AN: Hey, reader! Posting this rough draft edition before my Covid test just in case anything goes wrong! Don't worry, if all goes well, I'll re-publish the edited version.

Lately, I've been tired. It's not a tiredness that can be cured by sleeping. Please bear with me. :)

Orochimaru journeys to Water in order to take down the first obstacle protecting Madara. What happened to the Anbu squad assigned to investigate Motochika's intel? How does it tie into the secret of how the swordsmen come to find their blades?

Present

Nothing Is As Sweet As A Lie

5 Months Into the Second Shinobi World War

Orochimaru ferries across the Great Ocean knowing at any point, he could breathe his last breath.

The Outlier Islands, to his luck, are one of the Land of Water's outermost territories. Close enough to the Land of Fire to become its territory had it not been colonized prior. Even if Water hadn't colonized it, Fire knew better than to venture out in the open. At night, there is the thundering suction of vortices so starved for enemy ships, nothing remained in the day. The occasional hurricane speeds over the horizon as if manifested and curbs any and all hope of travel. Mountain-sized tsunami crash in the distance, taunting distance ships closer if they dare. Water uses the vast ocean separating itself from the world to protect its body—ranging from lands close to its heart to the furthest at its heel or fingertips.

For this reason, he has disguised himself in a fishing boat traveling down a path of whales, sharks, and other great fish where any battle would threaten the isolated country's food supply. It also meant he had to spend precious time catching fish with the odd Water boat drifted past. When the crest of the lonely islands come into view, he can practically feel the grass and sand on his feet. He pays the captain the costly fee, expecting his return within five days.

Just before noon, the boat gets as close as it can for him to Body Flicker the rest of the distance. He chooses the shady overgrowth as his destination, crouching in the knee-high plants.

Along its perimeter are beaches. The untouched sand is dark gray with black spots scattered about. Shells jut out at odd intervals half-buried in the sand, a forgotten society returning to nature. The wealth of pine trees and shrubs pushed further back are colossal. A number of deadly animals and insects could be lying in wait.

He figured islanders would never let their beaches become this disheveled. Has the beach been abandoned due to its islanders being unable to reach it? No hidden village exists here. It's fairly possible they couldn't perform the necessary upkeep themselves.

At any rate, he's got no clue how to survive on beaches—survival training can only go so far in a moderate climate. He's got to head inwards and risk being seen by the populace.

Kunai in hand, he creeps through the greenery, listening, watching. Gusts of wind shift the stale and pungent air, warp the shadows and plants as if the world itself quivers. Undisturbed insects freeze or buzz in their territory as he passes, ready to assault the potential threat. On the ground, there are no animal droppings or prints. The islanders can't get all their nutrition from the sea, can they?

As the island grows accustomed to him, patterns stick out. Beyond the ecosystem, there is no other sound. When walking back to the Leaf, the sounds of life greeted him long before the gates. It's true of any village. The wind picks up no other aroma—not of fire, food, or the unmistakable scent of flesh. Past slender trunks and into the distortions, he sees nothing but sky and land. No village.

Whenever a country or a territory is uninhabitable due to any circumstance—weather, superstition, droves of dead, karma—spies and scouts work fast to relay said information. Commonly, officials will tell the other countries to beware. It's standard courtesy, one of the few remaining honor laws. No one wants to send ninja out to certain doom and give the cursed land more bad blood. Fire's most cursed land, the Labyrinth Forest, was found during Warring States and once hidden villages formed, and its Hokage's still told Lightning of a forest that never let a soul escape.

How could Water have hid this? No, of course Water hid something like this—the country can't help but abuse the truth and bath in their fantasy world. It must have something to do with the Anbu squad's disappearance.

This island is a trap; the intel is a lie.

He walked head first into it. If things get bad, he's got an ace up sleeve as a last resort. One sacrifice, and he'll survive this trap at the cost of being unable to fight in the war for sometime.

No more time to think. There, in the distance, is the unmistakable shape of a house.

