Orochimaru Gaiden

Dedicated to my eleven-year-old self. You are remembered.

Book of the Rising Star

Chapter 1

Acts of Strength

The night before my graduation exam at the Academy, I visited my parents' graves, two anonymous slabs of grey stone among dozens, arranged in neat rows in a vast, empty grass field. I would not have been able to tell them apart from the others if the Third Hokage hadn't taken me there with him so often.

I enjoyed walking to the graveyard at night, practising my footwork in the silent streets of the village, basking in the silvery light of a crescent moon instead of shielding my face from a blinding sun. I enjoyed going alone. More than anything, I enjoyed not bringing flowers.

Whenever the Third Hokage offered to take me there with him after the end of class, he would make a detour to the florist's, without sparing a thought for the chance that I might object.

I never did. In truth, I didn't think I minded the flowers, like I didn't mind that the sun was setting, showering our path to the graveyard in its shimmering red-orange blood, or that the Third Hokage wanted to accompany me.

However, now that I was sitting cross-legged in the grass, unconcerned with soiling the white kimono with a purple collar that I was wearing over a sleeveless fishnet mesh shirt in the cold November air, I felt like I could take off a heavy iron mask I didn't realise I had to wear.

A bouquet of white chrysanthemums from the week before rested on each tombstone.

I regarded the wilting flowers poking out of the wrappers, their petals now more yellow than white, and recalled the Third Hokage's rationale for those gifts.

'They died protecting what was most important to them: this village and its people,' he would say. 'That is the ultimate sacrifice, the greatest proof that they were worthy avatars of the Will of Fire. It is our duty to pay our respects.'

Pulling my knees up and tucking them against my chest, I wondered why the Hokage took for granted that I would be nothing but proud of being their son, and why I had to pretend that I understood and agreed. Why was it my duty to celebrate someone's weakness?

At the Academy, I had learnt that "war" was like natural selection: the strong triumphed and the weak perished. My parents had met a stronger opponent and died. That was the simple, straight-forward nature of shinobilife. There was nothing to celebrate. If anything, their decision to fight had been senseless. Not only had it culminated in their untimely death; it would have also killed me when I was only four years old, had the Third Hokage not been keen to offer war orphans financial help and a place in the Academy until they were old enough to make a living from their own work as ninja.

I had long since realised I couldn't ask my questions to anyone. Not to my peers, the chuunin instructors, or the Third Hokage. The children didn't have any interest in investigating anything other than the inside of their nose at my age, and the adults seemed to share the Third Hokage's view, despite the fact that it was those same chuunin instructors who taught me to be the strongest shinobi I could be. I couldn't expose my perplexity. That would have been a form of weakness, too. I needed to understand their opinion first.

So I brought the flowers, listened to the Third Hokage's speeches, and tried to make sense of them while pretending I already did. Apparently, that performance tired me out more than I was aware of. Now that I was alone, contemplating an exam that was going to change my life, I noticed the sense of freedom that little escapade instilled in me. In contrast, the act felt all the more preposterous.

In fact – I mused to myself – even if I were to understand their reasoning, I knew deep inside that I would not agree with it anyway. I did not want to respect weakness; I only cared for strength. How could the former compare to the latter in a world dominated by war?

And, if I wanted strength, I couldn't keep wasting my time on classes about basic ninjutsu and shuriken throwing practice. I intended to graduate from the Academy the next day and begin my life as a true shinobi of the Leaf. I would be assigned to a team and trained by a jounin; I would learn techniques that my current instructors could not begin to imagine, let alone teach me; and I would fight and I would win and I would rise from the ashes of each battle, better and stronger, ever undefeated.

I was going to show everyone what true strength was. I was not going to be remembered for my parents' act of weakness, but for my own acts of strength. I was going to be known as a shinobiwithout equals, a force of nature, all the more terrifying because I didn't need a cacodemon inside me to grant me a similar amount of power.

And my first act of strength was going to be becoming genin at six years of age, sooner than anybody else in Konoha's history.

'Mother, Father,' I whispered in the darkness. 'The next time I come here, I will be a ninja.'

An icy gust of wind, harsher than before, blew over the graveyard and whipped me in the face and across the back with my own long strands of black hair. Pulling the kimonotighter around my shivering frame, I became acutely aware of my size. It wasn't my stature that bothered me – I expected that would change as I grew older – but I had slim limbs and a thin torso. I looked fragile.

