The Great Treasures.

Konoha, 12th March
Year of the Hare

Naruto had said some amazing things on his life. That was a fact that no one, not even Sasuke, could deny. Though not necessarily the sharpest Kunai in the set, Naruto's intrinsic talent for capturing even the most guarded of hearts was something of legend. He couldn't be described as an oratory - not with a vocabulary so limited, it would have been more at home printed on thick cardboard in primary colours - but what naruto lacked in verbosity, he gained in persistence, volume, and a faultless optimism. Naruto believed in what he said and that made his audience believe it, even if what he said was complete shit. Conviction was hard to mimic and conviction was everything. Along with his motivational prowess was his ability to make himself seen as well as heard - something, Sasuke would grumble quietly, that was aided indefinitely by the use of the tangerine two-piece - thus every naruto speech tended to be a performance worth persevering through.

Sasuke, though used to naruto's spiels, had to admit that he wasn't overjoyed to find himself the possible audience to another. But he could also say that having been on the receiving end of a good 85% of them, he had rather expected something a little more imaginative than "um".

Naruto looked outrageously guilty.

Sasuke blinked.

"That's it?"

"Um?" Naruto said again. He appeared to stall a little, unsure of how to proceed. He hadn't stopped staring at Sasuke's face, if that wasn't disconcerting enough. Those brilliant blue eyes were wide as planets. "What?"

"I said, 'is that it?'"

"Uh-"

Although both were as surprised and unprepared for the moment as the other, Sasuke could tell Naruto was probably the worst off. As much as that mouth could run, there was, on occasion, a jam in the gears. And, historically, that jam was either a) Sasuke, b) Mention of Sasuke or C) Something or someone who looked, sounded or just plain reminded Naruto of Sasuke.

The real deal, however, just cleared his throat a little, trying to decide what was best to say. He went with:

"Are... you...stealing my paper?"

Mildly accusatory, but good enough to swing his stunned mullet of a guest into a response. Naruto stared at the rolled newsprint in his hand as though seeing it for the first time.

"Yes?" He tried. Then: "N-no? I don't know."

"Kinda looks like it." Sasuke licked his lips nervously - though he did his best to make the action appear casual. His flight instinct was on overdrive. Naruto wasn't Caliga, but for a time, Caliga was Naruto. And in that guise he taunted Sasuke. Hurt him. Tortured him. His feet, though weighed down by his heavy form, remained engaged as per his training; he was ready to move at a breath of notice. His mind was automatically racing eighteen steps ahead, categorizing exit points, weapons, the positions of his daughter and housemates. Both Tsunade and Akamaru were inside. They were strong, intimidating. And they were certainly stronger than Caliga. One yell for help and they'd be at his side.

Except this wasn't Caliga. This was Naruto. It was. It was… wasn't it? Sasuke couldn't be sure and he wasn't, not for the moment. It seemed ridiculous that Caliga would be able to penetrate Konoha's defenses, that he'd be able to slide in, unnoticed and steal away the incubator for his child. But Caliga was, if anything, a master in his strange and singular skillset. And Sasuke's faith in Konoha's security was questionable at best. So he squinted a little as they sat in the tense silence, his keen eyes focused on naruto's form and mannerisms - searching for any kind of mistakes or breaks in character. His heart was in his mouth, solid, uncomfortable and his chest felt tight. He didn't know how - it was doubtful they'd ever met - but Caliga had gotten Naruto so very right every time, it was almost hard to accept the real thing. Even the eyes were the same…

… and yet, the more Sasuke looked, the more he realised that… well. They weren't. Caliga had simulated their appearance, sure - he'd even attained the right kind of crystalline blue that made Naruto's eyes his most attractive feature. But while the attributes were the same, the personality behind them wasn't. Caliga's surprise was not naruto's surprise. Caliga's composure was nothing like the blond's. He might have managed the same smile, but it wasn't as wide, and didn't show that tiny bit of tooth that was always poking out when the idiot laughed. Naruto's joy was always turned up to full, every laugh was the best laugh he'd ever emitted. Caliga mostly sneered or laughed without mirth. When Sasuke really began to think about it, perhaps the foreigner wasn't so close after all. Perhaps Sasuke was just so out of touch with how naruto looked these days. Perhaps it was only the dream version that remained stuck in his head.

Loving.

Crying.

Screaming.

Sasuke squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again to the real Naruto. Caliga might have copied the look, but he hadn't gotten the feel. Naruto exuded warmth like sunshine - probably something to do with the massive amount of chakra inside him - and retained a kind of infallible earnestness to him that just bred and multiplied until it became contagious. Even crouched on the cold wooden balcony, silent, the tufts of his sunny hair picking up in the breeze, Sasuke felt more from Naruto that he ever had with Caliga wearing his guise.

