Little Rabbit knows the snake must be wise; without limb or teeth, yet he never goes hungry.
"Snake," asks hungry Little Rabbit, "what is it that you eat?"
"Little Rabbit," says the round-bellied snake, "when I hunger again, I will show you."
It's cold and dark and damp, perhaps due to the depth they're at, far beneath the surface and surrounded by miles of dense stone—and beyond the stone is cold, packed dirt. There is an unsettling persuasion to each of Orochimaru's hideouts, all of them provoking the sensation of a live burial. The subconscious imagining of coffin walls closing in around him has yet to soften, and each time he traverses down into the stone bowels Sasuke becomes entombed. Even now within the vast expanse of empty darkness do his lungs suck in a little harder than they might should, worried the next breath won't offer itself so easily. Orochimaru always notices, always giggles, seemingly enraptured by his primal instincts—fearful or not. Sasuke can see the beastly flicker of his eyeshine deep within the room ahead, the sheer size of which so immense the torchlight can't reach its center. He isn't surprised by the dramatic flare; Orochimaru is nothing but.
"No need to fret, Sasuke. It's only me."
His chastising tone never ceases to grate Sasuke's nerves. The vague flirtatiousness the sannin uses to speak is something of an enigma, though he's long since attributed it to the excitement of control. Sasuke's eyes are wide despite himself, knowing his sharingan's diaphanous glow makes his expressions painfully easy to ascertain. Orochimaru can see far better in the dark than he can, the knowledge of such causing his heart to thump faster. A low, rumbling chuckle echoes off the walls.
"Your eyes always look marvelous in the dark. You look like such a fine, little predator," Orochimaru croons, unmoving. Sasuke can only barely make out his cadaverous face and the flickers of his purple chakra. He remains silent near the threshold of the hallway and squares his shoulders, brow furrowing. It's a rare occurrence that Orochimaru summons him—even rarer when he isn't rushing. Just a month ago the man couldn't spare a second and now, as Sasuke waits for an explanation, Orochimaru is unusually at ease.
"Where's Kabuto?" Sasuke asks, a verbal nudge.
"Not here."
The answer is curt, something that would have unnerved him if not for its breathless lilt.
"Are you going to train me?"
Orochimaru's eyeshine shimmers, perhaps the first movement he's made since Sasuke's entrance. "You're much too eager, sometimes." The words leave his mouth slow and airy, Orochimaru trailing off in a sigh. "Did Kakashi ever teach you with words, or was it all just mindless movements of the body?"
"I didn't come here to talk," Sasuke quips, a calculated show of impatience, one he knows Orochimaru is likely to ignore. "I came here for power."
"Words can be very powerful, Sasuke. Someone with such a . . . " There's a heavy pause as Orochimaru's eyeshine flickers again. Sasuke squints against the darkness, trying to see whatever face the other is making. "A succinct way of sharing his mind surely understands that." The dispersing sound of shoes against grit fills the emptiness, Sasuke's back straightening. Wordlessly, he tucks his chin closer. He refuses to budge from the corridor, the warm light offering some semblance of control. The footsteps continue until Orochimaru is at the cusp of the shadow's edge, Sasuke's lips thinning at the cat-like grin spread across his face. "Scared of the dark?"
He hesitates a moment. "If you want to talk, then talk."
"Oh, Sasuke." Orochimaru's voice is beside his ear now, the sudden sensation of cold breath causing Sasuke to instinctively turn his head—if only so slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke sees the faint glow of his sharingan gently tinting Orochimaru's skin, a yellow eye peering back at him. "What are you afraid of?" It's almost a whisper. The otherworldly chill of his breath disgusts him. They stay like that for what feels like minutes, the soundless emptiness only interrupted by the ringing in Sasuke's ears. He refuses to swallow when Orochimaru's slitted pupil dilates. A hand finds the center of his back, cold even through the fabric separating their skin, and urges him forward. It's a command he deems senseless to disobey, allowing Orochimaru to walk him further into the chamber until the vast blackness swallows them both and his heartbeat can be felt inside his skull.
"Did you want to talk to me, or what?" he asks again, even if it costs him. Orochimaru's hand slides down the curve of his spine before departing, Sasuke following the glint of his eyes as the other moves to stand before him. The sannin is a staggering column of faint purple. For a second, Sasuke feels small.
"I asked you a question," Orochimaru seethes, Sasuke going rigid at the sudden, booming demand. Leaning down close, the red glow of Sasuke's eyes barely illuminates the look of tempered rage swathing Orochimaru's face.
"I'm not afraid of you," he answers, the softness of his voice shameful and aggravating. The only part of Orochimaru that moves is the grin curling his lips. A breathy laugh flares his nostrils, then the torches along the walls go out. Immediately is there sound all around him—slithering and scraping and metallic tinkling. Sasuke's hands shoot to his hip and he grasps the heavy hilt of his sword, spreading his feet to brace. Orochimaru's rolling chuckle echoes in the highest corners of the room, as if he is everywhere at once, Sasuke jerking his blade free when he feels a sting on his right shoulder. He swings blindly, blade cutting through empty air with a telltale whistle—that was fucking stupid. Another prick at the small of his back tears a flinch out of him, Sasuke composing himself enough to hold his sword firmly at the ready—or as ready as he remembers. A gift from Orochimaru upon his arrival, Sasuke still fumbles with its weight.
