickered in the tunnel at the disturbance. An unsteady flicker, and deep in his mind the chaotic giggle of the Uchiha at his family's affinity.

"Kabuto." Orochimaru lisped, voice firm and self-assured, toying and clinging like he always wanted. "Do not disturb me."

He strode forward, not looking back at his lackey. Kabuto was more than that, he knew that now. He'd become his right hand, and that made him dangerous. He was left-handed, now, after all.

He could hear the soft shuffling steps made by Kabuto as he wound his way deeper into their temporary home, then the sudden stop as Kabuto walked like the ninja he was down a different branch of the den. Orochimaru couldn't help but admire and fear that ability of Kabuto to fool. Dangerous. It screamed at him.

He stumbled slightly, eyes narrowing to the floor where there were no signs of loose debris or a rock to trip over. Small mercy for Kabuto's absence. He was beginning to suspect that two brains in his body required more energy to upkeep. And the body is always the first to go, shame it wouldn't kill Sasuke off. The mind remained until the last gasping breath. He'd seen that before. That's what shinobi hung around dying comrades for. Seeing the life in their eyes dim, there to catch the last moments, paying their respects as eyes stared glassily at a loved one, or at the windows remembering all regrets.

Orochimaru never wanted to be that person. Shutting the door to his library quietly he quickly slid around the boxes blocking his path to the bookcase at the very back, holding the various documents he'd written himself to dedicate to eternity his findings. In particular the large volume on the very transfer he had once more subjected himself to a few days ago. Where'd it gone wrong?

He lit a candle.

It would be a long night, and he could tell Sasuke would be peering through his eyes, soaking up all knowledge. He should have written it in a secret code, but he'd never expected to let anyone he didn't intend to see it. A dark snigger confirmed his fears. Sasuke's mind was a convolution of malevolence, and though he'd suspected – no – had capitalised on the darker parts on his mind, this maelstrom of darkness underlining his every thought had surprised him.

He had always had remnants of the others floating in his mind. But that was different, these were free standing memories, not another mind battling his for control. He was worried that the number of transfers affected the jutsu – something that worried him more than he really cared to admit. That meant his realistic life-span had just been reduced to three-years, and the only real upside to this was that he'd take the little bastard with him. He had three and a half decades of experience on the kid.

He settled himself on the floor, uncaring of the dirt, book open on the first page.

Hours later, he has reached the last page, and there's a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize. It could hardly be called a note, more like a word - 'Interesting.', and below it…. Sasuke laughs, and it echoes like an earthquake tremor in their mind, making Orochimaru lose his composure and throw the book at the dirt-wall.