VI.
Three Names

So this is the true purpose of the mask. To shield its owner from his very self. The irony is not lost on Orochimaru. For all the great reputation Hanzo of the Salamander has accumulated over the years on account of his skill with venom, the man has turned out to be vulnerable to his own trademark poison. Orochimaru suspects it must have been unlocked by a deflated venom implant of sorts, probably located within Hanzo's lower belly, where Tsunade has just broken flesh with her nimble kick. Which means they have been very lucky to happen upon it from the first go.

Regardless of how it's come to be, it is an unprecedented display of vulnerability, although the effect it has on Hanzo appears to be paralyzing rather than lethal, the way it is for the man's enemies. Orochimaru intends to make the most of it anyway.

His hands perform a series of seals, even as he is well aware that the jutsu is likely to cost him most of his chakra. He slams his hands into the surface closest to him—which happens to be Manda's head, much to the serpent's indignation—and channels his chakra through his outspread digits. The black formula of the Triple Rashomon leaves a more complicated marking than that of a typical summoning. Orochimaru is quite proud to have mastered it in less than a month. Of course he hasn't done so through traditional means. This jutsu isn't lawfully taught in the Hidden Leaf, courtesy of some musty decree about civilian safety. But the First Hokage's scrolls have looked oh so lonely, sitting on a rack within a locked chamber, guarded by three very distracted ANBU, just waiting for a daring hand to close around their bolts.

His teammates would condemn his actions if they knew of how he came into possession of the knowledge, but once again it is the stolen jutsu that comes to their aid and not the one they picked during their lessons with Sarutobi-sensei.

The three gates burst autonomously from the ground, surrounding Hanzo in a roofless triangular prism, effectively separating him from his struggling summoning. Each painted demon face stares dully at the paralyzed man, menacing and unyielding.

Hanzo looks like he is about to shake off the paralysis, but that is what the Rashomon walls are here for. Whatever his jutsu, it will be restricted safely in. Nothing in Orochimaru's line of experience has ever come close to denting one of the great gates. Granted, Hanzo's explosive tags might put a scratch on them. But that is as far as they will get him.

The man looks up at them, irritably serene. "To think you'd have the First Hokage's techniques up your sleeve as well... So you have trapped me in. I know the power of these gates too well. Any offensive jutsu I perform will be rendered useless, and the damage is likely to rebound at me." The man lifts up his hands in a prompting fashion. "Now, Leaf underlings... I give you this chance. Show me what you are capable of."

Orochimaru pays no heed to the man's arrogant tone. They have him where they want him. He and Jiraiya land on either side of the barrage, maroon tiles clicking hollowly beneath their feet like teeth snapping. Orochimaru promptly prepares to perform the finishing technique. It's time to show Hanzo that their bite can be dangerous as well.

The oddest of memories pass along in his head as Orochimaru sets to exploit the enemy's exposure.

It was the day Sarutobi-sensei taught them about Nature Transformation and showed them how to test their individual affinity for themselves. That day, Orochimaru discovered he had an affinity for all five of the chakra elements, with wind being especially well-developed within his system. Jiraiya was told to have command over several of the elements as well, with fire being his dominant unit.

"Alright!" Jiraiya exulted.

"What are you happy about?" Orochimaru wanted to know. "Is it because fire has the advantage against wind? You realize it isn't going to help your chances against me."

"Of course not, you dummy," his white-haired comrade retorted, looking a little hurt. "It's 'cause only fire can work so well with the wind. It goes to prove we'll be an awesome team."

Orochimaru was not convinced at the time. "Hm. We'll see."

He joins his hands, now, as he compiles chakra into his throat, gushing out a great wind influx that blows grit into Hanzo's eyes, forcing the man to squint. A blazing cannonball of fire smites into Hanzo's side as Jiraiya releases a powerful fire jutsu simultaneously, the flames enforced by the wind, sending the Hidden Rain leader flying even as they scorch him beyond recognition.

For a moment, the inside of the Rashomon enclosure looks like hell incarnate—the toothed guises of three demons overlooking the lupine raid of the fire as a single wretch faces an eternity of torment within the boiling furnace.

"Did we… get him?" Jiraiya groans in a strained voice, mouth smoldering from the power of his fire jutsu. Orochimaru is scant of breath himself. They are all nearing their respective limits.