"You want me to train you so badly?" Orochimaru thunders in the darkness, almost omnipresent. Sasuke shudders at the sensation of dense chakra filling the room, wide eyes feverishly scouring the nothingness, sharingan spinning desperately. "I'll give you exactly what you want."
Where is his chakra? Where's his fucking chakra? Sasuke knows he feels it, yet there's nothing but thick darkness around him.
A fist drives into the side of his head, the pain enough to steal the breath from Sasuke's lungs—a javelin through one ear and out the other. Twisting himself through the inertia, Sasuke sees Orochimaru's looming figure straight ahead of him, purple flames barely alight. He dodges the next blinding swipe, slinking right, sword clanging against each kunai held firm in Orochimaru's fists, the plunges of which are devastatingly accurate—and fast. Sweat on the back of his neck makes the air cold against his skin. At least he could see him now.
"I'm going to kill you," Orochimaru breathes below the deafening noise, Sasuke's chest tightening viscerally. A low sweep forces him to jerk back, Orochimaru sparing him no time before he is upon him again, heavy blows battering his arms as Sasuke narrowly manages to block them. An overhead swing makes way for a clear shot of Orochimaru's waist, and Sasuke doesn't hesitate to drive his knee upward into it, only to feel an arm hook beneath. "You can do better than this, can't you?" Orochimaru spits the words out, face passing close enough again for the red glow to swathe it, before Sasuke feels his grounded foot swept out from beneath him. Orochimaru heaves his knee up and Sasuke stumbles backward, everything suddenly slamming to a halt when his skull cracks against the stone tile and his lower back is against Orochimaru's shins. Little white fish swim in the wetness of his eyes. Sasuke can't help the throaty gurgle that passes his lips.
A weight crushes down against his chest and leaves him gasping. Sasuke can feel his knee forced high enough to graze his jaw, Orochimaru folding over him till Sasuke can see his face with the crimson hue his glare casts. Sasuke struggles to breathe under the pressure, desperate to keep his sharingan engaged after the staggering blow to his head. For a second, there isn't any sound beyond his own stifled inhales. Orochimaru is silent, refusing to budge from pinning him to the floor. Sasuke bares his teeth.
"No, you don't look very afraid now," Orochimaru purrs, yellow eyes roaming Sasuke's face. "I hope you didn't hit your head too hard. I would hate to damage that little brain of yours."
Sasuke feels his thigh forced down further into his chest, knee digging into the underside of his jaw. "Fuck you," he mutters around clenched teeth.
Everything is moving again. In the darkness, Sasuke feels Orochimaru drag him upwards before tossing him into the unknown. His shoulder meets hard stone, then his chest, body rolling once—twice, then he settles in a collapsed heap. Red eyes snap open at the sound of rushed footsteps coming toward him.
"Your sharingan is as weak as expected."
It's more than difficult to follow Orochimaru's chakra signature, Sasuke yanking his head off the floor and scouring the black for purple. Overwhelming and suffocating on its own, the sannin seems to have permanently muted it. Is he using any at all? Sasuke catches the faint flames bounding toward him to his right and braces, realizing his sword is lost to the ether. Belly down, grit sticking to his sweaty palms, Sasuke prepares to jump. Then—nothing happens. The footsteps draw close and vanish, their echoes spiraling up the great walls and melting into nothingness. Sasuke waits, holds his breath, listens for anything and everything that could possibly tell him where Orochimaru is coming from, but the purple tongues of chakra he once saw are gone. Everything is dark and damp and quiet.
"Do you realize," Orochimaru's voice reverberates around him, "just how much you remind me of myself when I was a child?"
Sasuke doesn't say anything, nerves still wracked, proverbial hackles raised. The rush of endorphins is hard to staunch, his body flooding with reactivity even as the seconds of silence drag on. He remains on his stomach, vaguely enjoying the coolness of the floor. Where is he? Sasuke hesitantly—nervously—breathes.
"Although," the sannin drones, "you're softer than I ever was."
Sasuke wades through the thick quiet afterward, untrusting and cocked. What is he doing? He knows well how much the sannin prefers to elongate things—whether or not a hunt—so stays still and quiet, breathing only when his lungs burn, only when his body demands he exhale. Every noise he makes sounds thunderous in the blind silence.
"I'm not going to move for now," Orochimaru's voice booms around his head. "I told you words were powerful. I would be a hypocrite to act otherwise. You may breathe." The last sentence is all but an abhorrent snicker.
