Rating: T-ish

Warnings: So many feelings, rather unhealthy grieving, more dysfunctional people, cute kid!fluff, pseudo-scientific discussion of shinobi clans, etc.

Word Count: ~5900

Pairings: one-sidedJiraiya/Orochimaru, faint Sakumo/Orochimaru

Disclaimer: Hah. I want some of whatever Kishimoto's been smoking, but Naruto's not mine.

Notes: So I was looking back over a bunch of the comments and realized that I never stated the end-goal pairing for this fic. It is, as a lot of people seemed to guess, Sakumo/Orochimaru. (Yes, Sakumo friend-zoned Orochi, but that will resolve itself. Helped along by all that angst I mentioned last chapter, of course.) The Jiraiya/Orochimaru is entirely one-sided, and that won't change. Also, yes, Anko and Kabuto will both be making their appearances, as will Minato's Team 7.

(That chapter of Stormborn is coming, I promise. This was just almost done and nagging me to finish it, and since I've been working on it intermittently for almost three months now, I felt somewhat obligated to give it my attention.)

A Snake In the Grass, A Wolf At the Door

Chapter Four

Tsunade is bored.

Oh, she's heartsick as well, of course. Grieving and weary and lonely and aching. Dan's loss is a hole carved straight through her, soul-deep and gaping, weeping guilt and hopelessness and blood. She'll never recover, no matter how much time passes, because it's not the type of thing that heals. Maybe, eventually, it will scab over, and Tsunade will be able to go about her day without it constantly on her mind, but it will never be entirely gone.

Honestly, Tsunade isn't sure she deserves to have it gone. If she couldn't help Dan, if she couldn't save him—

But for two decades, Tsunade has been an active shinobi, and no shinobi is ever bored for long. There are always missions or training or duties or research, and never before in her life has Tsunade had the time stretch out so emptily before her. Sleep, travel, gambling, and drinking are the only things left to distract her now, and they aren't nearly enough.

With a soft sigh, Tsunade swirls the sake in her ochubo, though she doesn't toss it back the way she wants to. Shizune is out picking up supplies, and Tsunade is a good many things, but careless with others' lives isn't one of them. She wants to drink, wants to drown herself in alcohol until all she can feel is the hum of it eating away at her grief and guilt, but she isn't traveling alone. Shizune is still a child, Dan's niece, who is depending on her for everything. Even now, in the midst of her self-loathing, Tsunade isn't about to get plastered and leave the girl on her own in an unfamiliar and possibly hostile village. The war didn't end all that long ago, after all, and while the central parts of Fire Country escaped unscathed, the borders were hard hit.

The ache of loss is ever-present, but right now, all Tsunade can feel is the mind-numbing, crushing, overwhelming tedium. It feels a little like a betrayal of Dan, to be this way, but Tsunade has been a shinobi since she was six years old, and never before has she had to endure more than a week or two without something to do. One of the perils of being both well-respected and powerful. Jiraiya and Orochimaru were never given down-time either. Never wanted it, the same way Tsunade never wanted it.

And now she has it, in excess and seemingly unending supply.

Thought of Orochimaru brings a pang of regret and something very close to guilt, and Tsunade grimaces, giving her sake another considering look. Because she left, left Orochimaru on his own in a place where he's never quite fit in, and where he doesn't even bother to try any longer. He's one of her best friends, her teammate, but in the wake of Dan's death she couldn't even bring herself to look at him any longer. Being unable to save Dan has left no room in her for anything even remotely like comfort, to give it or accept it. Orochimaru knew Dan as well, liked him, and grieved for his loss.

Had she stayed, had she spoken to him about her decision, she would have faltered. She would have tried to comfort Orochimaru, who still hates death with a passion very much like fear. He would have tried to comfort her, in his own, awkward way. And Tsunade would have crumbled, fallen to pieces from which she likely never would have reassembled herself.

She can't break. Someone has to take care of Shizune, who is all but family. Someone has to bear the guilt of failing, of not being good enough, no matter how many people call her the best. Someone has to carry this curse of bad luck she's never been able to escape from.