He lowers to the ground, edging forward within the shade. Ahead, a clearing. More buildings. Behind the last tree, he surveys the houses and buildings, each having an antiquated design that haven't been used in over 20 years. While some villages are pitifully slow to modernize, these buildings are old in more ways than one: they are decaying, weeds and moss growing endlessly. Damaged roofs, walls, stairs are in danger of being fully swallowed by the ground. Something cracks under his foot. What he thought was a rock is the head of a wooden doll in a shredded teal kimono that would have looked beautiful on Tsunade's old dolls.

Fully upright and head swiveling now, he roams the soundless ruins trying to piece together whatever past occurred before this phenomena. It's effortless. The remainder of shop doors are open to combat the heat, stained tools and bottles rest next to a building in construction, threads and beads swaying on clotheslines now house spiders.

He is encroaching on the grounds of something he was never meant to see. He should run—yet he continues to stalk. Life has been frozen in time. For a long moment, he can pretend to buy his daughter her favorite sweet dumplings[1] moments before they lay beneath the stars and the cottony Milky Way strands, lost in their peaceful, simple world.

In the end, this serendipity is an temporary illusion. There must be a reason as to why the Anbu squad went missing on a deserted island.

He weaves through the trees and tall grass, balances on top of moss-covered rocks and fell trees, and keeps sweeping the land with a gaze. To his front, all there lies is a greenish brown haze identical to the one at his back. If he keeps his gaze steady long enough, the haze would distort itself, growing far away yet closer. It makes his stomach reject his meager breakfast. The sun's position is the only thing keeping him from being lost to the haze.

Hidden by the wind rippling tree leaves is a similar yet muffled noise. He strains his ears and grits his jaw, on the verge of distinguishing it. Closer and closer. He slows into a halt. The wind dies down. The noise is loud and clear: rushing water.

Good. He can make camp there or walk down the water for any hint of living. A bit more walking later, and he can see a gap in the green blur: some blues and grays. He picks up the pace.

And at that moment, a woman's voice drifts into his ears, "Can you believe it? How far we've come?"

It almost echoes.

Another voice replies, "Very little has been accomplished." This one being the voice of a perpetually smiling man.

He keeps to the shade, searching for a glance of the people up ahead.

"All those missions we did and friends we made, every success felt deserved, and yet we haven't done much in the world. We're stars in the night sky."

He pauses, listening to the woman's words. Beneath his feet, the world spins.

"Even a star can give life," the man replies. "Our lives have a reason."

"Yeah. It's just…some days…I'm glad, really, that I was born."

He pushes off the tree he was crouched against and full on sprint to the voices. It's embarrassing how long it took for him to piece together the owner, but now it is clear. The owner should not be here. Nor the man. How did they arrive here? How did they make it into the innermost forest without him noticing?

"If I reached for the stars and fell back to Earth…"

He pushes power into every step as if the world collapses behind him. Tramples over the rocks and overgrown weeds. Faster.

"…would you still be proud of me?"

The hold of the forest can no longer contain him. He skids to a halt in the clearing where golden rays trickles from above. Small particles float in the gold stream, suspended raindrops. To his right, in the center of the scatter, is none other than Tsunade. In her hands is the First Hokage's necklace, the crystal catching the light and glistening.

She presents the necklace to Dan Katou. Orochimaru knows he's smiling. He can practically see the affection in his turquoise eyes gifted to and only Tsunade. He bows to accept the necklace and speaks. Orochimaru hears it louder than his own panting. "I will."

"Wait," he whispers.

Tsunade fastens the necklace around Dan's neck, fingertips slow to part from his chest as if glued. Her gentle smile widens and colors her cheeks.

"Wait," he pleads.

They revel in their shared elation and love. They turn their backs to him.

He staggers forward, the tip of his tongue holding infinite words, but not even a syllable can fall from his lips. With his next step, the ground gives away. The grass rushes to meet him and through him, shutters, disappears—

There's an absence in his mind, as if someone came and stole a part of him and there is nothing that can replace the hole. When? Why does it feel like he woke up from a long dream?