"Yeah…" Tsunade says uncertainly. "Did we?"

"Examine the corpse," Orochimaru huffs as he allows the triple walls to slump back below ground.

They all draw closer, lean over the burnt body cautiously. The man—or what's left of him—is black and formless, and smells like death should. Tsunade covers her lower face with a gloved hand, and Jiraiya looks away almost instantly. Orochimaru looks over the conquered enemy for a while, curiosity painted on his face, in part scanning for possible signs of life (which is rather unthinkable, considering), in part marveling at his masterful work. They have done it, truly done it—

Then the clone melts away, eliciting small gasps from all three of them.

Of course. That's why the salamander has not dissipated from within the clenching helix of Manda's body. Orochimaru is caught in an odd mixture of respect for this man who is on a completely different level than them, and the anxiety of a snake that is beginning to realize it's being cornered.

"I admit it," Hanzo of the Salamander says as he reemerges from inside his lizard's mouth, masked once again. "The three of you are worthy of facing the real me."

Hanzo's hands join in a succession of seals Orochimaru does not recognize. The gaping wound on his salamander that's been worked open by Tsunade's splitting whack begins to fume and fizz. "Manda," Orochimaru warns.

"I know," the snake replies irritably.

But before Manda can disengage from the beast, it bites into his tail and drags him underground. Orochimaru leaps in the air, openmouthed. There is some dreadful, muted howling as the earth vibrates from the colliding beasts that have invaded its womb, and then the wretched sounds come to a sharp and sudden end.

The salamander grubs its way out, screeching victoriously, or just hungrily. There is no trace of Manda.

Orochimaru's eyes widen incredulously. Could his summoning have truly fallen? "Manda…?"

"Your familiar has chosen to abandon this battlefield sooner than face death," Hanzo explains disparagingly. "It was a rather disgraceful act. You should have trained it better."

"We don't need your smug advices," Jiraiya growls and lunges forward.

The battle resumes.

Katsuyu and Gamabunta do their best against the salamander's merciless onslaught, but it doesn't take a man of great intelligence to grasp that they are vastly outmatched, especially without Manda, who is always the third piece of the puzzle, the one who makes their attacks click into place.

"I'm at my limit, lady Tsunade," Katsuyu heaves thinly at some point.

"Sorry, Jiraiya…" Gamabunta wheezes as well. "I knew I… should have cut on those damn pipes…"

They both fade away, two neat puffs of milk-white, curly smoke. Orochimaru grits his teeth. Like they were never here.

The three of them touch down on the ground. Orochimaru senses the beginnings of anguish creep into his teammates' stances as the salamander looms over the three of them, its imposing presence causing them to seem small and defenseless. It's almost like they're little children all over again, fighting to get those bells from Sarutobi-sensei. The man had been so out of their league, even Orochimaru had felt powerless. We got the bells in the end though, Tsunade and I. As for Jiraiya... Jiraiya has grown much since then, even Orochimaru can admit to this.

They can handle this enemy. They must. Orochimaru has grander plans for himself than dying a pathetic death in the middle of a godforsaken, miserable land, surrounded by nothing but filth and mire, slaughtered like a simple pig in the rain. Such death is beneath him.

Hanzo's gaze falls heavily on the three members of team Hiruzen. "Now, where were we?"

The man renews his attack, calm and methodical as ever, as if the recent fighting hasn't reflected on his stamina in the slightest. The growing lassitude, however, is catching up with the three of them at alarming rates.

One of Jiraiya's fire techniques dies out in the form of sorry ashes on his breath; Tsunade slips on an explosive tag and nearly gets blown to bits, with Jiraiya spearing into her to shove them both to safety at the last moment; even Orochimaru is ashamed to admit that his body is beginning to betray him, to the point where he has trouble returning to his human form after a partial snake transformation.

This can't go on for much longer.

Orochimaru dashes and darts and twists his body to deflect the fatal grasp of the giant lizard, nearly slipping on the redness of death that glazes the land, thick and dark, sluicing from trampled corpses that have become part of the earth. As he keeps on dancing precariously across the backs of dead allies, all those dull eyes staring up at him, pithless and unseeing, a single thought jars against the inner walls of his skull over and over like a rabid bat: they can't win this.

