Hidden Leaf Village
Sometime after the raid on ROOT safehouse no. 3
Darkness surrounded him. He heard and felt. Voices called out, telling him to hold on. Pain was the only response to the voices. Burning, stinging pain. He wanted so badly to let go. There were people waiting for him just beyond the veil, so tantalizingly close, yet so frustratingly far away. The veil, so thin, was finally within his grasp. The face of his friend Jiraiya appeared before him, seeming as if it planned to make an impassioned plea.
Get out of my way, he growled in his mind. I have people I need to see once again. He reached forward with his right hand, which for some reason felt lighter than air. He tried to grab it with his other arm, but when he did, it turned out to be a white snake instead. The snake hissed and began to shed its scaly skin. He felt some sadness watching it go but knew that snakes don't leave their homes forever. Looking back up, he saw the face stubbornly staring. He tried again to shove it aside, yet it persisted. He bared his teeth menacingly, and the face began to shift.
This other face was less familiar, and it took his smoke-addled mind a moment to recognize it. Yet once he did, his heart wept with both sorrow and joy. His mother, or as near to her true face as he could recollect, was standing just on the other side of the veil. He could hardly believe what he saw.
"Is it-... I… could it really be you?" The hoarse croak that came from his lips surprised him. That was the most he'd been able to say in hours, though it felt like days in this dark place. The shade of his mother just stared.
Hesitantly, he began to reach with his other hand. It did not turn into a snake nor did it molt its skin. He was glad for it, because every rising inch of his hand felt harder than the last. Finally, his hand stretched out between himself and the veil. It shifted when he tried to touch it. Why does it refuse me? This time, he reached for the veil in earnest. His entire hand opened up to clutch at the ethereal fabric, and it closed around the darkness that he stood in.
"Why?!" He screamed in rage. "Why can't I come to you? Why am I still denied you?" The shade tilted it's head like it had never been asked why. Instead, it returned a question with a question.
"Why do you want to die?" It asked. The question stunned him. He took a step back, now realizing what the veil meant.
"Am… am I still alive?" He asked through clenched teeth, fearing the answer. She made no move to give him the information he seeked, her head still cocked to the side. Had she been like this in life?
"No." He said finally. "I want to live, to master all jutsu in this world. To protect the Hidden Leaf with those powerful jutsu." At that, the shade frowned.
"One cannot hope to live that long." Orochimaru sneered and turned his head to the side, pretending to study the eternally shifting veil between life and death. He had heard the same thing from Jiraiya and Tsunade both. Yet he still didn't have a good answer to that simple truth.
"I will find a way," he said to the shade. "A way to forever toe the line between life and death. A way to protect those I love for all eternity."
She eyed him with what he would attribute to curiosity, but he couldn't be certain here. She shrugged. "The things you must do to attain this… ability. It would strip you bare of your soul." Her eyes followed his, and he made a noise of exasperation, turning away from the veil and the shade. She doesn't understand either.
"What does it matter if the cost of knowledge is my soul?" He muttered. "I have nothing except my jutsu. I am nothing except my jutsu." At that, she frowned.
"No, my son. I know you are—" she was interrupted by his angry blow against the veil, making the shimmering blue ethereal fabric shudder and bend. His look was harsh, filled with anger and sadness, the first hint of tears welling up in the corner of his eyes.
"What do you know about me?! You're the shade of a woman twenty-five years dead." He breathed heavily, pulling his clenched fist back. In the silence she just stared. Angrily, he shouted at her. "Answer me!"
"I know that the pursuit of ultimate knowledge would push everyone you loved away. And I know that would break you." He flinched and closed his eyes. She knew more than he thought. Why shouldn't she know that his friends were his greatest weakness? But still, couldn't she understand that it was because of his friends that he had to do these things?
He shook his head. "I… I don't see any other way. Any other path than this feels… wrong. I have to. I must become the strongest." He knew that he sounded like a raving madman, and it showed on her face.
"If you continue down this path, grave things will happen. You will harm and kill the very people you aim to protect." He stared at her; not sure he should believe it.
"Why would I do that to them? I want to protect them!" Tears were building. He didn't understand.