He relaxed, though his relief was only surface deep. Inside, he was still in turmoil. His fear wouldn't let anxiety slide, anger was still present for the very catalyst of his predicament was sitting there in front of him and guilt sidled shamefaced to one side, reminding him of his actions toward his friend. His brother. His-

"I uh… I thought… Thought you wouldn't really care for the… y'know… stories." Naruto explained, lamely. "Y'know, c-cos they're about…"

"Me?"

"Yeah," There was an audible gulp. "Thought you… wouldn't care for them..."

"I can decide that for myself." Sasuke said automatically. Naruto appeared to wilt.

"Y-yeah… 'course… But-"

Naruto petered off, feeling his voice die in his throat. Slowly, as though he almost couldn't decide what he wanted to do, he pushed up to his feet and leaned back against the balcony railing. His eyes were aimed at his sandals. Sasuke watched him warily, trying to swallow around the vital organs lodged in his mouth. It was automatic, so automatic, this banter. This ire. He couldn't help it. It was unfair, but he just couldn't help himself. Sure, he was angry that their battle had ended so badly and he'd been left so damn helpless, but what the hell was Naruto supposed to do ? It wasn't really his fault. They'd gone to a fight, fair and square. Sasuke was the one who'd pulled the tricks; Naruto had only retaliated with the one thing he had over his difficult friend: Power. He'd always had more power. Always.

No… not just power. It wasn't just that at all….

It wasn't just power because you'd gotten into it too, hadn't you? Sasuke's mind chastised. He'd fallen in love with you - he is in love with you - and you liked that and you wanted more of that, didn't you? You almost didn't go through with the whole plan because you saw what it was like to be with him. You felt the warmth of his body. You filled up on the unlimited gift of his love. Cos it stopped all that coldness; it got rid of the holes. You remembered feeling complete for the first time in years with him…

You loved him back. You did.

But if you're anything, Uchiha Sasuke… You're a stickler for a plan.

And you had to win.

His hand ached to rub at his chest, to where it hurt, but instead he held it out for the paper, palm up. He looked at Naruto almost coldly, though it was simply that he didn't trust himself with any other expression. Ambiguity was strength.

"Give me the paper."

"There are misprints." Naruto lied. "It's just all stories about cats. Old Ladies with cats. Making the longest scarves in the world. Yeah. Seriously, it's trash. You don't need it." But there was a pavlovian response beyond his control, and before he knew it the paper was in Sasuke's hand. He turned it over, glancing at the headline, which announced the discovery of Uchiha Sasuke buying groceries in the west side of town. The west side - where he'd never gone or been able to walk to anyway. So that was Naruto. And in fact, when he looked at the blurry, ink-saturated photo, obviously Naruto.

Naruto himself, however, was shifting his feet awkwardly, unsure of how to stand or what to say. Was Sasuke offended that he'd tried to look like him? Did he think the plan was stupid? And to look at him now, this close, it was ludicrous to think he'd considered himself a good representation of the real thing. Sasuke looked nothing like his former self - God he was thin. He looked thin from his window, but in front of him, he was just tiny. That hand could have slid through raindrops. And he smelled like medication. And there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His Sasuke had the Sasuke of the celebrated past - something much more… Sasuke-like. This Sasuke, this Sasuke was…

Naruto couldn't stop staring. He - didn't want to blink lest the boy before him was a dream and faded away again. He hadn't ever been this close to Sasuke. Hadn't spoken to him. He'd watched but that wasn't the same thing. This was real. This was him. And they were, arguing over a stupid paper like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't ruined Sasuke's life after Sasuke ruined his. Dream or no, he still felt that ache inside. He licked his lips, easing up slowly, icing over on the inside.

Did he hate him? Did he? Did-

"A-anyway," he continued. "Um… So… 's been awhile, huh? Um… Hi Sasuke." Oh… redundant. So damn redundant! Naruto groaned inwardly before making a subsequent attempt. "It's good to see you." Much better. That was much better. Then Sasuke said:

"Is it?"

"Well, yeah. 'Course." Naruto wavered for a mere second before rallying. Of course it was, that was obvious. Right? He ignored the fact that he probably looked about as resolute as a straw castle and sounded as convincing as Kakashi on his best lie. "I-I mean, you're back now. You're back home."

"Home?"

"Y-yeah. Konoha's home, right?" Naruto coaxed. Sasuke stiffened.

"Konoha ceased to be home the day they razed the Uchiha compound to the ground," he replied, woodenly. It was lies. Konoha was more of a home to Sasuke than anywhere - his other abodes he'd simply inhabited, calling them HQ, or Main Camp. But he couldn't admit to that. Because he was a fucking moron. A fucking stubborn moron. One hand slowly fell to the rise of his stomach as the baby punted him on the inside - sensitive to his rapid pulse, his stress. He licked his lips again. "I'm… here because it's convenient."