It's only going to get worse, Orochimaru knows. They're headed no place good, the way they're currently setting about it. They need to do something. And they need to do it fast, before any of them—

Tsunade's scream tears through the field like nails scraping down a blackboard. Orochimaru stops dead in his tracks. He turns at its direction slowly, so very slowly, already knowing what he is going to find.

One of Hanzo's water techniques has successfully propelled Tsunade away from her teammates and into the man's grasp. He is holding her by the hair, the crook of his kusarigama hovering at her throat in a wordless threat. At first Orochimaru wonders why she isn't fighting back, but then he spots the explosive tags that braid at her feet. She'd normally work her way around them, but looking over her face, Orochimaru becomes conscious of the utter exhaustion that's scrunched her fine features. She has never looked frailer, her skin white and slick with sweat, deep half-moons creeping under her eyes as if she is about to drop off any moment now.

Tsunade's knees tremble as Hanzo forces her hands behind her head in an effective iron grip.

"Surrender your weapons, or she dies."

Orochimaru sets his teeth.

Now it's all fallen on him. Because Jiraiya doesn't want to—will never—do it, it's fallen on Orochimaru to face the dire facts: they have no way of winning, no way of helping Tsunade, and no way of escaping. At this rate, we'll all die. They'll die, and Orochimaru's ambition will be lost forever. No. He can't have that. He will not have it. Orochimaru's eyes expand with malevolent determination. I will not die before I have discovered it all, and made it my possession.

If they are going to survive this, they are in need of something special indeed. The only special thing they have left in their arsenal that Orochimaru can think of is the element of sheer surprise. Surprise and necessary sacrifices. Orochimaru closes his eyes. Just like with the bell test... one of us will have to end up on the log.

He conjures the thick, olive-scaled serpent that has been serving as keeper to the Kusanagi from the depths of his throat, and watches as the blade unravels from its snake sheath sleekly. Hanzo apparently takes it for an act of surrendering weapons, because he does not move to harm Tsunade.

Sword half-hanging from his mouth, Orochimaru squints at his female comrade, searching for her eyes. There, he is relieved to find understanding. Their eyes lock for the briefest of moments, cool hazel wordlessly querying unflinching copper. Tsunade purses her cracked lips—clearly she hasn't had time to mend the broken flesh as it's not like her to grow neglectful, especially when it comes to her own rules—fiery and defiant as he's ever seen her.

"Do it," she mouths.

That is all the prompting Orochimaru needs. Without second thoughts, he projectiles the sword out of his body in a swift rush of air. There is only so much the Hidden Rain leader can do in this brief window to avert the fatal trajectory.

Hanzo's eyes widen ever so slightly as he looks down between himself and Tsunade, where the bad end of a sword exits her bloodied chest to drive deeply into his, connecting their heaving bodies with its crimson-stained blade. Before he crumbles, Hanzo exhales deeply through his two-cartridge mask, the purple gas hissing vindictively. The poison seeps into Tsunade's deep stab wound, causing her to scream raggedly as her blood begins to churn, body gone limp like a rag doll's.

Orochimaru's ears pick up on Tsunade's gagged gasp as she coughs out gore and gastric juices among other questionable bodily fluids, the black bile scarfing her chin and throat morbidly. Her torn up sounds are quickly followed by a wild curse emitted by Jiraiya. Orochimaru closes his eyes for an instant. He is definitely going to be mad about this.

Orochimaru leaps forward, Jiraiya hot on his heels, either in a rush to retrieve Tsunade's broken body or kill his dark-haired teammate. Orochimaru can't be certain which is Jiraiya's priority at this point.

Hanzo reaches over Tsunade's quaking form and wraps his hand around the handle of the Kusanagi, pulling the blade out of her blood-soaked flak vest. Orochimaru bends his index and middle fingers, redirecting the blade. Hanzo pushes Tsunade's numb body forward. Orochimaru skims past her, lets her hit the ground, never straining from his initial target.

He elongates his neck and bites into the enemy's collar, his Kusanagi drifting into the man's lower chest and belly from the other side. Blood spurts, thick and red, and Orochimaru licks it greedily. He will take as much as he can, as an act of vengeance for what he has been forced to do to his teammate, as well as a way of claiming his well-deserved spoils of war.