She nodded. "Yet it is the way you would go about attaining your immortality, and ultimately the dark paths you would go down, that would set you at odds. They will never see, as you do, the path to peace."
He shut his eyes and let the tears fall freely. "So, what do I do? If I'm not strong enough, then..." He trailed off, unable to complete the thought aloud. They'll die like you.
She considered him a moment. He felt her eyes probing and searching. They had deftly found the crack in his armor and stripped him of it.
"Have you considered that the possibility of their deaths is what makes their lives special?" The question was so strange that he almost laughed. "What," he said through half-contained giggles. "Are you saying that I shouldn't try?"
She let him cackle himself to silence and shook her head. "Not at all. Here, let me explain: your father and I loved each other. Our love made you, and our love for you saved your life, allowing you to live." She came closer to the barrier.
"We were both strong. And that strength didn't save us." She eyed him. "Do you see what I'm saying? You could learn the trick to immortality, learn every jutsu this wide world has to offer, and become the strongest shinobi to ever live.
"But the cost of that power will make it all for naught. Your friends, Tsunade and Jiraiya, will fight you to stop what they see as unnatural, and immoral experimentation. It will all go against your grand plan."
There was silence when she finished. Orochimaru had never stopped to think of the grander picture. With a sickening realization, he knew she was right. No matter how he tried to justify it in his mind, he knew that it would not convince his friends. They would only see the bodies left behind, never the mountain that those bodies would help him climb.
The only two people in the world he cared more about than himself would turn against him. And no amount of power or jutsu was worth it. He nodded slowly. "I… Understand, mother." He looked up and saw that she was smiling.
"I knew you would. You always made me proud, Orochimaru." She placed her pale white hand to the shimmering veil. So close, he thought bitterly. So unfairly near, yet unreachable until my end.
He touched the barrier again, his larger hand covering hers, and she smiled warmly. A smile he would never forget, he told himself. A noise from above him shook his concentration away from the shade, and she sighed.
"I'm sorry, my little ninja. I've kept you too long." Pulling away, she turned and braced herself to walk back into the darkness. He steeled himself, not ready for her to leave. Still, he watched her go, and the noise overhead grew deafeningly loud.
Hidden Leaf Hospital
Mid-morning
The eyes of the pale man sprawled out on the table shot open as he gasped for air, for the first time in nearly ten minutes. His breathing was raspy and infrequent, almost too much so for Jirayia's liking, but it was there. Relief flooded through him, pushing away the anger and anxiety that had been present since he let Orochimaru leave all alone.
He was standing back in the cramped room, letting the medical ninja do their jobs unimpeded. He, Konan, Nagato and Yahiko were there waiting for the all-clear. Now his friend was finally stabilized, and his three students waited outside where they didn't have to see the extent of Orochimaru's injuries.
They had been summoned to help him search not because he distrusted the others under his command, but because he knew precisely that they could be trusted. The delicate nature of Orochimaru's mission required tight-lipped secrecy. His faith was well-placed. The trio had been eager to help when they knew what the objective was. That kind of dedication to help was a treasure, and he had to be sure they were rewarded for it. The head nurse wiped her brow and glanced at him.
"We have done all we can for the moment, Lord Hokage. If you'd like, we can give you some privacy." Jiraiya nodded, and the woman ushered her team outside. He sat down by the bed and waited for the door to shut. For a moment, only Orochimaru's labored breathing and occasional cough interrupted the tense silence. His eyes were shut, like the light was too bright to bear. Jiraiya almost feared he had fallen unconscious again.
"I'm sorry," he said, lowering his head. "I should've sent a group of ANBU with you." Orochimaru coughed, briefly silencing the Hokage. He began to sit up, then thought better of it. Looking at Jiraiya, he gave a lazy grin. "What, all that trouble for little old me? Please." He laid his head back and shut his eyes again. The words Jiraiya wanted to say were held back only by his immense relief. Instead, he shook his head in amazement.
"You crazy bastard." He broke into a smile. "I can't believe you cut off your own arm. And you did it in a ROOT safehouse!" He laughed. A deep, belly laugh that could be heard down the hall. Orochimaru returned a polite chuckle.