Why else would the Third Hokage take pity on me and raise me almost as his own son? And how could I claim he was wrong? Without his charity, I would have been long dead. Who was I to call myself a strong shinobi, when I resembled a glass statuette? Who was I to dream of power, when a cold wind was enough to sweep me off my feet?

Anxiety and fatigue must have been eating away at my capacity for sound judgment, because all of a sudden I felt as powerless as only moments before I had felt on top of the world. I was almost grateful when an unexpected hiss pushed all superfluous thoughts out of my head.

I tensed and listened carefully, wondering if it might be the rustling of leaves or the wind whispering in the grass. A few moments passed. The graveyard seemed as quiet and still as if it were suspended in time. Then I saw it.

The darkness would have been too thick to notice it had it not been for its scales, white like pearls and glowing in the moonlight. It was a small snake, its flat body barely as wide as my index and middle finger held together, its head half the size of my closed fist. It was making its way towards me in the tall grass between my parents' tombstones. Its bright yellow eyes, circled by dark purple lines, stared at me with piercing intensity.

It didn't feel like the way a predator looks at prey. It felt like this snake knew I was human.… No. It was more personal than that. It felt as if it knew I was Orochimaru. As if it picked me out of all the people in the world.

When our gazes met, the creature raised its head above the grass and hissed at me again, bearing clean white fangs that glinted in the silvery light.

I didn't give it time to strike. I tapped on the side of my left shoulder, pressing a button that released a kunaifrom the holster hidden under my sleeve. Feeling the blade slide between my fingers, I threw it at my target without hesitation.

The weapon pierced through the snake's neck and embedded itself into the ground, pinning the creature like a needle would a butterfly. I waited to see if the snake would move. When it didn't, I rose to my feet, intending to retrieve my kunai, but I never even took the first step in that direction, stopped in my tracks by a wondrous sight.

The carcass split into two lengthwise at the point where the blade cut through the snake's jugular. The two halves of the creature's small head jerked, throbbed, and suddenly sprouted new flesh, bone, and skin. In the span of a few blinks, I was looking at the same snake, except now it had two heads and two sets of purple-ringed yellow eyes.

How was this possible?

I pinched the back of my hand as hard as I could, but to no avail. This was no genjutsu. It was real.

The two-headed snake resumed its crawling towards me slowly, more leisurely than before, as if to challenge me to attack again. Finally, it came to a halt not two feet away from me, gathered its body into four coils, lifted its heads until our eyes were level, and flickered its tongues out over its two sets of thin lips first, then over its fangs, deliberately, like it wanted me to watch it. And I obliged. I couldn't take my gaze off of it.

In the end, the snake lowered its heads and slithered ever closer to me. My breath itched in my throat; I held it. My entire body was shaking with fascination, exhilaration, and curiosity. The creature slinked so close to the fingertips of my right hand that I could feel its soft, wet scales against my knuckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of its tail flicking past me, then it was gone. I did not dare to move yet; I listened out for noises, but I couldn't hear anything over the howls of the wind.

I don't know how long I stayed there, contemplating a feeling that I had never felt before: awe. Was this what it felt like to meet a god? I stared at the hand it had touched, and saw that my knuckles were glowing with dew. How could such a small, seemingly helpless creature be a god? And yet, what manner of entity, if not a deity, could best death itself?

Eventually, it was the cold seeping under my skin that shook me out of my reverie. Spending too long out in the open, I could come down with an illness. That would have been inadvisable at the best of times: illnesses required medicine, medicine required money, and my monthly allowance only covered tuition and essentials. On the eve of my graduation exam, it would have been plain stupidity.

Before I left the graveyard, I picked up my kunai and held it up to inspect it in the moonlight. There was not a single trace of blood on it, even though I could have sworn I had seen it slice clean through the snake's body. I slipped it back into its hidden holster and turned my heels on my parents' graves.

In the little studio flat I called my home, I slept and dreamt of white snakes.

'Rise and shine, Orochimaru! Are you ready?'

When that powerful bellow overcame the feeble barrier provided by my front door, I was standing before the mirror covering one of the four walls of the studio, scrutinising my reflection. Holding a small brush in my right hand, I touched my fingertips to my cheekbones with the left as I studied the purple makeup lines twisting around my eyes and reaching half-way down my nose. I thought about the white snake's gaze from the night before, how it enthralled me and filled me with awe, how it disarmed me and made me feel like I and only I was its prey. That was how I wanted anyone – friend or foe – to think of me: with dread and wonder.