The salamander disappears, signaling its master's death. Orochimaru turns his head, still teeth deep into Hanzo's pulse. He is met by Jiraiya's coal black eyes, wide with shock as he holds Tsunade's lifeless body, staring into his dark-haired teammate with a look of sheer… disgust? Hatred? Wretchedness?

Orochimaru catches a glimpse of his own reflection in his teammate's glassy eyes—a terrifying, unnatural creature with sickly white skin, an oblong neck and the eyes of a reptile, feasting hungrily on its prey.

Something catches in Orochimaru's throat. He isn't sure what it is, but for a moment, a foolish part of him nearly wants to take back what has just transpired.

But that's preposterous. What he sees in Jiraiya's eyes, it's what he is, what he has willingly become. It's what he needs to be, to fulfill his life-long ambition. And he'd stop at nothing to achieve that. He'd claw his way to the all-knowledge if he had to walk over the corpses of every man, woman and child that ever lived. That's right, Jiraiya. Fear me. You will do well to be fearful of who I am.It is about time it got through to the white-haired man that Orochimaru doesn't conform to his unsophisticated fantasies about brotherhood and comradeship. I am not your brother and I am not your comforter. Frogs and serpents do not mingle.

Tsunade's death has been a paltry price to pay. This, this has been necessary. The death of others is insignificant to him to begin with. Orochimaru is going to achieve immortality. He, whom they call a genius. He, who is destined to uncover the secrets of life and death. He, who never looked for warmth and yet had it delivered by his comrades, selflessly and stupidly—

"Orochimaru! Snap out of it, goddammit!"

Orochimaru inhales sharply as he feels an intrusive chakra flow interrupt his own. He looks both ways, wide-eyed, cold sweat beading between his knotted eyebrows. His teammates are there, on either side of him, regarding him with worried faces. Each has placed a hand on his shoulder, a common way of breaking a man free from a genjutsu.

Of course it's been a genjutsu. Tsunade's cracked lips— that alone should have tipped him off. What's more, Hanzo has no reason to keep Tsunade hostage. He'd kill her on the spot, because Orochimaru and Jiraiya aren't enough of a threat to be bargained with. Orochimaru grits his teeth, feeling disgraceful for getting played like this. But why show him this, of all things? Orochimaru knows too well that there are plenty of other, simpler mechanisms to torture a mind, any mind. Whereas this... this has been personal.

Orochimaru struggles to swim out of his inner confusion and set his mind back in order.

Have I really… allowed myself to fall for such a cheap trick?

His breathing slowly returns to normal as he takes in his surroundings, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that the genjutsu has been cast. His anger only grows when he is unable to figure it out.

"Don't sweat it," Jiraiya pats him on the back, impossibly patronizing. "Happens even to the best and brightest."

It doesn't happen to me, Orochimaru wants to hiss, but he is still fighting the residue images of Tsunade's stilled corpse and Jiraiya's accusatory eyes in his head to form much of an articulate speech.

"Why?" Orochimaru asks hoarsely, the question unambiguously directed at Hanzo.

The man crosses his arms. "I can see you are not like the rest of your fellow soldiers. Different ties bind you to the path of the shinobi... darker thoughts, darker desires. I was interested to see for myself... if you were willing to pay the price for the path you have chosen."

A test, then. From the look the man is giving him, Orochimaru can't decide whether he has passed or failed. Not that it matters to him. If there's one thing past ignorance that Orochimaru detests in this world, it is being made a fool of.

This man… He has seen through him, and facilitated an illusion so exquisite that it has worked things open inside Orochimaru he has only been half-cognizant of up until now. Orochimaru feels his wrath upsurge. He never allows anyone so close to himself as to let them read him. And yet this man has the impudence to presume to instill misplaced care in his heart… Orochimaru wants nothing more than to tear his head off.

He almost gives in to his rage. Almost. In the end, his calculative side prevails, somehow, driving sense back into his mind. He of all people cannot afford for his emotions to get him killed. He, who is supposed to know better.

The battle does not wait for the storm that is Orochimaru's agitated mind to cease roiling. They continue with this doomed farce for a bit, until Jiraiya is forced to pull Tsunade away from several crawling paper tags and into the hollow of his spiked hair. Orochimaru lands near them, barely standing on his feet. Tsunade is leaning against a kneeling Jiraiya, his white hair still enveloping them loosely, both breathing heavily. They each have one good technique left in them, two if they are lucky.

