Hidden Leaf Village
Three years after the Second Great Ninja War
Life is strange, he thought, staring out into the sea of people come to see him rise to power. His own life had been strange enough, that was no doubt. Yet he had never thought the great river of fate would bring him here of all places.
Jiraiya the Toad Sage, Legendary Sannin of the Leaf, and Bane of Dames, (though only Tsunade ever called him that), was about to inherit a new title: Yondaime Hokage. Lord Fourth.
Flashing a brilliant white smile that he didn't feel quite reached his eyes, Jiraiya threw up both arms and returned the hundreds upon hundreds of waves that the adoring crowd were giving him. That only served to rile them up further, and another chorus of cheers broke out. Over on his left the Sandaime, Lord Third, gave him a wry smile.
"I never knew you could be such a crowd-pleaser, Jiraiya." He motioned to the attendees amassed below, aware that every move was being observed by the people. "They already love you, see? I told you as much."
Jiraiya, being the showman that he always tried to be, kissed his hand, and stepped onto the railing. He firmly planted his feet to the metal with chakra and sent the invisible kiss into the air with as much dramatic emphasis as he could manage. He was sure the ladies would fight near-death for that.
Physically climbing down and internally dropping lower to reach the depths of his mood, he turned to his mentor and predecessor with a practiced reverence. All the cheering slowly diminished to a hushed silence. It seemed the whole village waited on bated breath, everybody straining to hear the hushed voices of the two Hokage.
Jiraiya the Toad Sage was as tall a man as one could be. He towered over everybody he met, with few exceptions. Even now, the height difference between his former mentor and he was notable to everyone that cared to observe the exchange. When the Lord Third held out the Hokage's traditional hat, Jiraiya had to bend a bit to accept it. When his hands clenched around the brim, his mouth straightened into a line. It was like taking the wheel of a ship that had thousands of souls aboard. Crushing, suffocating responsibility. But, if not me, then who?
"Breathe, Jiraiya. You were destined for this moment," his former mentor- no, now just Hiruzen Sarutobi, said with a reassuring smile. His smile reaches his eyes, Jiraiya thought bitterly. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. Lord Sandaime let go of his end of the hat and walked to the edge of the platform on top of the Leaf's central command building. For one final speech, Jiraiya reflected. How did he do it all these years?
"People of the Leaf," Hiruzen Sarutobi began. "We stand here today at the death of one administration, and the birth of a new. For several long and rewarding years, you have allowed me to be your Hokage." He smiled, and the villagers knew he loved them.
"Through loss and struggle, victory, and glory, I have steered this village as best I know how. For you, always, the people. For you, always.
"But now, I am an old man. I have ruled with what I hope was strength, wisdom, and integrity. The Will of Fire, which my predecessors, the great Lord First, and stern Lord Second, believed resided in all who love the Land of Fire will continue to burn, so long as there are those that fight for the Hidden Leaf. Our children will carry on the torch after us, as we did after the First and Second passed it down.
"And it is to those children that I speak now: the Will of Fire is not simply inherited. It is earned, and we must be wary of those that seek to extinguish it." Hiruzen Sarutobi smiled warmly, like the grandfather of the village he was widely regarded as.
"Despite the mighty weight of these words, I've no doubt that each and every one of you here today shall rise to the challenge of defending our Will of Fire. It is you, children of the Leaf, that I pass the torch to now. I know you will not disappoint me." Finally, with his head humbly lowered, the beloved Third Hokage stepped to the side to reveal Jiraiya, the new Lord Fourth, wearing his hat and overcoat. This time, the reverence was not practiced. Feeling like he was lighter than air, the Yondaime stepped forward. The crowd shouted his name, threw their fists into the air, and shot confetti. His people accepted him with the sounds of revelry, and the Will of Fire.
The streets of the Hidden Leaf Village
One hour after the inauguration of Lord Fourth
Nagato and Konan stood to the side as people began to clear out. The ceremony had been wild with excitement and a prevailing sense of patriotism. All true-born Hidden Leaf villagers enjoyed the company of their comrades during the celebrations leading up to the main event these past few weeks, but that didn't seem to extend to their little trio. Every time someone went to include them, they quickly realized who they were, and averted their eyes. That rejection had stung more than she realized at first, Konan admitted uncomfortably, stubbornly. They wore the headband too, after all. What did it matter if they hadn't been born here?
Pushing that bitter thought aside, she tried to cheer up by imagining the fun she and her two friends would surely have, and her mood soured further. It wasn't often that the three of them could get together recently, and the person she most wanted to see was running late.