His eyes narrow. "Where are you?" The pressurized tone his breath expels gives him a shred of dignity, even if he can feel his face stretched wide with visceral, unknowing fear. He doesn't rely on Orochimaru's patience, but he does rely on his verbosity. Orochimaru's arrogance—arguably earned—was hardly enacted upon concisely.
"You look so small." The words are but an embellishment for a laugh. Sasuke is wise enough not to unfurl himself. "Did you ever speak with Jiraiya, by chance?"
"No," Sasuke answers, flat as silt.
Orochimaru's cachinnation is unsettling, as always. "Did Kakashi ever share with you how we first met?" he asks, leveling his voice just enough to speak.
"No," Sasuke repeats, hoping the allure of conversing keeps him safe. His body refuses to relax. His chest gingerly expands against the cold floor.
"Ah." It's spoken in such a way Sasuke doesn't quite know how to digest it. Stillness ensues. "I'm not surprised." Another low rumble of chuckling fills the room—fills Sasuke's head till it's humming alongside. "He was, oh, so very worried for you, if I recall."
"When?"
"After your fight with Yoroi."
The name is all it takes to wash memories over him, muscles finding momentary respite. "When he sealed my curse mark?" Sasuke asks, a speculative whisper.
"That wasn't the first time," Orochimaru clarifies. Sasuke lifts his chin a bit, curiosity setting his brows together. "We met long before that. The gap between was years. I didn't foresee him working with children." Orochimaru's voice shaves his nerves raw with every roll of his laugh, every flutter of his throat. "He could've been a fine predator—he was."
Sasuke refuses to engage him on the matter, chin low to the ground and body tense.
"What were your parents like, Sasuke? Before they were dead," Orochimaru asks him. Sasuke glares into the darkness and knows the other can see it. The giggling picks up. "What was Itachi like before—"
"Stop fucking talking."
He only has time to get the final word out before Orochimaru's weight slams into his back, Sasuke snarling when a hand fists into his hair and forces his back to arch till his chest leaves the floor. He can feel Orochimaru shift as he straddles him from behind, cold breath puffing over his curse seal. Sasuke shudders against his better judgment, a frustrated scream tearing free from his throat. Orochimaru yanks his head back so far Sasuke thinks he'll break in two, palms slapping the tile as he tries to find purchase.
"What did I tell you?" Orochimaru hisses in his left ear. Sasuke sputters on a breath when teeth dig into the meat of his shoulder so hard he can feel his muscles raked over—so fucking hard he can't help but squeeze his eyes shut and pray the scream inside his head doesn't leave through his mouth. His curse mark throbs like a heartbeat. It hurts. It hurts. Even when the mouth leaves it still hurts, Sasuke unable to swallow the miserable sob that passes his lips, unable to think through the blinding pain. "I truly hate you when you're disrespectful." Sasuke cries out into the darkness. He can't tell if his eyes are open or not, if the teeth are still clamping down, if the agony afflicting his body is worse than the man behind him—on top of him—crushing him like a worm.
"Show it to me," orders Orochimaru, Sasuke ululating through the command. Every word makes the mark on his shoulder burn like fire. Sasuke can feel his master pressing his face next to his, cheek to cheek, the hold on his hair tightening. "Break the seal." Is it not already broken? Sasuke knows it's going to happen whether he chooses or not, chest heaving with sweat. It's almost a relief when Kakashi's seal gives way and the marks spring forth across his skin, starving hounds released from their cage. "Good boy," Orochimaru mouths against his cheek—unthinkably horrifying. It takes mere seconds for the marks to overcome him, a shallow, trembling exhale the only thing Sasuke manages at the sudden influx of chakra. The pain leaks from his body and leaves his arms shaking. He can feel Orochimaru smile against his skin. "Very good. Much better." His hair is let go, Sasuke immediately falling forward onto his stomach and hissing at the ache in his lower back. A cold hand slides under his jaw and grabs hold of it, an act that has Sasuke gripping Orochimaru's wrist in a vice.
"Ah," Orochimaru breathes out, "I don't know whether your tenacity is admirable or foolish, Sasuke." The playful lilt is vaguely there, but not enough for him to feel safe. He allows the hand on his jaw to squeeze his cheeks together, Sasuke letting go of Orochimaru's wrist and slamming a fist on the floor—the only way he can show just how much he fucking hates it. Sasuke can't name the ominous revulsion that flutters his lungs. "Were you always this disobedient?"
Sasuke thinks the question is a statement until the hold on his jaw tightens. "I don't know," he seethes between his clenched teeth, quiet and furious and disgustingly obedient. Orochimaru chuckles, thumb running over Sasuke's chin.
"How old are you now?"
The question confuses and unnerves him, Sasuke begrudgingly answering, "Fourteen." He hears Orochimaru snort, embarrassment heating his face.
"I didn't know your birthday passed," the sannin says, shifting to plant his feet on either side of Sasuke's hands, the sound of his shoes scraping the grit drawing a flinch out of him. Sasuke tucks his arms close beneath him. He feels so small right now. "Was it before or after you sought me out?"