"What can I say? I'm a daredevil at heart." He broke into a light coughing fit, and Jiraiya handed him a styrofoam cup of water. He gulped it down greedily, thanking his friend before trying to sit up once more. This time, Jiraiya assisted him. He grunted his thanks and looked straight into Jiraiya's eyes.
"I know, I shouldn't have gone alone. But Danzo needed to be confronted." He frowned. "But he's a slippery one. 'Danzo the Eel', they should call him." He nodded satisfactorily at his suggestion, and Jiraiya laid a hand on his shoulder.
"We'll discuss renaming him later. For now, I just need the pertinent details. What did you find? How did the fire start? And, most importantly: where did Danzo run off to?" He squeezed Orochimaru's shoulder. "Don't strain yourself: tell me in your own time."
There was something in his eyes that Jiraiya couldn't place. Shame for failing his mission? Regret for going alone, or letting Danzo escape? He leaned forward. "Orochimaru?" His friend blinked a few times and shook his head.
"Right, sorry. The safehouse… it was inconspicuous. You wouldn't look twice: some kind of ramen shop out front, by the name of Ichiraku, if I remember correctly. They probably didn't even know about it." He glanced at Jiraiya, who nodded for him to continue.
"I incapacitated four of Danzo's people patrolling the area before infiltrating. Intended to bring them in," he said while frowning. "Although by now they were either killed by the fire or freed. Those ROOT agents care nothing for their comrades if it gets in the way of their mission." A shudder went through him. "That brutality runs deep, down to their very core. Danzo's work, I'm sure of it." Jiraiya shared his friend's frown.
"Could they be… reformed? If we captured them, that is." Orochimaru shrugged.
"That's hard to say, Lord Hokage. But by all means, we should try." He gave him a strange look, and the other man shifted. "They are shinobi of the Leaf," he said simply.
Strange, he thought solemnly. He isn't usually this optimistic. "Continue. What was Danzo doing when you came in?"
"Sitting in a small room. I assume he was waiting for his agent, the little spying Mouse." He licked his lips. "You should've seen his face, Jiraiya, when he turned around." A dry chuckle escaped his lips, then died in his throat. "He blustered, made some nonsense argument that he runs things here in Konoha… then…"
He trailed off, his eyes falling with his voice. Jiraiya leaned forward. "Then?" He prompted.
"Then, he told me that my parents were 'his people'," he said softly. "ROOT agents."
A stark silence fell. Jiraiya was almost too stunned to say anything else. Thankfully, he didn't have to.
"I don't want to believe it, but it makes a certain kind of sense. All I remember of my parents were their white faces." He held up his maimed left hand and studied it. "I thought they had skin like mine… what I remember of my mother… she was as white as me." He looked up at Jiraiya. "I saw her, you know."
Surprised was an understatement. He listened carefully and silently as Orochimaru recounted his experience. The veil between life and death. Was it really true? His heart had stopped…
Finally, they ran out of things to discuss. Besides the elephant in the room.
"Your arm," Jiraiya started. "Is missing."
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Orochimaru snorted laughter, then gave him a look. "There's only one person I know that can regrow limbs." He nodded sternly.
"And sensei said she can come back when her debt is paid. Not before." He crossed his arms, knowing he sounded ridiculous. It was just a petty excuse not to have to track the kunoichi down.
"Jiraiya," Orochimaru said softly. "You're blushing."
He shot his friend a glare and sighed. "Fine," he relented. "I'll send a team out to look for her. But you've got to keep quiet. You hear? Not. A. Word. Got it?" Orochimaru suppressed laughter, nodding his agreement.
"I understand, Lord Hokage."
Grumbling, Jiraiya rose to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I should return to work. You'll get along fine without me, I trust?"
Orochimaru's smile faded, and he nodded curtly. "I always do, Jiraiya." And with that, he gingerly slid down onto his back and grunted in pain. Knowing a dismissal, Jiraiya stepped out into the hallway and slid the door shut again.