Besides, Orochimaru is hardly alone, she consoles herself. He has Jiraiya, who likely returned from Ame as soon as those three orphans knew how to run and hide well enough to survive. He has duties, after all, and a village to return to—the very things Tsunade left behind.

She is Orochimaru's friend, but Jiraiya is the one he loves, and Tsunade is experienced enough with such emotions to understand their pull. Even if Orochimaru doesn't mean to, he'll still gravitate towards Jiraiya without fail, and Tsunade is mired deeply enough in her own loss that she doesn't want to see that. Not even when it's entirely unrequited and one-sided pining. No matter how pathetic—

Tsunade sets her sake down with a sharp clink and presses her hands over her face, cursing herself under her breath. She's become so petty in her grief, so cruel and small and awful. What would her grandfather say, if he could see her now? What would Dan say?

She hates the person grief has made her into, this blind, spiteful, selfish person fleeing her own ill luck, as afraid to drown her sorrows as she is to face them.

What if Shizune needs her? What if someone gets hurt?

(Shizune doesn't need her; Tsunade is the one who needs Shizune.)

(What is someone does get hurt? She's terrified of blood, and will be precisely as useless as she was when Dan died.)

The sake is looking more and more appealing. Maybe, once Shizune is asleep upstairs—

A man settles onto the stool beside hers, tall and broad-shouldered and clad in a Konoha jounin uniform, messy silver hair bound back in a tail. For half a heartbeat Tsunade thinks it's Jiraiya, come be beg her to return, but one quick glance is enough to see that it isn't. Too short, for one thing, though not by much. She sighs and picks up her cup again, swirling the sake absently.

"Hatake," she acknowledges. "You're far from home. Ayame is actually letting you run around without a collar?"

The man's wife was one of her classmates in the Academy, a placid woman with endless kindness and a quicksilver humor buried beneath her calm. Tsunade has always liked Ayame, even if they've never been particularly close.

Sakumo doesn't respond the way she half-expects him to, saying you're far from home, too, or some variation thereof. Instead, he leans his elbows on the bar and sighs softly, wearily, running a hand over his flyaway hair. "Ayame passed," he says bluntly, though he doesn't look at her. "Two years ago now. There were complications with the birth. The doctors couldn't save her."

The sharp stab of guilt takes Tsunade by surprise. Her breath catches in her throat, and she thinks, Could I have saved her? If I had been there, would she have lived? Barely aware of it, desperate to drown out the roiling in her gut, she drains her cup and immediately pours herself another.

"The child?" she manages after a moment, and if her voice is rough she can blame the burn of the sake.

Because she's watching out of the corner of her eye, she can see the way the sadness slides off Sakumo's face, replaced with a gentle sort of joyful adoration. "Kakashi. He's very strong. Without a doubt he'll be one of Konoha's greatest someday."

There's that at least, then. Tsunade rubs a hand over her face, trying to tell herself that what she feels is just happiness at the birth of a child, not guilt over having been unable to save his mother, or relief that the kid is alive even when his mother isn't.

The silence stretches between them for a long moment, and Tsunade is very nearly suspicious, because she knows what Ayame used to say about her husband—never still, never quiet, not when he could be moving or joking or even just listening to someone talk. But here and now, he's unmoving, contemplative, and that doesn't seem right.

She's just about to break in, say something needling just to get to conversation going again, maybe even help her figure out why, out of all the bars in Fire Country, Sakumo chose this one. But before she can, Sakumo shifts, laying his hands flat on the bar and casting a nearly sly sideways look at her. It's…a familiar expression, though she can't quite figure out where she knows it from.

(Orochimaru, something in her whispers, but that can't be right.)

"I heard," he says carefully, "that you're a bit of a gambler. Care to make a wager?"

Tsunade blinks, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. "Odds?" she hears herself say, and nearly curses herself for it. But…she's curious. Curious and bored, and Hatake Sakumo is the most interesting thing she's seen in at least a year. But because she's not an idiot, she adds quickly, "And I won't agree without knowing the bet first."