Sasuke doesn't understand why it matters. "After."
"Ah, how special," says Orochimaru, Sasuke almost able to hear the grin on his face. The fingers on his jaw squeeze his cheeks together again until his lips part. Sasuke pinches his eyes shut and braces himself against the shame. Orochimaru laughs—maybe at him and how pathetic he must look. "I sometimes forget how young you are." It almost sounds like an apology. Sasuke's breath hitches when a hand rubs over his curse mark, sore and certainly bruising. "I know that must have hurt." The fingers finally leave his face, though the others remain on his shoulder, tracing what Sasuke can only assume are teeth marks. "We'll have to handle Kakashi's seal another day. Your curse mark will be more receptive once it's done away with."
He feels a small twinge of remorse at the notion of undoing Kakashi's work. In the back of his head, Sasuke can't help but wonder what his sensei would think if he saw him right now.
What have you done to yourself?
"Thinking about him, are you?" Orochimaru's voice interrupts. Sasuke grimaces at how easily the other reads him. "Do you miss him?"
"No," he snarls.
Orochimaru chuckles. "Not even a little?"
"No," he says again. Sasuke assumes it's exactly the answer he wants. Orochimaru hums something like an approval, or perhaps it's neutral acceptance.
"Do you know why I ask you so many questions?"
No, Sasuke thinks, but instead waits for an explanation.
"It's safe to admit you don't, Sasuke," Orochimaru says—almost purrs. Sasuke snorts. He's well beyond tired of this game they're playing. "You're still a little boy, after all." Sasuke's teeth itch, dangerously close to breaking his subdued composure. His master chuckles. He knows he can tell.
The weight settled on his rear departs, Orochimaru moving to step over him. Sasuke peels himself off the floor onto his elbows and waits, legs having gone numb long before. The darkness finally lifts as the torches along the walls alight themselves, revealing the darkened silhouette of Orochimaru standing before him.
"Raise your head. I want to see your face," says Orochimaru, tone hard and commanding. Sasuke does so with an unflinching glare, sharingan only maintained by his curse mark. Orochimaru grins, eyeshine flickering, disgustingly amused. "We're going to have to train those eyes if you're planning to be of any use to me. You rely on them too much. Your confidence is too low." Sasuke scowls and scrunches his nose. Orochimaru's face brightens. "You flounder in the dark like a newborn foal," he muses, all too giddy to say so.
Grunting through the stiffness in his limbs, Sasuke pulls himself to his feet and winces. He brings a hand up to grab at his curse mark. The forming welt is impressively tender, Sasuke able to feel the indentions of Orochimaru's teeth in his skin.
"I can't see your chakra." It's a weak defense, but a defense nonetheless. Orochimaru is quiet, his expression shadowed and difficult to interpret. "I can see chakra in the dark, but not yours. Not well," explains Sasuke.
"Ah," breathes Orochimaru, eyeshine glinting. "I've suppressed my chakra so much. I find it difficult not to."
"Even in combat?" He doesn't bother hiding his bewilderment.
"That was not combat," Orochimaru says. "I was toying with you."
"Why?"
"I enjoy it."
Sasuke can't help but snarl, hand leaving his shoulder to ball into a fist. "Why waste my time?" he demands.
Orochimaru leans in with flaring nostrils. "Why waste your time?" Sasuke doesn't answer, tilting his head back to follow Orochimaru's gaze when he steps closer to him. "I'm wasting your time?" he asks, towering above him, their height difference always alarming. Sasuke wordlessly glares. Orochimaru analyzes him for a few heavy seconds before laughing, mouth turning up at the edges so distinctly it makes Sasuke nauseous. "Ah, your curse mark is just so beautiful, it's difficult to stay angry." A thumb flicks Sasuke's chin up and he twitches at the contact. His mind can't fathom a reason. Kakashi never made him feel so vulnerable.
"Why do you talk to me like that?" asks Sasuke.
"Like what, Sasuke?"
The eagerness in Orochimaru's voice disgusts him. Sasuke's lips purse, struggling to articulate his unease, brows furrowing as he looks between Orochimaru's yellow eyes. The man is standing so close Sasuke can see the tiny scales patching his face, see the muscles around his mouth quiver.
"Like what?" Orochimaru repeats, voice below a whisper, his sharingan registering the sannin's slitted pupils dilate in slow motion. Sasuke recoils, eyes wide and angry—confused. Orochimaru doesn't stop him; instead, he simply watches. Immediately is Sasuke turning to scour the room for his sword, catching its glint ten or so feet away. Setting Orochimaru with an intense stare over his shoulder, he moves to retrieve it. "That sword was a gift, Sasuke," says the sannin. "Next time, don't allow it to be separated from you."
Sasuke doesn't see fit to answer, wordlessly sheathing the blade before looking back, decidedly keeping his distance. Orochimaru is already disappearing into the darkened hallway at the opposite end of the room.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sasuke," the man's voice echoes out from the shadowed hall. Sasuke releases a breath he didn't know was caught in his lung, curse mark retreating behind Kakashi's seal with a bone-deep ache.