Again.
Yahiko had been steadily becoming more and more busy with missions over the last six months or so. She knew why, of course. It was the only way to secure a recommendation for promotion to the rank of Jōnin, outside of a field promotion. The Leaf's elite ninja class was a hard stratum to infiltrate, and he was the only one of the three that was still a Chūnin. She and Nagato, having broken through that barrier by pure skill, both understood how desperately he had wanted to catch up to his friends, and her heart broke for him. Though, even with the increased distance, their relationship was stronger than ever before. They all shared the status of Leaf ninja that weren't truly of the Leaf: shinobi that lacked the inherent Will of Fire that their comrades possessed. Something that was felt most keenly by all three of them during times like this.
A different sort of connection bonded the three of them, however. The sort of link that cannot be broken so easily as regular friendships. Orphaned by war, sharing what meager scraps of food they could scrounge up, sleeping in whatever burned out, old townhouse or abandoned building, under any tree that could keep out the rain. That damned, eternal rain. Just thinking about it made her bones cold, and she shivered despite the warm summer air.
That kind of friendship was hard to destroy. But that wasn't the only thing that kept her belated friend in her mind. It was something else that made her drift out of consciousness at night, dreaming of evenings with chilly air and hot cocoa, dancing to music on the radio, and a shock of orange hair...
"He's late." She complained, mostly to herself, shaking her head and the thoughts away with it. Nagato looked up towards the sky.
"I'm sure he's on the way. You know he would never miss out on a chance to spend time with us." He sounds so sure, she thought. I wish I were as confident as him. Instead, she just grunted. Silence fell between the pair, and Nagato turned his gaze to the platform where Lord Fourth had been inaugurated so shortly ago.
"Sensei didn't say a word. I wonder what was going through his head?" He shifted and stretched his long, pale arms. "He's always had an issue with self-confidence, though. You'd think a man that got turned down by Lady Tsunade a few dozen times, yet still keeps trying, would have the confidence of a god."
She had to consider both points. It was true that Tsunade of the Senju clan was a hard, stubborn woman. Dealing with her the few times that she had gave Konan a stark respect for the woman. She knew enough about her to know that her past was dark and talking of it would usually bring about an early, and unscheduled, colonoscopy.
However, Jiraiya the Toad Sage, her sensei and the new Yondaime Hokage, always seemed to dance around the subject without invoking Tsunade's wrath. He deftly poked and prodded, asking probing questions and quickly reeling back when his childhood friend reared her angry head at him. It was like a game the two of them played, both knowing their roles by heart and never deviating from the path. He knew about her past, of course. The two had been on a team together under Lord Third, along with Nagato's new mentor Orochimaru.
But he seemed to only ask these questions for the benefit of his students when they were around. A chance for them to get to know the pent-up kunoichi without having to risk angering her themselves. A shield for the shieldless, she mused. That took a certain amount of guts, she had to admit. One did not simply anger the strongest woman alive without repercussions. Except, the Toad Sage himself. Even Orochimaru tread lightly around the subject of Tsunade's past. If you didn't know any better, you would assume the raunchy young man had no qualms about any decision he ever made. Yet…
Yet the Jiraiya sensei that Konan knew had issues with self-doubt that could sometimes be crippling. During their tutelage, the three of them had gotten to know their sensei inside and out. Externally, he very rarely second-guessed himself, except when a plan on a mission put them in harm's way but couldn't be avoided. Outside of missions, he exuded an air of outright arrogance, like he had never been wrong in his life. One could almost believe it. Almost.
Internally, she was sure, every choice was a struggle. Having the lives of three young orphans that thought you infallible couldn't have been easy to handle, she reflected somewhat guiltily. How could we have known that asking what we did would cause so much suffering for you, sensei?
Pouting, she tried to clear her mind of her sensei's troubles, when suddenly—
A flash of orange, and a cloud of dust from a sudden impact pulled her fully out of her ruminations. Her heart skipped a beat. Yahiko stood from his landing crouch and dusted himself off, the late afternoon sun accentuating his flaming orange hair and eyes as dark as coffee. She was sure her cheeks were burning, (how couldn't they have? He was right there!), and her voice failed her when those incredible eyes scanned her face. He frowned slightly, his brow scrunching together in a way that made her blush even harder. There's no way he doesn't see. I'm done for. Yahiko leaned forward and squinted.
"You got a fever, Konan? Shouldn't be out then. Or at least, you should be wearing a mask." He, mercifully, straightened up, and Konan cleared her throat.