Sakumo grins, all traces of grief gone, and she can't imagine how he's done that. Can't imagine what strength he must have to shut that away and function regardless of it. But he grins, and there's only good humor in it, bright and irrepressible. "If you win," he says with an edge of mischief that sits on his face with far more ease than sadness, "I'll pay back every ryo of your gambling debts, and any more you incur for the rest of the year. And if I win, I want a favor. Just one."

She eyes him warily for a moment, but even though she's always had good instincts about people, she can't find any trace of malice in him. There's earnestness, a warmth and a depth of conviction and underneath it all a grim sort of drive, but nothing to make her shy away or doubt his word. Were he any other man, she might refuse out of hand, because she knows how she looks and what most men want from her, regardless of her reputation.

But the lure of all her debts being paid is a strong one, and if Sakumo does win and decides to try tricking her into bed, Tsunade will put a fist through his skull and go on her way none the worse for wear.

"And the bet?" she prompts.

Another smile, this one full of sharp teeth that make him look more like his summons than anything. "One simple question. We moved in the same circles, back in the village, so it shouldn't even be hard. Name the shinobi who would take custody of my son if something ever happened to me."

Tsunade blinks, then quirks a brow at the man, but he looks entirely serious now, dark eyes intent on hers. He's right that they know all the same people, because the elite jounin are hardly numerous, but beyond that Tsunade was friends—if fairly distantly—with Ayame, and listened to more than one aggrieved tirade about Sakumo getting caught up in training with his best friend and missing a date. It seems like a big wager to make on such a simple question, and Tsunade can't quite see the point of it—is Sakumo angry at her for leaving, for not being around to save Ayame? Is this a test to see how well she knows his family?

But…

But her debts have been piling up for years now, and the freedom to move around without creditors breathing down her neck would be more than welcome.

"Fine," she agrees, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll answer the question. You win, you get your favor. I win, you take care of everything."

Sakumo nods soberly and offers his hand. "My word as a shinobi," he affirms, and maybe to some people that wouldn't mean much, the word of a mercenary and a killer, but Tsunade knows just how honorable Sakumo is and grips his hand without hesitation.

"And mine," she says. "You're sure that's what you want to ask?"

That gets her another grin. "Definitely," the man agrees cheerfully, waving to the bartender for another bottle of sake. "You sure you want to answer it? If you're scared, Tsunade-hime—"

Tsunade scoffs. "Might Dai," she snaps, cutting him off, because she's never liked people questioning her bravery—and, now that she thinks of it, that was how Jiraiya and Orochimaru always got her to go along with some of their more harebrained schemes, as a kid. And a teenager. And a young adult. Maybe there's a bit of a pattern there. "It's Might Dai. You'd leave your kid to him."

There's no question, honestly. Sakumo is friendly, but he tends to stay with family rather than seeking out friends. The only one he was ever really close to, besides Ayame, was Dai. Tsunade knows he respects the Hokage, likes several of the Hyuuga, has drinks with a couple of Inuzuka and Uchiha, but…it's acquaintanceship, and a person as family-oriented as Sakumo would need a hell of a lot more to leave his only child with someone.

For a long moment, Sakumo's face is expressionless, set. He doesn't move, and Tsunade feels victory bubbling up through her, coupled with disbelief. She's—

"Wrong," Sakumo says softly, lips curving into a faint, satisfied smile, though there's something like resignation buried in his eyes. "Wrong. Kakashi's guardian would be—"

"You are a dead dog," a familiar voice hisses, sharp with murderous intent, from behind Tsunade's shoulder. Astonishingly, Sakumo's smile only grows into a wide, beaming grin. "You left me in that firetrap of an inn to come and drink at a different bar? And you left us curry bread. I have told you before, mutt—" A soft, sharp breath, then a sound suspiciously like a growl—like a wolf's growl—as the newcomer apparently catches sight of her. "Hatake."