The forest is thick and misty, humidity clinging to the back of his neck and chest—which is uncomfortably bare. In the morning, Kabuto had befitted him with new clothes, imploring Sasuke not to complain lest Orochimaru grow upset. You're the lapdog, he'd bitten out. Not me. Despite the vitriol, Sasuke complied, more so to rid himself of the Sound garments he'd originally been subjected to. Sasuke remembers Orochimaru's face when he demanded to see. The lavender around his eyes made his uninvited stare all the more conspicuous.
Sasuke knows he's doing the same right now, uncharacteristically walking beside him instead of taking lead. He refuses to acknowledge it—the only respite from his master's leering. Orochimaru doesn't seem to mind.
"How far are we?" asks Sasuke, coal-black eyes fixated ahead of him.
"Quiet," Orochimaru hushes him. Sasuke grimaces and cocks his head, swallowing the initial desire to ask why. The woods around them are still, devoid of wildlife beyond the bugs he occasionally swats at. The far off snapping of twigs alludes to animals, but Sasuke hasn't seen nor heard one, leaving his mind to wander when the leaves rustle and somewhere something disturbs the leaf litter. Thick webbing stretched between the limbs overhead sparkles with tiny water droplets. Privately, Sasuke allows himself to enjoy the night air.
Cold fingers grip his shoulder, Sasuke's eyes snapping to meet Orochimaru's. The sannin gestures with his head toward the leaf litter and Sasuke follows his gaze. A snake, muscled body black as pitch, settles at the base of a nearby tree, jaw unhinged and deforming around the head of a hare. Sasuke's brow furrows. The rabbit's leg shakily extends. Turning back to Orochimaru, the man is all but mesmerized.
"What?" Sasuke mutters.
"Is it not fascinating to you?" asks Orochimaru, still transfixed on the sight.
"No. We should keep moving."
The hold on his shoulder tightens. "Not yet, Sasuke," Orochimaru breathes. "I want you to watch."
What the fuck, he thinks, though wisely keeps to himself. Something in his stomach goes taut seeing the rabbit's legs kick, the snake's mouth slowly working itself over its ears. Every few moments the snake readjusts its jaw, trying to gain a better hold, expressionless eyes staring blankly ahead. In the darkness, the two creatures almost appear to be one. Sasuke realizes he's pinching his face up.
"Do you not like it?" whispers Orochimaru, fingers ghosting over his exposed collarbone. "You look distraught."
"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Sasuke asks, tearing his eyes off the rabbit to glare. "This?"
"Don't be silly. How could I have known we'd be blessed by such a beautiful display?" Stepping around him, Orochimaru's hand slips over the skin of Sasuke's chest, the boy jerking away to escape it trailing lower. Cautiously approaching the snake, Sasuke is surprised when Orochimaru bends down and brushes his knuckles along its bulging throat. It's almost loving.
"Poor thing," he croons. Sasuke struggles to digest what's happening—almost as much as the snake.
"We—" His train of thought comes to a halt. Orochimaru stands with the snake in his hands, cupping the rabbit's haunches in one palm.
"Touch it," he encourages in a low voice, extending his arms out. "Go on." Sasuke gawks in disgust. It's hard to decide which one is worse: the engorging snake or the man holding it. "Touch it, boy."
Expression twisting, Sasuke gingerly lifts his hand to reach out. He flinches hard when the rabbit kicks.
"Touch it."
Smooth scales brush against his fingertips, cold atop the snake's head but warmer where the hare's is encased. Sasuke's lips part around an exhale. He prods the bulge curiously—only once—before jerking his hand away. Looking back up, he's met with Orochimaru's wide grin.
"Is it not fascinating to you?" the sannin repeats himself, fingers gently closing around the snake's lower body.
"The fuck do you think?" Sasuke spits, voice small despite his scowl.
Orochimaru snickers. "That's what I meant," he says, "about you being soft, Sasuke." His master leans down, Sasuke craning his head back to keep distance between their faces. "Does it upset you to see death?"
"Like I give a shit."
Orochimaru's grip on the snake tightens. "Liar." Sasuke can't help but stare as the snake's bulge ripples, the hare's head dragged out its mouth by the feet with a soft, airy, sucking noise. The rabbit pops out and the snake is left gaping, head slowly adjusting as its mouth hangs ajar. Sasuke can't find his voice. "Here," says Orochimaru. He holds the rabbit up to his face, fingers grasped around its throat so as to maneuver the head. Sasuke stares at it, lips parted. The hare's eyes are halfway popped from its skull.
Open your eyes.
He strikes the rabbit hard—harder than he intends, so hard his knuckles knock its tiny skull and the rabbit's jaw goes crooked. Orochimaru bursts into laughter, thumb pinching its tiny throat. Its broken jaw hangs stiff.
I will have no cowards in this family.