The wind is obnoxious.

He's awake. He's falling. Falling face-first into the rocky bottom of a massive gorge.

Jiraiya's good luck earns him a break from spying.

The Anbu are taking care of the most-pressing secrets all while travel restrictions pile up. Ambushes, traps, false missions—the amount of scummy tactics used to hurt innocent villagers shot up since the last war. Either human morality has decayed…or the tensed, un-finished way the First Shinobi World War ended sowed the seeds of resentment.

At any rate, it's not his issue today. Tsunade is keeping the hospital afloat, Orochimaru is on a mission. Ah, the one time he's free, most of his friends are busy. Not surprising but still stings having to spend precious free time alone.

Of course, he knows how to have a little fun.

He drops by the Home—thankfully Orochimaru boxed him some grub to chow down on—and freshens up. He catches his reflection in the mirror and winks. No, too try-hard. Wink and a smirk. Good, confidence.

Soon, he reaches populated streets. There are faces marred by stress-lines or dried tears, though there's the odd smile or two. He smiles and says a honey-like words soon to be forgotten. All to pass the time until he nears the local bar[1].

Being family-owned, Yunomi Edge's sells the bare minimum to get by. Cheap drinks, cheap food—it doesn't matter. He'll forget the taste of it all by the night.

The long bar table almost seems to hug the kitchen. The chef jerks his head away from the grill at the sound of the bar stool grating the wood. Jiraiya ducks his head, eyes locked onto the man's broad back. The chef takes a moment to flip the wine-soaked salmon with calloused fingers before ducking under the hanging cloth.

"Welcome, Jiraiya…"

The chef's stubble is peppered by gray, much more than Jiraiya last visit. His navy uniform is fraying. The amount of patches have increased.

"Hey, the place's roaring," Jiraiya says, forcing a smile.

A few men linger in pairs, cups and dishes stacked before them. Some stare into their contents as still as statues.

"Wait until night comes," the chef says, husky voice wanting to add more but fails. "Been back a month now, and you're visiting now?"

"I'm a busy guy. Roaming the world, saving women—the usual." He winks. "You stay here all day collecting dust."

His lips quirk upwards. "I'm at peace here. Does your ninja work give you peace?"

Jiraiya shifts in his seat to lean on the table, sucks air through his teeth. "I'm young and dumb. Don't think that's possible yet."

"Ain't no age limit." The chef plucks a red ceramic cup and takes a rag to it. "You'd know that, crawling in here while you were just a scrawny nobody."

Jiraiya's laughing only stops when he receives his cup. The gentle, nutty scent lingers in his exposed throat from the cold liquor. "Everything changes. But this? Ah…never does."

A slight smile eases the sharpness of the chef's gaze. "Be back with your regular," he turns, laughter barely subdued.

Jiraiya swirls his cup. On the counter are faint stains, remnants of people long gone. There's no telling if they were regulars or newcomers. Does it matter? Does the chef really care about yet another face lining his pockets with cash? His sole purpose is to provide for those who need a break from reality. For happiness, for loneliness, for dreaming while awake.

Does the chef truly respect any of them?

Jiraiya starts at the chef's muffled greeting and watches as he goes right back to work. The same thing every day. Being a bar owner in a predictable world with a predictable life. Wouldn't that be nice? Better than being a ninja.

Why did he want to be a ninja? To become Hokage? So why does the thought of trying to become one give him physical pain? What is his reason to keep going—

The newcomer sits too close to Jiraiya, jostling his shoulder. "For a ninja, you're not all that subtle, Jiraiya."

An easy smirk lies on the youthful features he'd seen infinite times. The young man's sandy blonde hair is free from its usual forehead protector. A dark shade of brown submerges eyes that once glimmered brightly. "Geez, when were you going to tell me you returned?"

Jiraiya laughs and rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, but I prefer to spend my time chasing after women, not boys. Unless, you are a woman. In that case—"

The boy wrinkles his nose. "Absolutely shameless!"