Sakumo laughs, deep and honestly amused, and rises from his chair. "Orochimaru," he says with more delight than Tsunade has ever heard someone direct at her teammate. He steps past her, reaching out, and Tsunade turns in her seat to watch, because she's not going to believe this unless she sees it with her own eyes. But it's really happening. Orochimaru is standing behind her, a child (Sakumo's, clearly, given the ridiculous silver mop) perched on his hip and clinging to his hair. Even Tsunade was never allowed to touch his hair, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

Orochimaru eyes Sakumo for a moment, expression somewhere between aggravated and longsuffering, and then mutters a soft curse and rolls his eyes. "Get that look off your face," he informs the taller man testily. "Those eyes won't work on me. Stop it."

Tsunade can't see Sakumo's face, but she can hear the pout in his voice as he steps closer to Orochimaru, reaching out to curl a strong hand around his shoulder. "Can't we go back to the part where you were using my given name, lovely?" he practically whines. "I think I liked that better."

(With the suddenness of an epiphany, Tsunade realizes that she doesn't have to worry about Sakumo trying to get her into bed. Not if he and Orochimaru are… Well. She doesn't know whether to be pleased by the thought or horrified, because it's Orochimaru and he might as well be her brother.)

The look that Orochimaru favors his partner with would be enough to gut other men. Sakumo just laughs and throws an arm over his shoulder, pulling him into a quick half-hug that would get anyone else vivisected. But Sakumo survives without so much as a scratch, leaning over to ruffle his son's wild silver hair. "Hey, cub," he says cheerfully. "Want to meet someone amazing?"

The little boy looks at his father, then up at Orochimaru, who looks back at him with a somewhat dubious expression. After several moments, the kid shifts his gaze back to Sakumo, then reaches out and wraps his small arms tightly around Orochimaru's neck. "My Oro," he insists with all the solemn gravity of a marriage vow. "No else's. My."

Tsunade wonders, a little dazed, whether it's possible to go into a diabetic coma just from witnessing something so ridiculously cute. And that is probably the only time she has ever attached the word cute to absolutely anything about her teammate. But in this case, there's just no other word that even comes close to fitting.

It only gets worse when Orochimaru just sighs, reaching down to hoist the boy up a little higher, and ducks his head a bit to get closer to eye-level. Of course, because heaven forbid Orochimaru ever treat a child the way everyone always treated him as a toddler, which Tsunade knows he loathed. "Cub," he says firmly. "What have we discussed in regards to sharing?"

Tsunade presses a hand over her eyes. It's either that or start laughing hysterically, because somehow in the handful of years she was gone, Orochimaru went and made himself domestic.

Or, she thinks suddenly, casting an assessing and somewhat suspicious glance at Sakumo, he found someone worth becoming domestic for.

It's not that she has any right to be butting into Orochimaru's love life, or any part of his personal life, not after leaving the way she did. It's just…Tsunade knows just how awkward and somewhat uneasy Orochimaru is around other people, knows that he'll often miss the subtler clues and hints when it comes to interaction, and she and Jiraiya have always been his buffers. Without them, what if Sakumo swept in and Orochimaru just…couldn't say no?

Orochimaru is good at killing, good at being a shinobi. He's simply not so good at being human.

For all her faults, or perhaps because of them, Tsunade has always been overwhelmingly, unbearably human.

(She likes to think that they balance each other, rather than tearing each other apart.)

Finally, Orochimaru raises his head from his conversation with the toddler, meeting Tsunade's stare with an arched brow that doesn't quite manage to hide his faint chagrin. It's the same as embarrassment on anyone else, and Tsunade can't quite fight a smirk as she shifts off her stool and takes a step forward.

"Tsunade," he acknowledges, taking a step of his own and then immediately stilling again. With anyone else, Tsunade would write it off as hesitation, or Orochimaru being unsure whether she would welcome his approach. But because she does know him, because she's seen him in every state possible and then some, Tsunade recognizes the move for what it is, and her eyes narrow. She darts forward and seizes him by the elbow, fingers clamping down hard enough to make him wince.

"Orochimaru," she responds with killing sweetness. "Who here knows you're injured?"

Sakumo's grin disappears like a slate wiped clean, grip tightening visibly on Orochimaru's shoulder, and even the little boy—Kakashi, she reminds herself—tips his head back at an awkward angle to blink at her.