A smile tugged at my lips when I recognised the Third Hokage's voice. I knew he knew I had been awake since dawn, and yet that was how he would always greet me on the first day of a new academic year, an occasion for which he made time to walk me to the Academy himself.

The smile brought out dimples around the corners of my mouth and made my eyes crinkle, which altered the pattern of the purple lines in a new and interesting way.

I hummed to myself at that sight, then had to abandon my position when the Third Hokage supplemented his words with a loud knock. Feeling a jolt of anticipation coursing through me, I opened the door and immediately stepped back, both to let the Third Hokage in and to draw attention to myself and, in particular, to my painted face.

He was wearing his preferred casual attire: a blue kimono with a white sash and matching collar over a fishnet shirt. With a radiant smile already spread across his face, he parted his lips to say something, then noticed my makeup and blinked a dozen times in rapid succession. I tightened my grip around the brush and stood frozen under his inspection. Finally, his smile returned, even brighter than before, and he tapped his own cheekbone, over a thin black line of kohl.

'Well well well, isn't someone looking fierce this morning.'

Fierce.

I savoured the word, letting my tongue slither over my lips like the white snake. I felt another smile creeping across my face when I met the Third Hokage's gaze. I saw my own savage expression reflected in his widening eyes and realised my mistake at once. The concern on his face was the same he showed the first and only time I had dared to suggest we did not bring flowers to my parents' graves.

'Why not?' he had asked.

I had shrugged. I wanted to know what that Will of Fire that he saw in my parents was; I had yet to realise the danger of revealing my ignorance. 'Why commemorate failure?'

At first, he had looked upon me like I wasn't human. Slowly, his eyes had filled with pity, and he had laid a heavy hand on my headand sighed. 'Poor child.'

Like I was brittle. Like I was broken.

I knew what happened to brittle, broken people; I had seen them, burrowing in the poorest districts of Konoha like worms: old beggars in the streets, left homeless by the war; starving children, crippled by paper bombs; and women forced into prostitution after their husbands died on the battlefield. Brittle, broken people had no place in the world of power I intended to join. I would never let the Third Hokage – or anybody else – look at me as though I belonged with them.

I bowed my head and wiped the smile off my face. Had he not been staring, I would have rubbed it off forcefully with my hand. 'You honour me with your presence, Hokage-sama.'

I counted the seconds in my head, waiting with bated breath for his reply. Had I given too much away? Had I finally convinced him that my mind was unstable and thus not suited to shinobi life after all?

'Ha! None of that.' He squeezed my shoulder and, when I raised my head, he grinned at me. My stomach dropped to my feet, crushed under the weight of my relief. 'How many other shinobi-in-training do you think took their graduation exam at your age? Not a single one that I know of in the many years since Konoha's foundation. I wouldn't miss this day for the world!'

'I haven't graduated yet,' I reminded him, though a smile I couldn't suppress betrayed the true impact of his compliments.

'This isn't about your next accomplishments, Orochimaru.' His brown eyes were warm with the kind of pride a father bestows upon a talented son. 'It is about how far you have already come. Regardless of today's outcome, you have already proven yourself a true ninja.' He patted my shoulder. 'You and your fellow students are this village's future, and it's an inspiring one at that, I tell you.'

My smile waned. 'My fellow students?'

His grin took on an impish tinge, then he broke into a hearty burst of laughter. 'You will find out soon! Come on now, the written exam begins in an hour.'

I liked to walk the streets of Konoha side by side with him. Although he wasn't wearing the customary white and red robes and the triangular hat associated with his position, there wasn't a shinobi in the entire village, regardless of age or gender, that did not stop to stare: children watched us with their mouth agape and adults bowed their heads to him, then – and not without a double take at my obvious young age – to me. I noticed every stranger's attention linger on my makeup, and stuck out my chest and tilted my face up towards the sun to let them admire my handiwork.

Their eyes spoke words sweeter than honey: He's with Hokage-sama. He must be special.

I walked beside the strongest shinobi in the Land of Fire. I was going to take the graduation exam at Ninja Academy at the age of six. I was as fierce as a white snake. I was going to be unstoppable.