"I-I know," Naruto said, almost sadly. "I know that. But… Y'know. You're here. Never… Never thought you'd come back and-" And we have so much to talk about. I have so much I need to tell you. I don't even know where to start.

"I wouldn't have if you hadn't put me in a position that left me few choices."

Oh that was cruel. That was cruel and Sasuke knew it but he couldn't help himself. The truth was there, pushed forward by his nerves. He knew it was Naruto, but he still saw Caliga in that face. In that body. Should he go back in? Disappear back to bed? No. No, Uchiha Sasuke ran from nothing. Nothing. Not from the man who stole his powers. Not from the man who… who… who…

Loved you.

He let out another breath, his heart sinking at the soul-puncturing look Naruto's eyes. The same look he'd worn at Orochimaru's hideout all those years ago, only that version was weighted by his failure to save a friend and fulfill a promise to a teammate. This time, the look was overladen with guilt and shame and Sasuke didn't like it. Naruto was an idiot, but he didn't deserve to bear the culpability of a phenomenon that wasn't entirely his doing. He was angry, yes - he had a right to be. But at the same time he was just as liable as the other. Naruto had been trying to stop him. Naruto had been the one on the defensive.

Sasuke made to open his mouth, to say something, anything, but for once Naruto beat him to it.

"I didn't know what I did. I don't know how it happened," he explained, quietly, hating the gap between them, but relieved that, for the moment, they still weren't quite in a believable space together. To bridge it. To touch… that would make everything real. That would make Sasuke being here a possible thing, however implausible.

It would mean he'd have to be responsible for his feelings.

It would mean he'd have to accept Sasuke's for him, however they might lean.

He almost wished they were standing before the valley of the end again - not like they had at the end of the war, but the first time. Everything had been easier then. Ignorance was, in this case, far preferable to guilt. Naruto shook his head. "And.. and so much happened. I want…. Sasuke… After what happened, I just w-"

"The clones were a good idea." Sasuke interrupted, quickly. He seemed almost surprised that he'd said it. Maybe that wasn't a conversation he wanted right now. Maybe it was better to stick with the simple things. But Naruto, who was never one to perform a particularly graceful about turn - verbal or otherwise - looked stumped.

"Eh?"

"The diversion. The clones. It was a good idea. Stupid, but," Sasuke shrugged. "Might be stupid enough to work.

"I just… thought it would be easier that way. People will be looking for a Sasuke who looks like… you know." Naruto's eyes rolled down to Sasuke's middle, again, following the curve of his sweatshirt with a kind of torrid fascination. There wasn't much to see, Sasuke wasn't particularly round - not yet - but the presence was there. He could sense the chakra. It was young, beautiful, but it wasn't Sasuke's chakra. "S-So no one knows about the baby or your tummy, ah... you know. Your, uh… preg... puh…"

"No, they won't." Sasuke finished. "Not for a while at least. Not if I can help it. At least until the time when I'm called to-"

"...msorry"

"What?"

"I said… I-I said… I…. Sasuke, I'm sorry!" Naruto blurted out abruptly. "I'm sorry! I didn't… I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't want you to get hurt! I just wanted you to come back. A-and not to kill me. But having you back was the most important! I don't know what happened after the war, I don't know why you… you wanted to do all that stuff and kill the Kages and all that, but-"

"I told you why. I made myself clear," Sasuke shot back, stonily. "You never listen. You never goddamn listen-"

"I was just trying to make it right! I was-"

"You being right? Which makes me wrong. I didn't think I was wrong, Naruto. I still don't-"

"No! Shut up. That's not what I meant to say. It's coming out wrong. It always comes out wrong. A-and you…" Naruto stopped. Blinked. Sasuke didn't… what. Think murder was wrong? But- "D-do… Do you… still want to kill me?"

"No. No, you idiot." Sasuke sighed, the exchange relaxing him somewhat. Caliga hadn't been much for the banter either - not in the way that he was used to. Caliga would boast and sneer, but Naruto left embarrassing openings and often repeated himself for the chance at a better comeback. This was authentic Uzumaki bumbling. "Obviously that isn't the case anymore. I'm in no position to try to kill anyone. Maybe." He added for good measure. "There are aspects of the Shinobi way, parts of the system I don't agree with. Many, in fact. There are many things that are just… archaic. Stupid." He sighed. "I have no choice but to surrender to them now, though."

"So….so you're staying?" Naruto looked hopeful. Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"Do I look like I have any other choice?"

"You look tired." Naruto said. "Look like you've been through hell. A hell… I can't even begin to understand-"

"This isn't about you."

"I know! I know that, but I-"

"-Any of it. I don't expect you to understand, because you won't. Stop trying to take the blame; you put me on a different path, that's all."