The laughter cuts off as Sasuke's fist drives into Orochimaru's brow, arm already cranking back in preparation for a third blow. He can feel his face twisting up like molten iron before he realizes who is in front of him.
"Stop!" His voice shreds the silence of the forest. Orochimaru returns his gaze, pallid skin reddening with the beginnings of a bruise. "Stop it." The words thunder out from behind bared teeth, sharingan swirling hell-hot red. Orochimaru stares. So does the rabbit. "Enough," he exhales, Sasuke's eyes fading to black as he sucks in a breath through his clenched jaw.
The look on Orochimaru's face is obscene. He straightens up, fingers peeling open and allowing both animals to drop. The rabbit's lifeless body makes a dull thump against the dirt. The snake struggles to set itself back into shape, but before it can Orochimaru rolls his heel over its head. Sasuke hears the rubbery crunch and refuses to look. He's shoved aside with a yank on his arm, the sannin slipping past him in a silent gloom.
"Come." The command is baritone and stern, no hint of jesting to be heard. Sasuke obeys, though not before sneaking a glance toward his feet. The snake's body wriggles behind its flattened skull. The rabbit stares back at him.
By the early morning hours they arrive at the entrance to another sanctuary, rivulets of water spilling over the sides and pooling in tiny puddles at the base of the stairs. The rain came from nowhere, Sasuke's shirt now clinging cold to his back, freezing his bones stiff. While under the dense cover of wood it wasn't immediately apparent how heavy the storm was. Now, standing beside the descending stairs, they're absolutely drenched. Orochimaru hasn't uttered a sound in what feels like hours, hair wet and flat against his sullen face. Sasuke almost finds it humorous: the almighty sannin pouting—and because of him, no less. A smirk tugs the corner of his mouth up.
Allowing the man to lead them downward, Sasuke's eyes catch a glimpse of Orochimaru's fingertips humming green. He slams them against the door—certainly harder than necessary—before forcing it open. He doesn't wait for Sasuke to follow, slinking into the humidity of the underground. A calculated pulse of chakra sends the water from his body, Sasuke closing one eye as droplets splatter his face. He follows suit—or mimics as best as he can, bangs shooting out at the sudden rush before slapping wet against his forehead. Orochimaru looks over his shoulder with an amused grin as the doors close behind them, swathing the corridor in orange torchlight. Through the gloom, Sasuke sees whatever mark his fist left on Orochimaru's face has vanished.
"Don't enjoy being wet?" asks Orochimaru, breaking his fervent silence. Sasuke harrumphs with a pointed lift of his chin, hand peeling the hair from his brow. Orochimaru smiles. Despite his eyeshine, he looks almost human. "I'll teach you before we head back." The softness of his voice gives Sasuke pause. He isn't gibing him.
"Okay," he murmurs. Orochimaru faces forward, chuckling to himself. It's kind—and bewildering. Sasuke furrows his brow for a pensive moment. "Why are we here?" he blurts out.
"Naruto learned to summon under Jiraiya," says Orochimaru. Sasuke grimaces. "I would assume you'd like to learn as well." Something inside his chest tightens, dark eyes cast down. "Jiraiya's summoning jutsu can't compare to my own," Orochimaru derides, head tilting back. "And soon, neither to yours."
His pulse thunders between his ears, flashes of Naruto commanding that huge, scarred toad making his stomach go hot. He couldn't wrap his head around it at the time, but now it wouldn't matter. Sasuke's hands tremble, fingers digging into the ends of his wet sleeves to steady himself.
"I'll be able to summon?" he asks, if only to hear it again.
"Yes," says Orochimaru. "You will sign the same contract I did."
The hallway curves leftward and dips into a yawning stairwell, every step down a heartbeat beneath his skin. Glancing right, Sasuke notes the painted depictions of serpents adorning the walls embroidered by a language he doesn't recognize. Their ink-black bodies all crest downward, the only color the red of their open mouths. Sasuke recalls the rabbit. He tears his eyes away.
"I know you may think summoning simple if Naruto can perform it," Orochimaru begins. The stairwell ends and they're greeted by an immense arched doorway that asserts the entrance to a greater edifice, the black paint-snakes etching the stairwell flooding out over the walls and lining its meter-thick wooden edges. On either side of the doors are two goliathan serpent statues, their smooth-carved crowns nearly touching the ceiling, eyes hollow, black apertures. The closer he draws the smaller Sasuke feels. Orochimaru unseals the door much like the prior, a rumbling scrape emitting as the stone opens. A rush of cold air chills him beneath his damp clothing. "Snakes are far more conceited than toads. It will not be simple."
The chamber beyond the threshold is dwarfed by its entrance, small with high ceilings and ribbed by cluttered bookshelves; unassuming and modest. There's not a single live serpent to be seen. Sasuke's enthusiasm dampens.