"It's been too long, Nawaki," he says, wrapping his arms around the shorter, careful not to squeeze too hard this time. "I bet next time I return, you'll be a husband with children. Before me."

After this year, Nawaki creeps ever closer to 20. Almost as old as the gap between the First and Second wars, funny enough. Unlike his class and most of his acquaintances—even lovers—Nawaki has never known a world at war. It's damn near heartbreaking to see yet another innocent claimed by the violence and pain of others. "The wedding's not too far now. I think I've caught someone's eye."

"Atta boy! Now, then, it's time we had a talk—"

Nawaki shoves him away without much power. "No no no. Not ever from you."

"Oh? Why are you here? Ready to play more tricks? Set up traps?"

The curve to Nawaki's lips vanishes. He shuffles in his seat and preens his standard uniform. "Ah. Er, it's about Brother[2]."

"What happened? I knew he was a little"—he gropes the air in attempt to find the word he needs—"on edge lately."

"Not surprised. He's been like that because of me. It's all my fault, Jiraiya."

He grabs Nawaki's shoulders, to steady the boy's quaking voice. "Hey hey hey, you can't control how others react to you. And you can't mind read. Did you talk to him?"

"Brother won't really talk to me. And it is my fault. I'm the reason he quit being Jounin Commander!"

Orochimaru quit being the Jounin Commander, something he rightfully deserved and worked so hard to keep? No wonder they were bickering. His old friend is stressed.

"We went on a mission just before the war began," Nawaki continues, sniffling. "Then, we got ambushed. I—I can't tell you much else. It was purged from mission records."

He feels as though a breeze can tip him over. "That can't be right…" Classifying takes far less effort. Purging is only ever done for the dirtiest of Anbu hits.

"I lost...my arm." He raises his heavily bandaged limb. The smallest gaps reveal a pale surface too lifeless to be human skin. "Sister Tsuna and Brother had a long, long talk when thought I was sleeping. He kept blaming himself over and over…" He keeps his eyes on the ground, seeing a world invisible to Jiraiya. "If I'm going to keep fighting in the war, I can't ever be weak. I need help."

"How are you gonna get help? You're healing."

"You can do something they won't. You can become my master."

A wire hooks onto Orochimaru's ankle, giving him seconds to rush chakra and prevent any major tears before the wire tightens and tugs.

To the sky he goes, up the cliff and rolls onto solid ground. The wire releases his ankle and snakes back to the user: a ninja in the standard Anbu bodysuit with added long sleeves, in which the wire retracts into a hidden compartment. A ribbon tied to a cracked mask covers the man's face. The eye holes are pitch black, revealing nothing of the person behind it.

"Name," he says.

Anbu and ninja operate on two separate systems, one of which preferring to prioritize and classify information. The masked agents would never summon up the courage to unmask themselves in public and in the their eyes of family, ignorant to what their loved one has become. One of them can die here and be erased from reality.

The Anbu agent holds his palms up. "Fox. ID 01-B60. I arrived here about month ago, following the intel described by the former Swordsman of the Mist, Motochika Sei, under the orders of a Jounin. If you look down that gorge, you will see a few corpses from my team."

Identification, agent number for reports and confirmations, and mission objective. The protocol may have been flawless, but Orochimaru doesn't take his eyes off the man as he glances down. Sprawled upon the rocks and soil are face-down corpses, brown stains blossoming and smearing the nearby water. He bites back a wince; their deaths were painless and quick, thankfully. At the top, a rotting rope bridge sways side-to-side, connecting the two gorges. The forest is too dense on the other side for a clear view.

"What happened?"

"We received reports of these islands having a parasite of sorts, leading to the nearby village to have been deserted 18 years ago. This parasite enters your body through some unknown measure and most likely releases hallucinogenic toxins that causes one to die by suicide."

A parasite causing ninja to walk to their deaths? Why such a violent end for their hosts? Parasites aim to propagate their kind. Unless they need the host to die. Without Tsunade, he can't get an autopsy. Too much time has past to determine much of anything from the corpses.

"How are you alive?" He searches for the slightest fraction of movement so he can take him out.