"I put you on… B-but Sasuke," Naruto seemed dazed, which wasn't uncommon. There was a softness to his voice, a kind of gentle regret that made him want to reach out, close the distance between the two. He took a step forward, his arm outstretched, palm flat as though to place his hand on Sasuke's shoulder, but let out a yelp of surprise when Sasuke jerked backward violently. The dark eyes were wide, his face pale.

Too close too closetooclose get away too close...

There was no thought. It was complete impulse only. Sasuke gasped at the looming embrace, his mind flicking to such dark places that he launched back against the door; the movement so abrupt and forceful he overbalanced and lost his footing. Unthinking, Naruto shot forward, catching his friend before he could hit the floor. His arms wrapped around the other, protecting him, holding him close. Sasuke landed on him as though he were a rather poorly placed landing pad and they lay together for a moment in a tangle of limbs and confusion. Sasuke felt the lack of hesitance in Naruto's body and Naruto felt the warmth of his friend, the slightness of him. The pulse of the child within him, a flicker of warmth against his skin. Then Sasuke was pushing him away with all his might - hands, feet, shoulders, everything involved.

"G-get off me… get off! Get away!" He hissed, but the words sounded almost foreign and were chased by a few that Naruto didn't recognise at all. He moved back, out of the way of Sasuke's fingers, but didn't let go. Not yet.

"Sasuke…"

"..go... to h-hell. Go to hell!" Sasuke snarled, finally ripping himself out from Naruto's grasp, sprawling in his efforts to retreat toward the door. His dark eyes were painfully wide, his mouth twisted into a grimace, cheeks were struck with pink against the dead pallor of his skin. He was breathing hard, his hand stretched in front of him to put the distance back between them. Naruto, completely floored, slipped away and backed up against the railing.

"I didn't… I wasn't going to... "

"What the hell is going on!" Tsunade roared. She was at the door faster than Naruto could even blink with Akamaru at her heels, looking set to pounce until he saw who what at the door.

"Naruto?"

"I didn't do anything!" Naruto panted, his eyes fixed on Sasuke. The other was pressed against the door, his hand over his face as he tried to calm down. Tsunade dropped down to his side in an instant, her arms around him, helping him stand. He didn't appear hurt, and since it was Naruto himself who was the only other person in the vicinity, it was likely Sasuke had experienced some kind of panic attack, or simply just couldn't handle his emotions. Many would argue that Sasuke was about as emotional as a brick, but Tsunade knew of two people who could easily elicit a response from him - good or bad. She offered Naruto a sympathetic glance.

"I think it's time we went inside."

"I didn't-"

"I know. But Sasuke is not well, Naruto. He needs to rest. I'm sure he's glad you visited."

"Doesn't look glad." Naruto murmured, sliding his lower lip under his teeth, his expression wrought with concern. Sasuke wasn't looking at him. He wasn't' really looking at anything. "Is… Is he mad at me, Tsunade-baba?"

"Naruto, I don't think-"

"I told you!" Sasuke said, his voice as unstable as his composure. "I told you, this isn't about you. Not everything is about you, Naruto, but butting into other people's business is what you always end up doing. Making me your mission. Making me your problem. I never wanted that. I told you. I t- told…"

Perhaps more embarrassed or exasperated than afraid at this point, Sasuke sagged against his caregiver, trying to catch his breath. Naruto looked crestfallen - so much that Akamaru stepped around the others and pushed his nose into the jinchuuriki's hand, his tail low.

"Come, I will walk you to gate."

"Akamaru? Is he saying things? I don't understand when he's saying things," Naruto said in a tight voice to no one in particular. But he let himself be led by the ninken, sidling miserably along the railing until he reached the stairs. "I d-didn't… I didn't do anything. Is he ok? I didn't…"

"It's been a long day." Tsunade sighed. "I think Sasuke would like to be alone for a little while." She didn't want to put words in his mouth, but Sasuke didn't look up to dealing with Naruto for much longer. He leaned on her and she walked backwards, slowly. "Maybe another time."

"O-ok." Naruto replied, quietly. Oh that worry. That pain. That was Naruto all over. It was one thing knowing Sasuke was unwell and needed help, it was another experiencing his pain in person. He reached down to pat Akamaru a little, then turned to leave, but not before Sasuke managed to croak:

"Usuratonkachi..."

"Y-yeah, b-bastard?" It was an automatic response - well rehearsed, often employed and it slipped out before Naruto could even think. Yet while he almost looked horrified at himself for saying it, Sasuke seemed to breath something of a sigh of relief with those words, which stayed Tsunade's fist. She let him stand alone as he rested his hand against the doorjamb, straightening his sweatshirt as he muttered:

"Parchement. Ink. I need some," he didn't, but what the hell. "You know what I use."