"Tsuna-da?" he asks curiously, still adhered to Orochimaru's neck, and Tsunade can't help but be impressed. She knows it's fairly difficult for kids to pick up names unless they have direct association, and Orochimaru's only said her name with both her and the boy present once. Though, granted, it does explain a fair bit about why Orochimaru is allowing the clinging. He's always had a soft spot for geniuses.

Because she is evil and will never, ever let anyone forget it, Tsunade shifts her gimlet-eyed glare from her teammate to smile down at the child clinging to him. "Hello, Kakashi-chan," she says gently. "I'm Tsunade. I'm going to take care of your new Kaa-san. He's hurt, and I'll make him better."

Orochimaru makes a noise suspiciously like a splutter, and Sakumo chokes. Tsunade just barely manages to keep from rolling her eyes at the pair of them. Really, do they think they're being subtle?

Kakashi is watching her with wide, serious eyes, and his grip on the Snake Sannin has only tightened. "Hurt?" he repeats, and glances back at Orochimaru. "Oro hurt? Tsuna-da fix." He casts another quick glance at the man holding him, and adds in a voice that quavers dangerously, "Pease?"

Damn, Tsunade thinks a little dazedly. That's one cute kid. Maybe Orochimaru's attention isn't solely dependent on his intellect.

"Don't worry, cub," Sakumo butts in before Tsunade can manage to scrape her brain cells back together. His hand is still tight and immovable on Orochimaru's shoulder. "Tsunade-hime will fix him, I promise. Since it seems he forgot to mention—"

"It slipped my mind," Orochimaru snaps. "Honestly, Sakumo, given the circumstances I believe—"

It's the wrong thing to say, apparently. Sakumo's grey eyes go flinty, lip pulling back slightly to bare his teeth in what is definitely not a smile. "Right," he agrees grimly. "I suppose I should take comfort in the fact that you're not so used to assassination attempts and mission sabotage that you can just write it off—"

"What?" Tsunade demands, fully alarmed now. Mission sabotage? That implies that it's originating in Konoha. Someone from Konoha is actively trying to kill Orochimaru, her friend.

Sakumo looks up and meets her eyes, and in the space of a single heartbeat Tsunade can see just how much he cares for her prickly genius of a teammate. Can see the lengths to which he'd go and the depths to which he'd sink, just what he would give to keep Orochimaru safe. It leaves her a little breathless, because she knows how much he and Ayame loved each other—as much as she loved Dan, she thinks she can safely say, and—

And Sakumo has rediscovered something similar in Orochimaru. He's moved forward, even if he'll never quite move on, and he's found someone to love with just as much fervor. He has his son and Orochimaru and a home in Konoha, and just for one wild, desperate moment Tsunade wonders if maybe, maybe—

"That favor," Sakumo says softly. "I want you to return to Konoha and stay there until the person behind this has been taken care of. I can protect Orochimaru most of the time, but not enough. Never enough."

He doesn't say please or anything of the sort. He doesn't beg, doesn't try to barter or remind her of the lost bet. Just…looks at her, long and level, with his heart in his eyes.

It's in no way an accusation, but even so, Tsunade's own guilt supplies the words. You left him and this happened. You ran without a single thought as to how he would manage. You weren't there to save Ayame.

"I'm cursed," she manages to choke out, the only argument that she can even vaguely grasp. "I can't—"

Sakumo smiles at her, small but very warm. "I've learned," he says with an impossible amount of cheer, "that bad luck and burdens are most easily borne when shared between friends. And I'm very, very sure that both of us would be more than happy to help you carry this curse, Tsunade."

Orochimaru says nothing, but he's watching her the way he always used to watch Jiraiya when they were younger, halfway between wariness and hope.

Tsunade is many things, but cruel isn't one of them. Nor is she someone who can disregard such a clear danger to one of her best friends.

With a soft huff, she rubs her hands over her face and then gives Sakumo a sharp nod. "You won our bet," she says firmly. "I owe you a favor, and if you're calling it in, I'll keep my word. Orochimaru, get your pasty ass up to my room and let me have a look at that leg. No arguing."