If the phrase was meant to sting, it had worked. Jiraiya frowned. He had been away since the end of the conflict people were now calling the Second Great Ninja War, setting a trend he did not like one bit. During the war, he and his teammates had distinguished themselves as excellent shinobi, and saviors of many battles. One encounter with the Land of Rain's kage Hanzo had even earned them the title of Sannin.
He did not look back on the war with misty eyes and burning desires for days back in the ceaseless rain. But back in those days, he and his friends had been together. Every battle, every mission, he knew that his friends would see him through. Their bond was strong, even now. But after the war ended, fate had seen it fit to scramble them apart. Tsunade's gambling had driven her out of the village. She wasn't exiled from the Land of Fire, but she was considered a persona non grata. At least until she gets lucky, and finally pays off her debts.
That wasn't very likely, though. Whenever Tsunade won big, she would boast, and drink, and party until it was all gone again. It had gotten to the point where her own clan had denied her access to their funds. That had further caused some of her debts to get so massive that the Sandaime had issued an edict stating she must pay them off first to return home permanently, (she was able to sneak in a time or two a year, though, to visit family and friends). Tsunade the Cheat, as some came to know her, had sealed her own fate.
His own story was too long, and someday he might tell the whole tale to his students. But he, too, had all but vanished after the fighting stopped. He had travelled, writing books, and meeting new people. Hoping to find the one who would fulfill the ancient prophecy… That left just Orochimaru. For the few years between the end of the war and Jiraiya's inauguration, he had been the only one of their team still at home. I'm sure that must have been lonely, he mused.
The man was stoic, except around Tsunade and Jiraiya. Because of that, he was unfairly compared to snakes. Their dispassionate killing was often mentioned as proof when one examined his great feats of the war. While Jiraiya had to admit that some of what he had done was cold, ruthless, and unnecessary, he was far from emotionless. All he did, he did for friends and country. If only people could see—
His thoughts were cut short when he bumped into someone. He began to mumble an apology before he realized it was Nagato's dark red hair he saw. The boy quickly rounded on him.
"Watch where you're going, as—sensei!" He laughed nervously and backed up to his friends. "S-sorry, sensei. I didn't know it was you."
Jiraiya waved him off, and Konan interjected. "Is he alright?" Her eyes were big, a large orange iris surrounding a black pupil. Big and innocent and kind. He put on a smile, nodding gregariously.
"Of course he is! It'll take more than losing an arm to kill that stubborn old snake." All three teens visibly sagged with relief, and he clapped Nagato on the arm.
"Go, I know you're dying to see him. Konan, Yahiko, wait up just a moment. I want to thank you personally." The three exchanged a look. Yahiko and Konan urged Nagato onward. He fled down the hallway towards his master, and Jiraiya let his face relax.
"Thank you, guys. Seriously. Yahiko, your tracking from the facility was a godsend. Orochimaru hardly leaves a trail, by design: so enemies or unwanted friends can't follow him. But you sniffed him right out." The boy beamed, hungry as ever for recognition and glory. He turned his gaze to Konan.
"And Konan, your medical ninjutsu on all those burns probably saved his life." She blushed and smiled. "It seems your time under Tsunade was well-spent." He crossed his arms, and they leaned forward, recognizing that he was about to say something important.
"And now, I have a favor to ask." His jaw set tightly. "A big favor."
Hidden Leaf Hospital
Orochimaru's hospital room, near noon
"You can't be serious!" Nagato hissed. His ears burned, and his stomach was rolling end over end. His mentor nodded.
"Our work seemed noble when I recruited you. But now, after what I've seen, I realized that the ends don't justify the means." He was dead set, Nagato knew. He would not be dissuaded. He felt his shoulder slump.
"So… so what do we do now?" The last three years of his life had been spent in service to Orochimaru to gather and master any jutsu he could find. He was chosen for this work because of his master of all five change in chakra natures at the young age of 10– the youngest of any shinobi, ever. That was all in thanks to his ocular jutsu, the Rinnegan.
The Rinnegan, the most powerful of all ocular jutsu, could be traced all the way back to the Sage of Six Paths. A legendary, almost mythological, man, more was forgotten about him than Nagato had ever known. He knew that he had lived a long time ago, and that he had two sons. After that, he wasn't sure what was true or just plain myth.