"S-sure," Naruto brightened instantly. He nodded with such enthusiasm, he cracked his head against one of the hanging baskets and spilled half a pot of dead petunias on the floor. "Oops… B-but yeah… Um, sorry about that. I can get that stuff for you! You want it t-"

"Tomorrow." Sasuke finished for him. "And don't steal my damn paper again."

The Kusagakure plains were a wide grass sea that made the stars seem far brighter and colder than they seemed near the mountains. Caliga was from a land where the cold was not uncommon. He didn't mind the chill of the air, the crisp evenings or the damp from the grass and the earth that seeped in through the floorboards of his little stolen house. Those things were nothing to him. He'd lived in colder, fought in damper… The people of this land built stronger houses. Found better materials. Caliga's people were not the same - they were people of huts and hearths, not cities and roads. The invaders had cities and roads. They'd tried to build cities and roads for Caliga's people. Caliga's people weren't particularly grateful for that.

The foreigner stretched his long legs in front of him, sucking on a cigarette as he read the night sky. Smoking wasn't really something he cared much for - not here, anyway, for the inhalant that was available in these lands was acrid tasting and synthetic, nothing like the hemp he was used to. But it calmed him some. Numbed the pain a little. His leg had mended, finally - he knew he'd been right to get that Kakkou bastard to set it correctly before he slit his throat. The fool. Caliga relished the look of surprise and horror on his face when he'd pressed his dagger to his throat. The old goat had honestly believed he was one of them. That he was bonded to their cause. That he would look for survivors; send for help. Caliga laughed in his face and whispered the name of the Bloody One before he slit the druid's throat. Caliga worked for Caliga. And now he answered to no one.

That druid had been the last of the Kakkou at this point. The great earthshake had done him a favor by crushing the faction in one swift, clean swoop, leaving only a couple of scouts for Caliga to pick off himself. Though having a few lackeys at his side to through any curious shinobi off his scent would have been helpful, Caliga preferred to work alone. They may have all been called "Kakkou" in this land, but they were not his kin; he felt no affinity to them. And, if he did end up in need of help, more would come in due course. They were a while away - there was still another breeding season booked for this year, but when the others did not return with their precious cargo, they would come.

But at this moment, Caliga was feeling fortunate. He was alive and free to operate without side-stepping operations and questions. He knew the mother of his son was alive and where he was hiding. All his ducks were lining up in rows, pretty rows and Sasuke made two. The third? Well… that he'd have to wait for. That one would require far more precision, being as powerful as they were. Caliga was one man and this land was full of powerful ninja. He might have been a warrior for his people (and perhaps, had he been given the chance, he might have worn the blue of Kings), Caliga was nowhere near the level of even the most inexperienced ninja. He was strong, but the Shinobi had strength and power. He was skilled with an axe and a sword, but he'd witnessed a child emit fire from her lips, and a young man shoot lightning from his fingertips. Many years ago, he would have thought they were Gods.

Only Gods were immortal and these people bled. Died. Caliga had tested that on many occasions. And while the ninja were indeed powerful, Caliga had acquired the blessed artifacts of the Bloody One to even the battlefield. One, a sword, he'd stolen back from a raid on Magh Slécht, the other he'd retrieved from the rocky tomb of the druids themselves. Then, of course, there was his abilities honored by blood: the ability to change his shape at will and fool shinobi with a flawless disguise. He knew they measured an energy called chakra, could mould it, could use it like a tool or weapon, but their stealth ability seemed to be flawed in that they also detect and read chakra when it was being manipulated. Naturally, more skill offered more disguise, but that was something long learned with much practice. Caliga didn't have the time to practice, but he also didn't have or require chakra to be able to use his glamor. And in that sense he was untraceable. Dead still within their silence; a giant hiding in plain sight.

Drawing in a long breath, Caliga slowly got to his feet, letting his damaged bones adjust to the cold. He was stiff still, but he could fight. His leg was painful, but he could run and pain was not something that had ever bothered him. His treasured sword lay on the stoop beside him and he picked it up in one hand. It was heavy, thick. It had a broad shaft and a heavy crossguard, balanced by an equally weighty pommel. He'd seen Shinobi use all kinds of weapons - including swords that were far bigger than their own slender, faelike bodies - but this sword was of his people and forged of their Gods. It might have appeared plain and uninspiring in comparison to the beautiful folded steel of the shinobi, but it had power. A power he knew, and they did not.

Straightening, he adjusted his ruined leather jerkin and draped a long travelling cloak about his shoulders, snorting at the pitiful length. The hem barely reached his knees. He secured his sword about his waist, hiding it from view as best he could, then slung his bag over one shoulder. With a breath, and a mercurial motion, he slipped into a guise that was more fitting to the area - a young, dark-haired man with pointed features and a slighter build than his own. This guise would have him appear more like the other treasure - make the lie he'd told to keep it safe all the more believable.