"Ass!" Kakashi chimes in, delighted to be able to contribute something to conversation, and Orochimaru hisses at all three of them equally and marches towards the stairs, the toddler still perched cheerfully on his hip.

Traveling with both Tsunade and Sakumo is…strange. Orochimaru is used to moving with a squad, or even with Tsunade and Jiraiya. Used to moving quickly and silently, to watching their surroundings, to standing at a distance and covering the perimeter. He's never gone any significant distance with them that wasn't a mission, that didn't require attention and care and wariness even within their own borders.

But now Tsunade has her apprentice, and Orochimaru is carrying Kakashi, and it's…different. There is no perimeter to watch as they go, and whenever Orochimaru tries to drift to the back or the front—because he loves Tsunade, he truly does, but there is only so much browbeating he can take before he stabs someone, possibly himself—Sakumo stays at his shoulder with the kind of cheerful obliviousness that means he knows exactly what he's doing and what Orochimaru is attempting to do. As ever, Orochimaru's glares just slide right off of him like water off oiled canvas. It's infuriating.

(But at the same time, Orochimaru suspects that he wouldn't change it, even if he could. Sakumo has a tendency to grow on one—less like a fungus, and more like a particularly clingy sort of moss.)

Regardless of their younger companions, however, they make good time, and they're a little under halfway back when Tsunade catches her faltering apprentice and calls a halt for the night.

"Oh, thank goodness," Sakumo huffs, dropping down in the grass and sprawling out on his back. "I was thinking you were like Lovely over there, and going to make us run all night."

"On other missions," Orochimaru tacks on in self-defense, seeing the way Tsunade's eyes immediately narrow on him. He shoots another scathing look at Sakumo for good measure. "Despite what you seem to think, I am capable of judging my own injuries and not making them worse."

Tsunade snorts, settling her apprentice against the wide bole of a tree. The girl—Dan's niece, Orochimaru remembers—smiles thankfully at her, unstrapping her sandals to rub at her feet. Tsunade takes a seat on her left, right across from Orochimaru, and studies her former teammate thoughtfully.

A thoughtful Tsunade is never a good sign. Orochimaru busies himself with undoing Kakashi's sling without waking the boy, and ignores whatever hideously embarrassing question she's coming up with.

And, indeed, barely ten seconds later she drawls, "Lovely? I've heard a lot of people call Orochimaru a lot of things, but that's a first. Care to tell me how it came about?"

Orochimaru grimaces. Of course that would be the first thing she asked.

Perhaps predictably, Sakumo just laughs, deep and free, and completely ignores the near-desperate glare Orochimaru is giving him. He pushes up on his elbows, grinning at Tsunade, and says blithely, "That's from our second mission together, just a few weeks after Orochimaru saved my life the first time."

Judging by the look on Tsunade's face, there will be no getting out of telling that story, either.

"Sakumo—" Orochimaru warns in a vain attempt to stop this dangerous landslide of a conversation. He honestly should know better than to try by now, but hope springs eternal and all that.

However, with the ease of a year's worth of practice and all the momentum of that same landslide, Sakumo steamrolls right over him. "It was an assassination mission, some Lightning Country merchant who was staying at a hot spring in the east, and the Hokage picked us to go. It was supposed to look like a natural death, so we had to sneak in." He pauses to grin at Orochimaru with the sort of obnoxious cheer that's his default setting. To Orochimaru's horror, he finds he doesn't mind it quite as much as he once did. "But once we got there, we found out that the guy was in a honeymoon suite, so if we wanted to be close to him, we had to get the other honeymoon suite. And they'd put seals up to prevent henges, so that idea was out."

Tsunade is so close to laughter now that Orochimaru isn't entirely sure why she's even trying to hold it back. Not for the sake of his dignity, clearly. "Did you flip a coin?" she asks cheekily, clearly remembering Orochimaru's suggestion from that one time they needed to be a team of two girls and a boy, back when they were chuunin. Of course, both Tsunade and Jiraiya had very quickly shot his idea down, and Orochimaru had been more or less resigned even before that. Jiraiya…does not exactly have a build that can be concealed or turned even vaguely feminine by a traditional kimono.