"I don't know. Upon losing several agents, a few of us planned to fall unconscious until help arrived. Unfortunately, Water blocked all attempts. The only thing we could do was stay sedated. Before I knew it, I was all alone."

If only he were still Jounin Commander, He'd have a fraction more knowledge to confirm whether or not distress calls came from here. Regardless, he accepts the information one way or another.

"Do you have a boat coming to pick you up?" Fox says.

"Five days."

Fox sucks air through his teeth. "I have enough sedatives for the both us to last three days. Paralytics are too risky without our medic. If you go into respiratory failure, I can't save you."

Being stuck on an abandoned island with a ninja primed for stealth and disposal is nightmare. He draws blood from the back of his hand and smears the blood over his forearm seal. In a burst of smoke, Sujihime appears and wraps herself around him. "Yessss?"

"How many snakes can I send on a scouting mission?"

"Scouting mission?" Fox had stuffed his hands inside his pockets but stays far enough away.

"If Aburame control bugs, I would not be surprised if a ninja could control parasites."

"Right. They could be in the near vicinity."

"Eight snakesss are available. Sssummoning them."

The smoke cloud dissipates. Eight snakes of varying greens and browns slithering on him arm. He sets them on the ground. "Scout the land, find any clue of a person. Quickly."

"And us?" Fox glances at the snakes slithering past, unfazed.

He glances behind him. "Don't die."

He manifests rope and ties it around Fox's middle and to the tree. For the remainder of the rope, he ties in on his own torso. Not as sophisticated or painless as a hiker would prefer, but it's either this or become splatter on a shore where no one will ever look.

Finished, he looks up to see Fox investigating the rope. "Problem?"

"What makes you think we wouldn't cut through this?"

"This is temporary. Two, if we do not imagine being tied by rope, we would not have a reason to cut it." He stares at Fox's arm for a moment too long. "For falls?"

"Correct."

"Orochimaru, a sssnake dissscovered a hole," Suji reports. With a location, the he unfastens the tree knot, and the duo comb through more overgrown plants to a large rock. Shoving it aside is easy. Beneath the rock, a hole.

He meets Fox's eyes. "I didn't know this was here."

They hop down, Fox sealing the opening. He performs an Academy technique: forming a flame on his fingertip. He leads the way, checking behind to monitor Fox's movements. The stale, humid tunnels are very well made. They haven't fallen into disuse like overgrown mold or home to insects.

Plus, he gets a whiff of a human's scent.

They move from bend to bend until a light shines up ahead. They cross the threshold. The opens up to a underground chamber lit with two torches. Coconuts and fish are thrown onto a blanket. The other blanket is for the man who stares at them, sea-colored eyes huge, with a tortoise shell tied on top his head. His is either a lanky man or his clothes are improperly sized. He reeks of dirt and salt, though Orochimaru refrains from covering his nose.

And the man releases an ear-piercing screech, one that drills into his soul. He stops only to stumble and fall onto the ground. "Don't kill me! I'm not responsible for the village, I swear!"

Fox lets out a small grunt, cutting himself free of the rope without asking and grips the man by his ill-fitted, pink shirt. "You make these tunnels?"

The man trembles. His mouth opens and closes, no words. All he can do is keep his gaze on Orochimaru.

"Talk," Fox rasps, "or die."

He goes pale. "O-Okay! You can have them! I insist! If you take the tunnel to your left, the toilet isn't half bad, all things considered."

Orochimaru stays at the entrance. "Name."

"Alright! It's Koura[3]! The hermit in the caves." He gives a toothy smile, but it does not reach his eyes. "I'm trying to survive here, y-you see…"

Fox lets him go, and Koura scrambles to a safe corner. "You? Survive here? You must have help."

"I wish! I don't have anything. Except this. I promise it's mine." He digs in his dirty pants for a crumbled piece of paper. "A letter. It came here two years ago. It's real! I'm not lying."

Fox takes the paper, skims it, and throws it behind him. "Take him to the gorge. He may be responsible for the murders."