The stars were bright and cold but they were a fine compass this night. Caliga rolled his shoulders. He took one glance to the South where Sasuke hid, growing full and fat with his son, before he turned on his heel and headed East.

"Guess you saw the paper, huh?"

To say he was unimpressed was an overestimation, almost everything Orochimaru did was never really that creditable to Suigetsu. In truth, he was usually more horrified by the snake sannin than he was awed. But the years had kept them together, and the edge that the younger man used to feel around his creator had dulled somewhat. From mad and dangerous, to eccentric, Orochimaru was a changed man by the end of the fourth ninja war. Quite literally.

This was a slightly different situation, however. The pair were not in Orochimaru's war room, nor one of his many laboratories or even his dungeons. They were, in fact, in a rather lavish parlor of which Suigetsu couldn't remember having ever visited. It was lined from wall to wall with racks of lavish garments: kimono, furisode, haori and hakama, evening dresses, tuxedos and great coats. It was eight o' clock in the evening. For most of the day Suigetsu had been haunting the halls of the hideout, searching for his boss who had disappeared shortly after breakfast and hadn't been spotted since. Given the feature articles in both the morning and evening papers from Konoha, Suigetsu wondered if the Sannin might have run off to do something drastic.

He wasn't worried, per se. Just… well… The pay here was good. Sort of. Sort of good. Alright, the pay was non-existant and sure, Orochimaru treated him more like a small, entertaining animal than he did a colleague, but still. Still. It was probably good form to find out if your boss had gone off to get himself arrested or something.

But Orochimaru hadn't left at all. In fact, he'd spent and inordinate amount of time here with his clothes, trying things on, preening in front of a full-length mirror, exchanging one garment after the next. Suigetsu had watched him mutely for a while, convinced that he'd either blown a fuse somewhere or was trying really hard not to let the news affect him but when his boss slipped into what appeared to be his twentieth kimono, the kiri-nin decided he'd had enough.

"You aren't honestly thinking of going to Konoha to see him, are you?" He said with a frown, picking at the edge of a heavily embroidered obi. Orochimaru continued to admire himself, his strange golden eyes fixed on his own reflection.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Suigetsu. I'm just having a wardrobe clear out, that's all."

"And what're ya gonna do? Pack 'em all up and sell 'em at a Sunday market? Like you even go out these days."

"Why would I part with these precious flowers?" Orochimaru raised a thin, elegant eyebrow, turning a little to ensure he had the best view of his sculpted neckline. The new body he'd chosen was smaller than the last, but unbelievably beautiful. Suigetsu had no idea where he'd acquired it (and had earned knee to the spleen when he suggested an upmarket pleasure house), but he'd certainly chosen well. As usual, the line between male and female with Orochimaru was blurred, but his grumbling (and usually somewhat pained) assistant was used to that by now. Suigetsu sucked his serrated teeth, a habit from childhood he'd never quite dropped, and waved a hand at newspaper laid flat on one of the cursive parlour tables.

"Ya didn't answer my first question."

"Question, dear? Or observation?" Orochimaru purred. "Seemed like rhetoric to me. Not really worth responding to as it is obvious that I know Sasuke-kun has returned to Konoha."

"Yeah? Didja read the bit about him at the dumpling store?"

"Yes."

"Didja see he's gone back to his blue duds?"

"Yes."

"Man… Thought he'd grown outta those. Better than that purple colour though. Always felt we looked a bit too similar, us both traipsing around in purple. Didja see-"

"I read the article, Suigetsu," Orochimaru interjected, with uncharacteristic patience. "Whatever you're going to say next, I know. I have read it, therefore I know."

"Hn," Suigetsu sniffed. He drifted across the room, shifting his attention from his boss to the collection of colourful garments cluttering the room. Some were covered in plastic, some appeared more worn-looking than the others and had notes pinned to them - most likely for mending. Some looked over a hundred years old. Suigetsu raised his snowy brows. Then he said, quietly:

"Did you see he has a kid?"

"Mm."

Orochimaru seemed to pause at that, his gaze dropping a little from his face to the floor. Suigetsu, feeling a little chastened, laughed awkwardly and followed it up with.

"Man, Karin's gonna blow a gasket, right?"

"If she does, she would be wise to keep it to herself. I am sure Sasuke has enough on his plate already."