And somehow, Nagato didn't know how, he had come to possess those eyes. Deep, purple rings with a black outline surrounding each ring, all around a smaller black pupil. He didn't understand what about it made him so susceptible to mastering jutsu, and neither did anyone else, really. But it had caught his master's attention. The rest, as they say, was history. And now, he wanted to throw all their progress away.
It was outrageous. It wasn't fair. Nagato had learned so much, experienced so much, that this news felt like a slap in the face. He couldn't, in good faith, let it all go without trying to sway his master first. Only, a voice in his head disagreed.
You already tried, it reminded him. You still ended up here. He closed his eyes, and his master sighed.
"I need you to destroy the base. Take fire tags and blow it. We must abandon this course before it pulls us both under. Do you understand?" He waited for a moment before nodding his agreement. Orochimaru nodded.
"Good. Then get going. Don't report back to me, just see it done." Without a word, Nagato rose to his feet and went to carry out his master's orders. He mumbled something about "important work to do, sorry guys," to his puzzled friends as he passed them in the hall. They didn't stick around to visit Orochimaru either.
Nagato stopped by his shared lodging with Yahiko to gather his supplies. Plenty of exploding fire tags, a canister of oil, and his flak jacket. Just in case. You never know, after all.
Sure he was amply prepared, he started on his way to the base hidden in the hills east of the village. It was the only one he knew of, and knowing it was about to be destroyed broke something inside of him.
The entrance was a secret door hidden in the rock wall. Lifting up a certain rock two and a half inches would activate a mechanism underground and the door would open. When Nagato went to activate it, the door pulled itself inward and opened up a space barely a foot wide. He quickly scuttled over and shimmied through before it started to retract and close.
He just barely made it through. The door shut loudly, dust falling from the carved roof. It was dark, the torches on the wall sat unlit since the last visit. But Nagato's eyes didn't need the torches to see he saw night as well as day with these eyes. He saw everything with these eyes if he was looking.
He quickly went inside the main library and sat his backpack down on a dusty table. Pulling it open, he reached inside and pulled out the stack of exploding tags. He wasted no time placing them on structural strong points and the sides of bookshelves. If I'm to do this thing, I will not do it wrong.
When he ran out of tags, he reached for the oil. It was expensive stuff. Good, quality oil that would burn for a long time in a lamp. It was originally meant to fuel the lights he and his friends used when they were camping out on overnight missions, but it would serve well enough. He poured a line around the library until the container was empty.
He smashed it on the ground and grabbed a scroll from the shelf nearest him. Angrily, he stared at the scroll. He didn't want to burn these treasures. Why couldn't his master see what he was ordering to be destroyed? It would be such a shame to destroy all of these scrolls.
Suddenly, an idea came to Nagato. He peeled open the scroll and began to study it. "Son of a bitch," he said quietly. I may have to destroy them, but nobody said I couldn't memorize them first, he realized.
Quickly, he spread the scroll and performed the series of hand signs. Once, twice, three times. And the first jutsu was mastered. He paused, in awe of his own genius. So this is why the old snake wanted me. Eyeing another rack of scrolls, he dove for them and began tearing them open.
He could not have said how long he was there, mastering jutsu after jutsu, but when he finished the small library he had started in, he was exhausted. But I'm just getting started, the voice in his head said hungrily. So much power! And it's all mine for the taking.
Out of nowhere, the door began to shift. Nagato nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped the scrolls he had bundled carefully in his arms. They fell into the oil, and he groaned. Those he had been wanting to take with him, to rescue them. They were so old and worn that he was sure the secrets within were worth the wrath of Orochimaru.
Then, he shook himself. Someone was coming in! He cursed and grabbed his backpack. He ran up to an explosive tag and set it to go off with his chakra before running off towards the emergency back exit. The charges went off with an echoing bang that reverberated throughout the entire base. Nagato was slammed into the wall when the blast hit. His ears rang and bled.
The din from the explosion had nearly deafened him. Groaning and dizzy, he crawled the rest of the way. The exit came up in the darkness, and he shoved his whole weight against it. The fake rock face bulged and fell, taking him down with it. The ground shook and collapsed. He pulled his ankles out, just barely avoiding crippling himself. He lay there for a moment, panting and trying not to vomit. The voices were distant, but he heard them. A man's, at least one.