Orochimaru's chuckle brings his gaze to the sannin's. "Expected something more?" he asks. Sasuke thins his lips and looks back toward the bookshelves. A cold hand falls on his shoulder. "This is only where I keep my contract." Orochimaru leaves him to approach the far-left shelving, continuing past to retrieve something stowed beyond. Sasuke steps closer when the other heaves something off the floor—a herculean, aged-yellow scroll. Orochimaru rests it on its side and begins to unfurl it, wooden umbilicus pattering against the stone. Wandering around to where his master squats, carefully stepping over the pages, Sasuke kneels beside him.
Line after line of signatures segment the pages, brown fingerprints dappling the lower half of the scroll in pockmarked crests. Sasuke begins to understand the writing the further the scroll unwinds. Eyes catching the slight color-change, Orochimaru's signature is the only one written entirely in blood. The umbilicus scratches to a gritty halt.
"Here," instructs Orochimaru, pointing to the empty space closest to the baton. Sasuke reads the signature to the left.
Mitarashi Anko
"Go on," Orochimaru urges him, hand disappearing into the central binding before reemerging with a blade. He holds it out to him. Sleeve hiking up, Sasuke sees a hint of a black tattoo stark against his underarm. "Sign with the hand you plan to summon with."
The knife's hilt is cold to the touch. Trading it to his left hand, Sasuke presses it against the pad of his right palm before yanking it across his skin, enthusiasm producing a deep, weeping gash, Sasuke hears Orochimaru shift closer. He balls his hand into a fist twice, first to dig his fingers into the wound and second to wet his thumb.
"Good," says Orochimaru, Sasuke already pressing his middle and forefinger to the parchment. A trail of blood dribbles between his knuckles, smearing his signature almost unrecognizable. Lifting his fingers off, Orochimaru grasps his shoulder and squeezes. "Now—" The sound of Sasuke's hand slapping the page cuts him short, blood spattering the scroll. The hold on his shoulder tightens. "Perfect." Breathy, trembling; he sounds near euphoric. Sasuke turns to him and sees Orochimaru wiping his mouth. Is he drooling? A bewildering grin tugs at his lips. Not a moment later is Orochimaru rising to his feet, Sasuke following, admiring his bleeding signature from further back. "We'll let it dry."
Black eyes scour his weeping palm. "Am I," begins Sasuke, brow furrowing, "supposed to feel something?"
"Pride," says Orochimaru. "You're the second to be granted my summoning pact."
He flexes his fingers and watches the way the canyon of his wound stretches, blood running down his arm and staining his damp, white sleeve. "I knew Anko."
Orochimaru hums. "Yes, you've met her."
"She was your student?"
"She was." The sannin's face hardens. "Then she failed me." Sasuke squints at him, hesitating to indulge his curiosity. Orochimaru meets his gaze with a glint of ghosted scorn. The rigidness in his mouth softens. He smiles. "You're better than she could ever be."
I know, he thinks, fisting his fingers into his wound again, goosebumps prickling his skin. Orochimaru's yellow eyes fall to his dripping hand.
"I can heal that," he offers. "You're ruining your new clothes." Sasuke snorts. The space above Orochimaru's brow seizes—only so slightly, a reaction Sasuke recognizes with intense clarity. He begrudgingly holds his hand out. Orochimaru gloats and takes it into his own. "You cut deep," he comments as he admires his palm. Sasuke blenches as he thumbs over it—digs in—probes, blood gushing out and painting his corpse-white skin. "I can tell how excited you were."
Shoulders hunching, Sasuke's clenched teeth can't stop the sob his throat ousts. "Just—"
Orochimaru yanks on his arm, pressing his mouth to the bloody gash and inhaling deep. It's hideous—inhuman. Sasuke can't breathe. The air Orochimaru sucks in is stolen from his own lungs. Yellow eyes open at the speed his chest expands, watching him beneath the shadow of his brow, holding the scent in when he can take no more. Predatory and intense, a sudden exhale through his nostrils splatters blood up Sasuke's wrist, slitted pupils blowing out.
Sasuke gawks with an open-mouthed scowl.
"Ah." Orochimaru leans back, maw stained with gore. Sasuke feels his heartbeat in the hollows of his eyes. "I've been waiting to smell that." The way his mouth shimmers red when he talks makes him fucking sick.
"What?" he stammers dumbly.
Orochimaru cradles Sasuke's hand between his own, green enveloping his fingertips. He takes in one last, heady breath—Sasuke sees blood get past his lips—before quietly watching the wound stitch itself together. Silence consumes the room beneath the soft droning of Orochimaru's chakra. Forcing his eyes down, Sasuke notes just how much he's bled onto the floor. Did he really cut so deep?
"I haven't healed anything in quite a while," the sannin chuckles. Sasuke refuses to look up. "Aren't you the lucky one, having such a well-qualified teacher." His usual smugness has returned in full force. At the very least, it's familiar.
Sasuke steps away once the sound of humming chakra fades and his hand is set free, checking his palm instinctively. He flexes his fingers, the pain once produced by the act nothing but a memory. Beyond his bloody hand, Sasuke sees Orochimaru crouching to begin re-wrapping the scroll.