"Why'd ya think he went back?" The frown deepened. "I mean… he hated that place. Then he wanted to protect it, but, yanno, never really seemed convinced about that - like it was someone else's idea. Juugo said he-"

"Sasuke does as Sasuke does, there's no need to analyse it." A strange comment coming from a man who was famous for analysing everything, but he added nothing else. With a roll of his elegant shoulders, Orochimaru shrugged off the peach and scarlet silk-embroidered piece to a plainer, blue cotton yukata, emblazoned with clouds. Most of his kimono were intended for women to wear, but that irksome little detail had been duly ignored in favor is his appreciation of the art he was wearing. His bodies were always intended to be one way or another traditionally, but that had never stopped him becoming whatever, or whomever pleased him. For a time, the transition had only been part of a quest for power, but since then he'd found he preferred to select a form that was more to his liking and well as containing noteable abilities. That's where Sasuke had been perfect.

And yet Sasuke was also unattainable. Which, to Orochimaru, was even better.

"But… a kid? I mean…" Suigetsu shrugged. "Seems weird, right?"

"I suppose he has his soft spots. Perhaps it is an orphan. Perhaps a wayward child from Konoha that he is returning home," Orochimaru surmised, idly. A wayward child returning… funny that. "It's not for me to say. And it is also foolish to trust the word of the media, Suigetsu. They were never particularly accurate in my day and they don't seem to have matured much farther than hearsay and gossip even now. If you want to find out the truth, you have to take it from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

"You mean… Go ask someone? You kidding, right? They'd torture me to get to you, yanno."

"Oh yes, I suppose they would," Orochimaru was smiling faintly. Suigetsu couldn't see it, but he could hear it in his damn voice, the bastard. "What a pity. I suppose you'll have to stay here."

"Whatta surprise," Suigetsu grouched. "You ain't ever going back, are ya?"

The look Orochimaru levelled at his assistant (Suigetsu couldn't be his prodigy or his protege, he simply wasn't at the level of Sasuke or of Kabuto) was one that could have caused mountains to bow. It wasn't a look he often aimed at the Kiri-nin, but when he did, he was sure he felt the other evaporate just a little.

"I might be old, Suigetsu-kun." Orochimaru said. "But I am not senile. That little copycat of mine may have managed to sweet talk his way out of capital punishment, but impressive as it is, my tongue is not as silver-lined as Yakushi's. My judgement will extend to offences far prior to the third ninja war and Danzo's little… clique. I would not be pardoned, even if I weren't executed."

"So we're just gonna stay here and… skulk?"

"You are welcome to leave if you are bored."

"Really?"

"Of course," Orochimaru smoothed the yukata over his chest and swung his long hair to one side. "Though as you say, they'd torture you to get to me so I guess it would be kinder to kill you first."

"Yeah, thought that was a bit too easy," Suigetsu snorted. Orochimaru shrugged in response but said nothing further and the room fell into the usual tentative silence that stretched between the two when Orochimaru jokingly threatened Suigestu's life, and Suigetsu either followed it up with a complimentary quip or just simply stopped complaining. Rather than prattle, he continued to peruse the lines of garments instead, taking note of the more ornate ones and their placement among the lesser, plainer pieces. After a while, he became intrigued by the way that they were grouped and wondered if Orochimaru had ordered them by age, or region - though he was certain he could recognize some of the Earth's geometric patterns against the Kiri's waves and water flowers. And some very old silks were placed next to synthetics, so neither category worked.

"Are these just…" He gestured vaguely. "...put in here randomly? Or-"

"By order of importance." Orochimaru replied.

"Like… who wore them?"

"No. Personal importance. All the articles in here, be they kimono, yukata, haori, jinbaori - well, the list goes on - all of them mean something. They are art, not just clothing. They have importance to me. Some more so than others."

"You kinda sound like that guy Deidara there. Yanno… talking about art."

"A subject that is surely beneath such a connoisseur of swordcraft." Orochimaru shot back. Suigetsu had the sense to blush at the very least.

"Ok, ok… Well… how about those ones?" Suigetsu pointed to a rack positioned at the far wall of the room, away from the rest. It was met at each end by two low tables, groaning under the weight from piles of folded fabrics and trim and was backed by a curtain of velvet. "Those the most important? They look fancy."

"Not fancy, just… precious." Orochimaru glanced over at the collection as though seeing them for the first time and nodded faintly. "Those are the pieces that I commission or make myself. They are to remind me of… important things that I've lost."

Lost. Oh. Suddenly aware he was bordering on dangerous territory, Suigetsu eased back a little, wondering how he could make some sort of polite excuse and get the hell out of there before he pissed off the boss. Maybe he should just deconstruct and slip away along the grout in the floor before the sannin got angry - hide out until the storm that was Orochimaru's temper passed. Apparently the snake had nothing on Sasuke's ire, but Suigetsu would be the first to admit that while he'd found Sasuke pretty startling on a bad day, he'd never seen anything worse than Orochimaru on a rampage. The thought alone was chilling enough to frost the sweat on his skin.