Charged with a kind of energy that was more intoxicating than chakra, I couldn't believe that only the night before I had been filled with doubts and fears of inadequacy. That version of me had died in the morning, when I put on my purple eyeshadow. Like a snake, I had shed that old skin and I was now reborn. No longer Orochimaru the orphan, but Orochimaru the shinobi.

I thought about telling the Third Hokage about my esoteric experience with the two-headed snake, but decided against it. This was not the time to stoke the fire of his suspicion. What if he forbade me from sitting the exam, concerned over my sanity? No. I would not have him take this away from me, not when it was finally within my grasp.

Moreover, I didn't like the thought of sharing my vision. The two-headed snake had sought me out; nobody else. If it were indeed a god, it would be disrespectful to tell the story like it was a cheap fairy tale. Lastly, if it had come to me as a good omen, I would not spoil it with careless chatter.

The exam session started an hour later than standard class, so, when we entered the courtyard outside the Academy, the only students gathered around its red front doors were the oldest, who wouldn't deign me a single glance on a normal school day. Today, they couldn't tear their eyes off of me. I caught a whiff of the words they were muttering under their breath: "With the Hokage?" "How old is this kid?" "Another one?"

The last comment caught my attention. Another one?

That was when I saw them for the first time: two other young children, who stood out like me among the twenty-seven eleven- and twelve-year-old would-be genin. One was a girl with brown eyes and straight blonde hair, dressed in a teal-coloured kimono with a pink collar and matching forearm bands; the other a boy with hair as white as my complexion and an impish grin on his face, whose light blue kimono had red flames printed along the hem of the gown and sleeves. The girl had her arms folded over her chest and gave the evil eye to anyone who made the mistake of meeting her gaze; the boy stood some distance away from the rest of the group, kicking pebbles with his hands hidden in the pockets of the black trousers he wore under his kimono.

I was familiar with the girl. She was the First Hokage's granddaughter, "Princess" Tsunade Senju. I remembered seeing the boy in class before, but he had never seemed of any consequence to me. Why were they here?

Frowning, I turned to the Third Hokage. 'I didn't know there were other students my age taking the exam today.'

He chuckled at my expression. 'I like that fire in your eyes, boy. Yes, there are two other extremely talented pupils in your year.'

I didn't yet know how I felt about it; at the moment, I was simply confused. 'Why didn't you tell me, Hokage-sama?'

The Third Hokage hummed and rubbed the stubble on his chin. 'For a challenge, I suppose. I know you want to be the best graduate; I also know you expected it would be easy to prove yourself as such if you were the youngest examinee.' I felt warmth surge from the pit of my stomach to colour my neck and cheeks. He grinned at my traitorous blush. 'So, had I mentioned this to you, I'm sure by now you would have presented me with an entire dossier on each of them. However, a ninja will not always be prepared to face an opponent.' He rested his fists on his sides. 'Consider this your "exam within the exam", if you will. So study them and do your best to surpass them.'

To my dismay, I couldn't help the rush of blood to my cheeks at that blunt analysis of my competitive nature. I nodded, letting my hair flow down my shoulders and around my face like a protective curtain. 'Yes, Hokage-sama.'

I wasn't embarrassed; I was furious with myself. He shouldn't have been able to read me that easily. The truth was, I didn't make the same effort at dissimulating my ambitions as I did those aspects of myself that didn't match what the adults deemed "proper". Perhaps I should, I considered. Ambitions could become weapons in the enemy's arsenal. Until I could count on enough strength to crush anyone and anything in my path, I would not flaunt them again.

Even those closest to me, like the Third Hokage, would never be able to talk with such confidence about what I desired.

Drawing me out of my reverie, the Third Hokage gave me an encouraging pat on the back. 'Go on then, and good luck. I have Hokage's matters to attend to this morning, but I will return for your practical this afternoon.'

I watched him leave the courtyard among bows and murmured courtesies, then shifted my attention to the other two youngest examinees. I sensed a smile pressing against the corners of my mouth, so I was quick at schooling my face into a neutral expression, mindful of the vow I had just made to myself. Those two might have some outstanding skill, but they couldn't be on par with me. After all, I received the Third Hokage's "exam within the exam", not them. I was his favourite, so I must be the strongest.

Nevertheless, it would not do to let arrogance get the best of me. Keeping a safe distance away, so I could pretend to let my gaze wander, I observed them.