So that's as far as we go…

Orochimaru cannot meet his demise in a place like this. He still has so much more researching to do. So many bodies to be cut open, so many secrets to be unraveled to his ever-curious gaze. This can't be it.

But Hanzo isn't killing them, for some reason. "I predict that this conflict will end with the Hidden Leaf's victory," the Hidden Rain leader says, standing tall atop of his lizard. "Which is why I have decided to spare your lives."

They all eye him dubiously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jiraiya yells, finishing on a ragged cough.

"You three are powerful… Only you have survived. I, Hanzo, hereby dub you the Sannin of the Leaf. Refer to yourselves as such in return for having your lives spared. In exchange for this benevolence, I expect you to tell me your names."

"We can still fight!" Jiraiya bellows.

"Stop it, Jiraiya!" Tsunade cuts him off wisely.

Orochimaru has no delusions about their situation. If they keep struggling, they'll die like fools. This, this is no charity. Not in the true sense of the word. This man is a collector, of sorts. Orochimaru can relate to this. Their dignity is the price for their lives.

Again, it's fallen on him to act.

Orochimaru opens his mouth, speaking the three words—the three names—that end up saving their lives. In exchange, they acquire a single name, one that ties the three of them together, binds them to the memory of this fateful day. A name Orochimaru suspects they will soon be whispering with respect and fear everywhere throughout the five great nations. Perhaps even beyond.

The Legendary Sannin...They have earned this and more, him and his teammates. Those two might have their faults, but when it truly counts, they are the only people Orochimaru will concede to calling his equals.

When Orochimaru first found out who his teammates would be, he was beyond certain no good would come from it. Jiraiya was too gullible and rambunctious to be a ninja. With his perverted ways, he'd be killed or incarcerated for peeking on some high-up's daughter all within their first mission. Tsunade was just spoilt. She probably wouldn't be able to throw a decent punch without complaining about how much it hurt, and her gambling habits would no doubt cause them to end up at... unsavory places. Yes, Orochimaru thought firmly. He had definitely lucked out on the worst possible teammates. His only consolation was that the two of them would probably be dead within a year.

That has not been the case. The both of them have somehow proven him thoroughly wrong, even though their minor vices still irritate him on occasion, Jiraiya with his debauchery and Tsunade with her obsessive gambling. But at the same time, it is clear that Jiraiya has learned to see beyond his innate short-sightedness, and act responsibly within a team. And Tsunade... Her punches are the deadliest Orochimaru has ever witnessed. Sometimes he can hardly believe it is the same hands that tear through rock and flesh that can be so gentle when they hover over his wounds and work them closed with unmatched expertise.

Orochimaru has long since lost count of the times they have saved each other's lives on the field of battle. Even just now, as they faced Hanzo, it was their good teamwork that kept them alive.

No, Orochimaru thinks. He has not lucked out on the worst possible teammates after all.

In the end, Orochimaru concludes the both of them can be quite sensible. For always turning a blind eye to the hunger in his gaze whenever he cuts people open with his sword. For being levelheaded enough to survive the ultimate test of their skill against Hanzo. But mostly for not asking him what had transpired within the Hidden Rain despot's unfortunate genjutsu trap.

At least the inconvenient question has not been directed at him as of yet. There's no guarantee they won't ask him eventually. He'd lie to them if it came to it, of course. He just isn't sure he'd lie well enough. And that might turn into a problem.


notes:
1. So there it is! I have to say I had fun writing this. I mean, even more so than usual. This chapter might be a bit more emotional than what you guys are used to, but I am nonetheless very happy with how it's turned out. Feedback would be very much appreciated! I know I always say that, but this time I mean it, lol. Go. Comment. Now.
2. On a more serious note, I want you guys to know I really appreciate the support this story is getting. That applies to both regular reviewers and silent readers. And I know for a fact there's a considerable amount of the latter. Either that or traffic graph is shamelessly lying to my face, lol. In any event, I am grateful for all my readers, outspoken and silent. Reviews are wonderful and really make my day (and sometimes motivate me to sit on my ass and write faster), but it also makes me happy to see how many people who choose not to comment still come back to this story. So yes, big big big thanks to everyone. You rock.