"Never mind that! Where have you been, Yahiko? You said you didn't have a mission today." The tone of her voice was perhaps a bit too harsh, but she'd do anything to draw the attention away from her burning face. Yahiko frowned slightly, a pang of regret piercing her heart, and he sighed. Rubbing his neck, the boy averted his gaze to the ground, not brave enough to face his friend's fury.
"I'm sorry, you guys. I mixed up today with tomorrow. I had an A-rank bandit camp clean-up a few kilometers outside the village scheduled for this afternoon, while I have tomorrow completely off. But I'm here now!" He smiled, that damn smile, and Konan's blood pressure rose again. She quickly turned her nose up, like she was more annoyed at being inconvenienced than anything else. The sunlight helped to hide the pink racing across the whole lower half of her face, and Nagato just chuckled
"Well? Let's go get something to eat. I'm starving!" And with that, the trio set off towards the culinary district. A disagreement about always trying to be on time quickly heated up between the two boys. She couldn't help the smile that came with the exchange of their passionate arguments. She loved being with these two idiots. Her best friends in the world.
ROOT safehouse, somewhere in the Hidden Leaf Village
Late at night, a few hours after the inauguration of Lord Fourth
In a dark and dusty room, Lord Danzo sat waiting for his agent to return. He hated relying on his subordinates, operating from the shadows. He was a warrior at heart: meeting your enemy on the battlefield and besting them through sheer force. That was his way. That had been the way of the Leaf, and the Land of Fire.
Until Hiruzen Sarutobi had been named the Sandaime Hokage.
He had not hated Hiruzen then. In fact, he had realized after the inauguration that Lord Second had chosen correctly. The weight of the Sarutobi clan gave Hiruzen the political clout he needed to rein in the other clan leaders, still anxious from the first war. Danzo had been proud to help and advise his friend. But the Sandaime had spent too much time after his administration was stabilized attempting to satiate the whiny clan leaders.
He had wasted countless nights trying to sway his friend to the use of force to keep the clans in line. He was swiftly, and harshly, reprimanded. Peace is king, Hiruzen had said. They are our allies, Danzo. Not the enemy you see in every shadow. How naïve he had been, Danzo sneered. And how naïve he still was. Tearing a village apart from the inside, by your own people turned against you, was easier than being destroyed from the outside. You can defend against a foreign enemy, but will you slay your brethren turned traitor to protect the Hidden Leaf, Hiruzen? He believed he knew the answer.
Outside the village, Hiruzen Sarutobi was known as a ruthless spymaster, utilizing any and all forms of espionage at his disposal. ANBU special forces, infiltration teams, and plain old spies were common use to the Sandaime. That, too, had ruffled Danzo. The Land of Fire controlled a sizable amount of ninja, and the Daimyo was bound to the village by virtue of his daughter's marriage to Lord Third. Any foe that stood before them, between the people Danzo fought for and peace, could be crushed without a second thought. Yet his one-time friend insisted on meaningless debate and negotiation. It will only end in our destruction, he thought to himself.
Frowning, he reached for the pot of tea and poured himself a cup. It does no good, however much we mean, to sit and stew on old grudges. Some tea ought to calm him down, he wagered. Getting worked up over the operations of the old administration would only serve to distract him from gaining access to the new.
Behind the grizzled middle-aged man, the door's rusty old hinges creaked noisily as it swung open. He didn't bother looking to see who it was. All his agents were the same to him: tools to be used for the greater good. One or the other, it made no matter to him which of the ROOT agents came to report, so long as the information collected got back to him.
He waited for the signature creak of the floorboard, indicating they had knelt, to address them. Only, it never came. It must be one of the newest recruits. I will have to teach this brat a lesson. He turned, ready to set the rookie straight. What he saw instead made his words catch in his throat.
Standing in the doorway was the most cunning, and therefore most dangerous, of his rival's students. Orochimaru, the ninja said to be more snake than man, pushed the door back into place. It latched closed with an audible click.
"Orochimaru." Danzo said dryly. "Hardly the one I was expecting." The other man nodded and took a step forward, reaching for the sword strapped to his back.
"Lord Danzo. I suppose I wouldn't be too surprised if you had known I was coming," a slimy smirk appeared on his lips. "If your sneaky little Mouse had succeeded, that is. But snakes hunt mice, isn't that so?" Danzo's mouth went dry. So, she was discovered. Shame. I rather wouldn't have wanted to train a replacement.