Sakumo grins right back. "No, it didn't quite come to that. I thought we should hire someone from the town, but before I could, Orochimaru disappeared, and turned up two hours later looking like something you'd find in the Daimyo's court. I just called it like I saw it. Lovely."

"You always did pass as a woman very well," Tsunade agrees almost wistfully, eyeing Orochimaru like she's sizing him up for a dress.

Orochimaru thinks he's entirely justified picking the far side of the campsite to sit, and levels her with a flat look. "As you would know," he says dryly, "seeing as I lost count of the number of times you dressed me up when we were children."

Tsunade beams at him, that well-hidden spark of wickedness finally coming back to her eyes. It's been…a very long time since Orochimaru saw it, and now it makes something in his chest ease, if only slightly. Maybe Tsunade really will recover from Dan's death. "Blame your mother," she parries slyly. "If she hadn't asked me to teach you how to act like a kunoichi that time…"

Despite himself, Orochimaru can't fight his small smile at the memory. "My mother's clan was always very insistent that we not be confined to a single role as a shinobi because of a small thing like gender," he explains for the benefit of Sakumo, who's watching him curiously. "Especially considering that we can pass as either sex with less work than it takes most."

Sakumo hums thoughtfully, pushing up to sit cross-legged in the grass. "Like snakes," he suggests. "There's usually not much difference between the genders—or at least, not as much as with other species. They're your clan's animal, right? Like wolves are mine."

So many people in Konoha, shinobi or otherwise, seem to have forgotten the significance of being from a clan. With some, like the Hyuuga, Orochimaru can understand it, can pick out a reason for their wariness of him. But with others, like the Inuzuka, it confuses him, because they are just as closely tied to their clan animal as he is to his. It's thought to come from an ancestor closely allying with a particular summons, back long before even the Clan Wars were a concept, never mind shinobi villages, and Orochimaru supports the theory though evidence is hard to come by.

But people forget that no matter how many generations pass, the traits remain. Orochimaru has always had a closeness with his snakes that goes beyond the bond of summoner and summons. Manda recognizes it—and whatever Sakumo might say, the snake has never truly tried to eat Orochimaru, or Orochimaru would most certainly not still be in the world of the living. He obeys Orochimaru because they are similar, because there is a resemblance between them that is lost with others, and no one else seems to see that.

Allowances are made for the Inuzuka, with their wildness and fierceness. Few have ever been made for Orochimaru.

But Sakumo sees. Sakumo recognizes. Sakumo understands.

"Yes," Orochimaru agrees, once he finds his voice again, and if it sounds faintly rough, well. That can be written off as tiredness, of course. "As with your wolves. The Hatake clan is built on a non-gender-based pack structure, isn't it? Either a man or a woman can be the Head."

Sakumo hums in agreement, smiling at his son who is still asleep in Orochimaru's arms. "That's right," he affirms, reaching out to stroke a few flyaway silver strands out of the boy's face. "Usually it's a married pair, and they decide between them who will be leader. It works for us. Or, well, it did when there actually was a clan."

Orochimaru finds himself…uneasy, seeing the darkness in those usually warm grey eyes. Almost without thinking, he reaches out and closes his fingers over Sakumo's wrist as the other man withdraws, and grips tightly enough that Sakumo glances up at him in faint surprise. "There is still a clan," Orochimaru insists, and though he tries to keep his voice even, he doesn't think it works as well as he wants it to. "I still have a clan. As long as we are alive, our families still exist in our blood, and that's enough."

For a long moment, Sakumo simply stares at him in surprise. But then, slowly, his smile appears and spreads, until finally he's grinning again. He turns his hand in Orochimaru's grip, pulling away just enough to tangle their fingers together and squeeze gently. "Thanks, lovely," he says warmly, and there's only brightness in his eyes.

Orochimaru's breath catches somewhere deep down in his throat, and he—

Realizes.

Sakumo understands him, and that's a balm. And in the same way, Orochimaru understands Sakumo, can offer that same balm with a few simple words. Can bring back Sakumo's smile the way he's never been able to for anyone before, and that's—

Astonishing.

A little unnerving.

But…good.