"One last task, then we will leave," his master says. Gaze drifting down, Sasuke watches his name disappear into the rolling folds of yellowed paper. He wonders what Kakashi would say if he were watching.
What have you done to yourself?
The chamber's breadth requires a full turn of his head to scan its entirety. Having ventured further down into the labyrinthian passageways beneath the initial hideout, Sasuke stands at the lip of a cyclopian pool of Heliotropium-hued liquid, the viscosity of which impossible to denote without touch. There are no torches, the spectral light cast off the surface of the water stretching his shadow far behind him and up some ever-growing wall of sand-white stone. Statues—not dissimilar to the marble, serpentine sentinels flanking the entryway to Orochimaru's summoning scroll—surround the pool at four corners, great heads open at the jaw. More of whatever substance fills the hollow drains from their mouths, the sound of moving water amplified in the chamber's vast expanse. It's almost dreamlike, if not for Orochimaru accompanying him.
The sannin looms across the basin, pale flesh tinted pink, head down as he stalks its curving edge. There's a deep-carved grin etching his illuminated face, foreboding something Sasuke knows will be unpleasant—for him, at least.
"Do you know what this is?" asks Orochimaru, voice carrying over the gentle fetch between them. Sasuke reiterates his frown with a small snort, eyes falling to the self-lit water. Orochimaru hums. "I expected as much."
"What is it?"
"A surprise," the sannin snickers. Sasuke leers at him across the basin, watches as he disappears behind a statue only to emerge meeting his gaze. "Undress."
Sasuke balks, tongue leaving the roof of his mouth to pensively press against the backs of his teeth. "What?" he says when Orochimaru makes no correction.
"Undress." His sincerity remains. Sasuke's brow furrows under the duress of comprehending it. Orochimaru's upper lip curls wolf-like, nose squaring, snarling, "Now," loud enough to send his voice echoing up the walls.
He obeys—slowly at first, shrugging his shoulders free from his shirt with the vigilance of a beaten dog, eyes fixated on Orochimaru's. The sannin watches only a second longer before his gaze returns to the glowing pool, its vibrant sheen reflecting his eyeshine. Sasuke scowls. Fuck you. He undresses using the agitation much rather aimed at his master, bare heels thudding the floor as he stamps free from his pants.
Orochimaru doesn't acknowledge him or his tantrum. "Step in," he says. Sasuke looks down at his feet, down at the glowing basin and the phantasmal broth within. His throat tightens as he steps close enough for his toes to hang over the lip, knees locking. Orochimaru laughs. "Don't be scared. I wouldn't harm my favorite student."
Sasuke eyes him beneath the shadow of his brow. His master is smiling—uncharacteristically human-looking; it could almost be kind. He doesn't budge. Neither does Orochimaru.
His master chuckles through his nose, eyes mere crescents above his lifted cheeks. "Sasuke—"
Orochimaru's voice departs, his ears and nose burning as he plummets feet below the surface of the water. Sasuke squeezes his eyes shut and instinctively kicks, feeling the smoothness of the basin against his toes. The burning beneath his skin is immediate. His curse mark activates and sends fire through his veins, eyes snapping open at the sudden, unexpected agony. Jaw opening, he screams and grasps his shoulder. The pain is like nothing he's ever felt; it surrounds him and reaches every inch of flesh. Feet finding the bottom of the pool, Sasuke pushes against it, the howl building in his chest expelled from his mouth in a flurry of bubbles. Breaking the surface, he gasps and flounders, hands torn from his mark to propel him upward. Red eyes catch Orochimaru standing at the edge of the pool—smirking.
"Oro—" Sasuke's throat refuses to obey, lips wetly mouthing around a plea he can't articulate, face twisting with a desperate sob.
"I wasn't expecting you to dive in," Orochimaru muses, half of his words diluted as the water laps into his ears. "Get out."
The reminder is all it takes for Sasuke to twist his midsection and grab hold of the stone lip, the muscles in his back flexing while he scrambles to escape the pool. His breath leaves his lungs in ragged gasps, hyperventilating, each lungful unfulfilling and starved. Even as he drags himself out and collapses against the floor does his body continue to devour itself from within. He screams. He screams so hard his ears ring from the force. Sasuke's legs jut out straight over the edge of the basin and his muscles clench up all at once, head jerking back. Something fists around his heart and it seizes.
Orochimaru's disapproving grimace is the last thing he registers before everything is lost to empty darkness.
AN: This story explores the realistic consequences of a child falling into the hands of a narcissistic predator. There will be no hesitation to describe how power imbalance can be employed to commit any abuse deemed feasible or necessary. Sexual abuse will not be included, though there will be actions that can be interpreted in a similar vein.
This is cross-posted from Archive of Our Own where I have tags available for trigger warnings. If requested, I will add them here as well.
This is an attempt the flesh out the time-lapse encompassing Sasuke's three years spent with Orochimaru, and how those years could have molded him into the monstrosity he inevitably became.