"Salamander and Owl did not survive. Lord Danzo will not be pleased." Nagato's heart stopped. ROOT was here, and they had almost gotten inside. Holding his breath, he listened until the voices started retreating. Hurting and out of breath, he picked himself up and began walking back toward the village. He didn't even notice that his backpack was singed and smoldering.
The sun was low in the sky when he found his way to a gate. It was rotting and in disrepair, but when he pushed hard enough it swung open on ancient hinges. It was a tough thing, yet he did it all the same. He vaguely remembered closing it back before trudging through the long-abandoned section of the village. Houses and shops lined the streets with shadowy entrances like open, yawning mouths. Imagine enemies pounced at him when his mind wandered, dragging him back to reality. He wondered why this place was abandoned, but it didn't matter. Let the ghosts have it if nobody else wanted it.
Stumbling tired through the shadows of this place, he tried to keep his breathing low and quiet. The intruders had startled him more than he wanted to admit. He had always believed his master untouchable, even by the Hokage and the ANBU they commanded. That illusion had been shattered, courtesy of Danzo Shimura and his ROOT agents. It shed a harsh light on just how vulnerable Orochimaru had been these last few years, and how much of a fool he had been to believe such drivel. His master's old sensei had just ignored it all, however.
Some part of the Third Hokage had been curious, but he trusted his apprentice to a fault. And why shouldn't he? Orochimaru's experiments had done nothing to draw attention to him. Some anatomy and study of dead bodies, as far as anyone else knew. But Nagato knew better. Reanimation jutsu, his master had called it. Bring the dead back to life. He wasn't exactly sure what purpose that would serve. The dead should be allowed to rest, in his opinion. But it was just a steppingstone to the ultimate goal of immortality. Or as close as one could get.
Nagato thought he understood the logic. Every being feared death, none so more than humanity. A deer could live its whole life not understanding that, eventually, it will become prey. It would only understand the fear of death as it fell victim to, and became, some predator's supper. Humans, however, feared death as young children, and some carried that fear to their deaths. So it made sense that somebody would try to unlock the secret of immortality eventually. But was that sort of life worth it?
If he could live forever, Nagato would probably hate it. Yahiko and Konan would eventually die, along with his sensei and master. He would watch it all and never age. Or worse, he would continue to age. Getting smaller and weaker as the centuries went on, never able to actually reap the rewards of his longevity. But a deeper desire reared its head as soon as he finished that thought: he would be able to master every jutsu in the world. Given enough time and hoping that his mind didn't go with his vitality.
He stopped. Perhaps there was some value in eternal life. Had he managed to stuff some of those immortality scrolls into his pack? He couldn't remember. Thinking made him realize how rough a shape he was in, and how very tired he was. His arms and legs were sore and aching, burns all along the back of his body, and his ears still rang. Looking around, he realized he was in the middle of the street and that people were staring. Had been staring. Nobody met his gaze for long, and he found that it still hurt just as much as it used to when they looked away. Until his eyes landed on a blonde man with sharp, blue eyes and a bright, genuine smile walking towards him.
He was talking, asking questions that Nagato could barely hear. He had no headband or flak jacket on, but the way he moved screamed to Nagato that he was a shinobi. Agile, confident, poised to strike at any moment. Somehow, the man knew that Nagato was dead on his feet. His injuries were mostly out of sight to the man, yet he knew. He had barely reached the boy when his knees gave out. In an instant, he caught Nagato by the armpits and maneuvered himself underneath the exhausted and wounded ninja. Nagato felt his feet leave the earth and the shifted weight of his pack nearly pulled him off. The man was quick to adjust the boy and settle everything before he started moving.
"Can you hear me?" His voice was like a whisper. Nagato gave a small, curt nod. The man returned his nod.
"That's good. I'm taking you to the hospital, alright? You're okay now." Nagato wanted to believe him, so he did.
His eyes drooped closed, and he wanted nothing more than to rest his weary body. So he did.