Danzo started to rise, and the standing man slid his sword from its sheath in a pale flash of the dim candlelight. He set it against Danzo's neck, and he went back to resting on his knees. His face was unreadable, except for his predatory green eyes. Hunger. He sees only an animal of prey. Knowing he was in no position to make demands, he waited. Orochimaru studied him for a moment and gently slid the blade up Danzo's throat, towards his chin. The scrape against his skin sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't afraid, though. Danzo wasn't afraid of anything.
"The agent was well-hidden, I must say. Any normal ANBU or Jōnin patrol wouldn't have spotted her." There was a slight hint of respect in his voice. It melted quickly away, replaced with dry contempt.
"But we both know I'm not normal. So. Why?" He asked simply, almost conversationally. Danzo knew what he was asking. The spy had been a necessary step if a bit brazen on his part. Being on Hiruzen's council, he was privy to all the goings-on of the village. Inside and outside affairs were easily accessible to him. But now, Jiraiya was Hokage, and the invitation to his council seemed to have gotten lost in the mail. That, or Jiraiya had no intention of seating him among his advisors.
"The Yondaime failed to include me in his council meeting. You and I both know that nothing goes on in this village without my input. That won't change now," Danzo ground out. The blade shone again as Orochimaru adjusted it to sit right below his Adam's apple. He refused to show fear. Greater men have done worse. I am not just any man, but Danzo of the Leaf.
"Wrong answer," came the cold reply. As cold as the steel in his hands, the look in his eyes, the blood in his veins. Shame, he would have been a wonderful agent.
The blade shifted again, this time pressing deeper into Danzo's throat. A thin line of blood appeared where the skin parted. Yet Danzo refused to be afraid. "Don't you want to know," he said coolly, ignoring the katana at his neck. "How they died?" It worked. Of course it did. The orphaned boy still lived inside his heart, and now it spoke through him, lowering the katana just enough for Danzo's mind to begin to ease.
"Speak, old man. Then you die." His eyes had lit on fire if that were even possible. A hot anger replaced the cold, killing glare. Danzo raised a hand to his neck and rubbed the thin cut, a bit itchy now.
"They were my people," he said calmly. "They worked for me, trained in ROOT since childhood. When I found out they had an offspring, I ordered them to kill the child. They disobeyed and died believing that they were true ninja of the Leaf."
Orochimaru's face twisted in a range of emotion that no snake could mimic, revealing that he was in fact, just a man. A bitter and angry man, but just a man.
"Then they died better than you lived." He pulled the katana back a few inches, ready to take Danzo's head off. Just then, a clank of metal on wood stole Orochimaru's attention away, only for a split second. Yet it was all that was needed. Danzo leapt backward into the small table, and in the clatter of the smoke bomb canister exploding and the antique porcelain tea set smashing to bits, Danzo rushed past the younger man into the hallway.
"Shit!" Orochimaru cursed, coughing through the smoke. "Shit, shit shit!" He raced into the hallway after Danzo, and was met with two— no, three— of the damned ROOT agents that would gladly die for the slippery bastard. And, if he had anything to say about it, they would.
The first one came at him silent as a ghost. The flash of steel was all that announced the strike. No grunt, or the sound of air parting before the blade. It was all he could do to blindly swipe upward and, just in time, parry the cut. The second agent came then.
Flashing quick hand signs, the agent brought their hand up to their mouth. Orochimaru recognized the pattern for the Fire Ball jutsu and dove out of the way. The heat was beyond intense, especially in this tight little corridor. Clenching his teeth, he gave ground and jumped back into a defensive position. He firmly planted his back against the wall and braced himself for another onslaught.
The burning walls produced a thick, black smoke that dimmed the corridor beyond. The agents were there, waiting for him to let his guard down, he was sure of it. His eyes flicked back and forth to the fire spreading toward him on the timber walls and where the second ninja had been. Nothing. There were no sounds except for the burning walls. Through the stench of the smoke, a new smell reached his nostrils. A sickly, sweet smell that was eerily similar to…
His eyes widened. Oil. Could the insane bastard actually have planned this? Before he could get his thoughts in order, three small, spinning objects pierced the smoke and rushed towards him. Shuriken, he realized too late.
He deflected all three of the ninja stars, but not the two kunai that came after. They pierced his right arm to the bone and through to the other side, pinning his sword arm to the wall. He dropped his katana and grunted in pain. These are sharp, he thought, cursing every failed attempt to pull his appendage free. These are either specially made, or chakra enhanced. Either way, this isn't good.