"What? Nuh-uh. You can't say that!"

Orochimaru plucks the paper lined with elegant handwriting. Too quick to say Koura couldn't have done it, but it's likely he did not forge it. Dear Koura, it reads, Have you been able to cross the sea yet?

Koura latches onto his legs, begging, "Keep me away from him! That guy's creepy and crazy. I'm on the island minding my business. I don't know any Anbu."

Orochimaru places the folded letter in his flak jacket. "Do not touch me."

The man clings tighter. "I promise you! I can find you a really mean coconut! Stay long enough and the biggest spider crabs come out! Feast for days, my man."

His hair stands on end. He can kill many things. Spiders will never be one of them. "Do not touch me."

"That man has a parasite in him," Fox says. "How can he collect food? The moment he leaves these tunnels, he will die."

"Woah woah, parasites? There's parasites? Oh my God! Can't you kill them?"

"We don't know where they are," Fox says.

"You're not very good at your job, then! How can you just kill me but not a parasite?"

Fox growls. He pulls out a kunai and lunges.

Koura trips over his own feet running behind Orochimaru who tries his hardest not to roll his eyes towards the heavens. "Could be immune."

Fox stills but remains on guard. "Are you sure humans can develop immunity? Is he worth the risk?"

Koura peeks out on the side of his legs. "Um, yes! I can help. And you can get all the credit, while I stay alive. Win-win."

"Do not touch me," he repeats. Suji stirs on his wrist. "News?"

"There isss no other perssson in the area. Nothing wasss found."

No person nearby could mean the island truly is deserted, save for Koura. Still, picturing Koura as a mastermind? He would have to be an amazing actor.

"What now?" Fox bends his arms into a W-shape.

Orochimaru grabs Koura by the collar. "Test his immunity."

Jiraiya gapes in awe of the boy's words.

"You will train a student who will save or destroy this world," the great toad's words ring his head.

Nawaki Senju, the brother five years junior to Tsunade and Orochimaru, is the Child of the Prophecy? Nawaki, the boy who will go on to save or destroy the world?

No. How would those two react seeing Nawaki die as a villain? How can Jiraiya make sure Nawaki is the one? A laugh pries itself through his lips. "You can't be serious."

Nawaki huffs in indignation. "I've thought about this for months, Jiraiya. Big Sister and Brother are busy or coddle me. You're not like them. You've always pushed me."

"Pushing isn't the same as being a good teacher or having anything worth teaching. Ask Lord Hokage or your Academy teacher. Better yet, ask the Uzumaki Clan! They'll do anything for you! Money? You got it! Women? If the women are down, that's yours, too! Become their leader? In the bag!"

"I weighed every choice out there. It's not like you were my first pick."

He coughs as if kicked in the gut.

"That came out mean," Nawaki concedes. "I would never put you in this position if I knew it would hurt you. Lord Hokage is way too busy. He doesn't get me. The Academy teachers are all mediocre Chuunin. You're a Jounin. You've done a lot. You survived the Cherry Blossom Massacre, for crying out loud! You have so much to teach me."

"Well…" His chest grows three times as big. He'd never admit his worth, but Nawaki said it after all. "Wait, no. Don't flatter me."

"Don't be so stubborn."

"Should you be saying that?"

Nawaki's begging continues, but he doesn't listen. A man walks through the front door, his familiar grayish-white ponytail catching his eye.

Sakumo Hatake is two years his senior and already makes a name for himself. He never had the chance to work with him, only hearing his achievements through the gape vine. Apparently, his girlfriend is really ill. Means that not only can Sakumo use a little pick-me-up, he's soon to be on the market.

At any rate, Nawaki will be perfect with Sakumo.

Orochimaru and Fox agree on one thing since meeting: ignoring Koura's whining.

The tortoise man sits on the shore under the dying light, half-heartedly catching fish. Concealed in the forest is the two of them, tied to separate trees. He rubs his wrist absent from Suji's cold scales.

"Listen." Fox keeps his eyes trained on Koura. "If I die, there's something you must know."