But Orochimaru merely drifted over to the rack, offering Suigetsu a cursory wave of the hand, which could usually be interpreted as a type of beckoning, and so the other simply joined him.

"L-lost?" Suigetsu repeated, treading carefully. "As in… died?"

"Certainly not. Death isn't the only form of loss that exists. Some of these-" and Orochimaru motioned to a few as he spoke. "Are… well I suppose they have been made in memorandum more than anything. These ones are from the bodies I have taken over the years. Though I have their mortal form, I respect the fact that their soul must leave something behind in the world. Therefore I have a garment constructed in the memory of each. A snake sheds her skin to be born anew…these are to honor those who allowed me that ability."

How… oddly sentimental. Suigetsu nodded, approvingly. "Guess it's better than a rack of people-skins…"

"Yes." Orochimaru answered, again with insurmountable patience. Suigetsu was, if anything, earnestly blunt. "It is far preferable to human hides. The aesthetic is all wrong."

"Ew."

"Now these," Orochimaru ignored him, rather inspired by his own explanations. "Were made to honor a few childhood friends - most of which were killed in attacks on the village in the early stages of the war. These- " A pair of pretty, white and lavender kimono in the thinnest silk were eased forward. Thin as petals… or perhaps shed snakeskin. "Are a memorial for my parents."

"They're… real nice." Suigetsu offered, keeping his hands firmly by his sides. No way in hell was he touching these, he knew better than that. His eyes drifted over the collection, then rested on the piles of fabric. "So those are ones you're gonna make?"

There seemed to be a number of colours present, all with numbers pinned to them. Suigetsu frowned at the group of crimson, green and gold that had an expensive-looking white pelt included in the bundle, but the huge amassment of purple, charcoal, white and red was abundantly clear. That one was for Sasuke. Did that mean he was over him? Or was this yet another distraction to stop that felonious want?

"Yes." Orochimaru answered, then continued, almost as though he was talking to himself. Suigetsu head bobbed numbly as he half listened, half explored for himself, when one piece suddenly caught his eyes. It was one that seemed so very different from the rest. Something Smaller. Shinier. He pointed at a hanger.

"What's this one?"

"Ah... " Orochimaru cocked his head to one side, perturbed. He plucked the hanger from the rack and held up the kimono to inspect, humming curiously. It was small, but that might have just made it ornamental. It was decorated lavishly in gold and silver thread and while that what eye-catching enough, it was the patterns that really attracted Suigetsu's attention. Rather than simple, effective geometrics or recognizable pictorial elements, the decoration was that of intricate whorls and lines - patterns so dense and confusing he couldn't begin to understand where one end began and another finished.

"What… what is that?" Suigetsu breathed, one finger reaching out, if not to touch then to follow the labyrinthine interlace of line that dove and crested each other, passing in and out of larger shapes. "This from Kawa or something?"

"No," Orochimaru said, eyeing the garment wistfully. "North, actually. Very, very far North. So far, you wouldn't recognize the land, nor the people who lived on it."

"The people?" Suigetsu frowned. "You mean-"

"Once, a long time ago, I was travelling in search of a great snake-"

"Manda?"

"No, even greater than him," Orochimaru smiled. "This one… Well, his name was myth. In fact, there were many names associated with him, accumulated over time, no doubt. I'd only heard rumors of him, whispers of a great serpent in a language much less delicate than our own. A beast of gold and silver." He slipped his fingers under the collar, stroking the fabric, tenderly. "-and blood."

"So… this kimono is for that snake?"

"No. It's for someone who… well… is associated with my journey at that time. Someone I left behind long ago. He was given a different name, one I don't think I can even pronounce very well any more, but it didn't suit him. It was meant for a warrior, a king. But he could never have been that; would never have had the ability. So when I marked his grave, I vowed to give him a different name - one that might make him as immortal as I. As I wished to become, anyway."

Orochimaru paused for a moment, thoughtfully. Suigetsu might have later noted a strange brightness to his golden eyes - maybe a subtle hitch in his elegant throat, but he wouldn't have mentioned it. Orochimaru's voice was soft for once; possibly even sad.

"I didn't think of it for a long time," he continued. "In fact, it was many years later that I looked upon this little piece again and really thought about it. Perhaps I needed to see if I really could because as immortal as I'd proclaimed."

"What was the name?" Suigetsu asked quietly, watching as Orochimaru held the little kimono up to the lamp, turning it slowly, to let the threads catch the light.

"They called him Conn, but me?" Orochimaru smiled. "I called him Mitsuki."

A/N: Orochimaru is sad. Sasuke is trying. Caliga is plotting. Sakura is... working? Chouji is cooking and Shikamaru is trying to repress the memory of kissing Sasuke (note: We haven't covered this yet, but thanks for reminding me). Thanks for the support everyone - hope you enjoyed the chapter!