The fire crawled closer. The scent of oil was unmistakable now. Cheap stuff, the type of oil Danzo had chosen. Yet no less likely to burn him alive. Thinking through all his options, he reflected that it had been stupid to come alone. He should've accepted Jiraiya's offer of an ANBU escort. Too late for that, now.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to adjust his right arm. A lance of pain shot from the base of his arm in the socket to the base of his wrist. Yep, he thought. Definitely broken. I would be impressed if I weren't about to die so horrifically.
Flexing his muscles, he found it wasn't necessarily the bone being broken that caused the immobility. He had been right to suspect chakra enhancement. That same chakra was what kept him super-glued to the wall. He reached up and gave a tentative tug on the kunai and sighed exasperatedly when he failed to remove it. The fire was getting closer, and his options fewer with it.
The glowing reflection of the fire coming from the ground below his field of vision caught his attention. There, laying on the ground with the blade facing towards him, was his katana. A sickening, yet potentially life-saving idea, came to him. He grit his teeth and set all his weight in his left foot.
Using his right, he stomped on the blade near the hand guard and sent chakra to the bottom of his foot, sealing it to the sole of his combat boot. A moment of triumph tempered by the heat of the now oil-enhanced fire creeping hungrily towards him. He slowly lifted it up and, with his left hand, reached toward the hilt that was to the right of his foot. He had almost reached it when his right arm was struck with pain once again. He almost lost concentration when he saw a third kunai had struck him between the elbow and shoulder. Shit, he cursed. They're still here after all this time. A figure stepped through the flames wearing a black cloak and a fox mask.
He knew what he had to do. Gathering his courage, he gave a yell of determination and reached for the blade. His fingers closed around the too-hot, too-sharp steel the same moment his arm snapped completely where the third kunai had struck. His fingers were wet with blood, yet he didn't dare let go for fear of dropping it altogether.
The figure drew closer, then stopped, seeming not to expect the stupidly defiant, stubborn, not-dying he had just seen. It was all the hesitation Orochimaru needed. Releasing the chakra holding the blade in place, he threw the katana into the air and caught the hilt of the weapon with the blade facing toward his crippled right arm. He clenched his teeth and sent the last remaining bit of his chakra into the blade like Hiruzen-sensei had taught him.
The blade easily sliced through his flesh, muscle, and sinew. Pain was an afterthought to his instinct to flee. The instant he was free, Orochimaru dashed toward the ROOT agent with more ferocity than he had ever felt in his life. The brazen self-mutilation and sudden emancipation of his victim had caught him so off-guard that he didn't even try to defend himself. Orochimaru didn't fail to take advantage of this and killed the man with a swipe to the throat. Barreling through the smoke and, the now dead man's companions, he sprinted towards the exit he had come in. They shouted after him and gave chase half-heartedly, but he was good as gone.
The fresh night air was a godsend, though he didn't have much time to enjoy it. He ran as far as his tired, burnt legs could take him. Even when he collapsed the thought of pursuing ROOT agents was dominant in his mind. Panting, he reached into his back pocket and, with blood covering the retrieved summoning scroll, rolled it out until it hit a rock and stopped. He laid his hand down gently, positive the amount of blood flowing freely from his decimated fingers was enough. In a puff of white smoke, a small purple serpent appeared. It stuck its tongue out and tasted the air, waiting for orders.
"J-Jiraiya," he managed weakly. "Find… find Jiraiya. Send h.. help." His last few words were spoken to empty air, as the serpent had moved immediately to find the white-haired giant of a man. He closed his eyes for a moment. Just a moment of rest, he told himself. When he opened them again, the moon was starting to set. Had he really been gone that long? He shut them again and, this time being sunrise when he opened them, could swear he heard his name being called. There were a few voices, but chief among them was the worried baritone of Jiraiya the Toad Sage.
"Ji… raiya!" He called pitifully. There was a pause, and he could hear some motion below. Maybe they were near. He began to crawl forward, over the blood-soaked, used-up summoning scroll. He didn't care though, Jiraiya was nearby. Safety.
The sounds started up again as somebody scrambled up the tiny hill Orochimaru just now realized he must have been on all this time. It was a young-ish boy with a shock of orange hair, then a girl with straight blue hair joined him. She gasped at the sight of him and went back down the ledge. The last thing he saw before falling into the void of unconsciousness was the face of his best friend, Jiraiya, cresting the hill.
He lost consciousness just as his friend began to lift him up and over his shoulder.