An Anbu agent of all people telling him secrets. He stifles a bubbling chuckle.

"I…made a mistake. At the time, it seemed so small. Now, I wish I could time travel and tell myself to never do it."

A gust of wind ripples the trees and plants, bringing with it the smell of salt and something metallic. It hisses between them, their ears, as if to shush Fox.

"I lied," he says, voice quaking on the words. "I thought with the death of my team, the guilt would fade. It never has. They say lies aren't real, but they are. A lie holds as much weight as the truth does."

A lie…

A month ago, he murdered a member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. He had to. The man easily betrayed his country. He was a liability. Takenaka and Hinome would have understood, even if they're not friends, right? No, they wouldn't have understood. If they could, that makes his lie worthless, right?

"Lies are a ghost that haunts me. I could handle their sad, judging gaze, but a lie is the potential of them knowing the truth…that I stole. The longer it lasts, the worse it grows."

He shouldn't have lied to Hiruzen, though. In the moment he fidgeted with the blanket in the hospital, he wanted to tell him, but he ignored it. No, the man would not have believed him, either. He didn't believe him about Madara. It's good what he's done.

"If I die," Fox says, sighing, "I fear I will take this lie into the afterlife."

Tsunade would be furious knowing he has a body stuck in a corpse scroll, always in the pocket of his flak jacket. Jiraiya would shake his head sadly. There's no point in telling them if it'll hurt them. He'll…deal with the corpse some other way. He needs time. He needs—

Fox grips his arm and cuts him free. "Koura's drowning himself."

Koura lies face down in the water, no thrashing. Fox sprints past Orochimaru as he rips cloth and places them inside his ears. Silence. All silence. He bolts for the body. Fox is already pulling him back, fighting Koura's struggling, shouting at the man. He grabs the man and Body Flickers to the shore.

He drops him onto the sand, seizes his chin and tilts. Koura coughs up water and spit with every slap of the back. Fox should holding him back. Instead, the man walks into waist-deep waters.

He slices the remainder of rope dangling off his torso, ties it to Koura's hand and foot. Wasting none of his shrinking time, he heads into the water in time to catch the tip of his mask's ears disappear into the water.

The night and sky have become one. He stretches his arms out to brush against a limb. It takes four sweeps until he touches something. He clings onto it—an arm. Following it, a body. Still warm. He takes the body and flickers onto the shore where Koura fights against his restraints.

Suji, now!

Through the channel of summon and summoner, Suji Reverse Summons the three of them inside the tunnel where he left her. The strain causes her and the other snakes to return, but their job is done. He tosses Koura to the side in order to place Fox flat on the ground.

He yanks out the cloth in his ears to check the agent's fading pulse and breathing—there's no breathing. His fingers slips into the eye holes and stop. Once he removes the mask, the agent's identity will be revealed, the one thing that an agent values above all, the one thing that—provided he survives—gave the man confidence to reveal his secret. Once the mask is removed, his true identity becomes another lie Orochimaru will be forced to bear alone.

He brushes the cool metal of his forehead protector and pulls it over his eyes.

His body moves automatically. Tilt the man's head, clear his airway, pinch the nose, breathe once, breathe twice. The doll-like body yields to his beck and call until its owner retches up liquid contents.

He opens his eyes. A small strip of light exposes how the man's back faces the side as he fights for air. "Alright?"

The man takes a shuddering gasps. At length, he turns to face him. "You're a good man," he croaks. A tiredness overtakes his voice where Orochimaru assumed there'd be joy to be alive. "It's a damn shame."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] it's an "izakaya"type of bar (not to be mistaken for "izaya-kun")

[2] Nawaki refers to him as "Orochimaru-nii" or "nii-chan". (Tsunade is referred to as "nee-chan" or "Tsuna-nee".)

[3] koura (甲羅 ) - shell/carapace ie crab shell, turtle shell.

AN:

Fun fact — I had this idea cuz decades ago, I learned about the Roanoke Colony. Even now, it fascinates me.