Fortunately, the boy gravitated around the girl, Tsunade, like a moth to a flame. She ignored him so blatantly that it was clear she was aware of his attention. In the end, he gathered up enough courage to walk up to her and say something I couldn't hear nor make out, because he had his back turned on me. I could see Tsunade's face, her left eye twitching, a vein pulsing on her temple, and her mouth twisting as she shouted, 'Idiot!'

Then she punched him so hard that she lifted him off his feet and sent him flying across the courtyard and over the roofs of the surrounding buildings. The spectacle stole everybody's attention, including mine, and whispers spread among the older students. Tsunade noticed their stares and shook her fist in their general direction. 'What are you looking at, punks?!'

No one dared to answer or meet her gaze, except me. We exchanged a brief glance, then she turned her nose up, scoffed, and folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the wall of the Academy.

Satisfied with the information I had gathered, I moved away from her and closer to the entrance doors. With that incredible strength, she was likely a talented taijutsu user, which made her a potential threat, since it was the ninja art I was the least adept at. So, if the practical exam was going to involve taijutsu, I would be at a disadvantage. At the same time, if she relied primarily on physical prowess, then she might be less skilled with hand signs and genjutsu, two areas in which I excelled. On the whole, the odds were in my favour.

As for the boy, so far it seemed like his greatest ability was to irritate her. I didn't think I would need to worry about his performance.

At last, one side of the double doors swung open, and a chuunin instructor's black-haired head poked out. He surveyed eyes through the rectangular lenses of his metal glasses and commanded, 'Form pairs and wait in line, please. The written examination begins in five minutes. No latecomers will be allowed.'

Well then, it seemed like the boy was not going to sit the exam after all. Even if he had survived the hit and somehow did not need a hospital, it was unlikely he would make it back in less than five minutes.

I searched for a nearby student to get in line with, when Tsunade stomped over to me and positioned herself at my side uninvited. At first I imagined she intended to befriend the only other child her age left, but a look at her scowl proved me wrong.

'I've seen you in class before. You're Orochimaru, the one who's always getting the best grades, aren't you?' she asked bluntly.

I cocked an eyebrow and shrugged. 'Yes.'

'Good. We'll sit together.' Hers was not a question. I was beginning to understand just how fitting the title "Princess" was for her. She pushed a strand of her long blonde fringe away from her face. 'At least I know you won't try to copy my answers like that other cretin.'

If the "other cretin" was the white-haired boy, that explained what he had asked her before she punched him, which confirmed my suspicions he had no talent whatsoever I would have to concern myself with. I noted that she seemed confident about her academic knowledge and that she took more notice of her surroundings than she let on. She remembered me – even my name – although we had not shared more than a couple of classes and never talked to each other. I had to admit I was impressed. This granddaughter of the First Hokage had obviously been raised to honour her clan.

The chuunin instructor supervised the formation of the line, nodded when he deemed it satisfactory, and motioned for the first pair to enter the building.

Right as Tsunade and I were about to cross the threshold, a high-pitched voice rose behind us, turning all heads towards the entrance to the courtyard: the white-haired boy was running towards us at full speed, yelling, 'Wait! Wait! Wait!'

He kept squealing even when it became obvious that the chuunin instructor was indeed waiting for him. I noticed, not without surprise, that the boy looked unscathed, except for a purple bruise on his swollen cheek. That and the fact that he was rushing towards us like his life depended on it was undeniable evidence of his stamina, another of my less developed characteristics.

When the boy came to a screeching halt before him, the chuunin instructor crossed his arms and frowned at him, staring him down over the brim of his glasses. 'Jiraiya, isn't it?'

The boy nodded as fast as he could run, his words strangled between bouts of heavy panting as he wiped sweat off his brow. 'Y-yes, sir!'

'Quit putting on a show and get in line,' the chuunin instructor ordered curtly, pointing at the only girl left without a partner. Jiraiya uttered the loudest sigh that a boy of his stature was capable of, and sauntered over to stand next to her.

With that, we were led to the examination room, where five rows of desks faced a podium and a blackboard that spanned an entire wall. It might have been the biggest classroom in the building, because all thirty of us could take a seat whilst leaving an empty space between each student, as requested by the chuunin instructor.

Tsunade sprinted to secure a position in the first row, between the wall and me. As a result, I was forced to sit between her and Jiraiya, whose face fell when he realised he would not be able to copy her answers. Apparently, he was not as privy to my academic score as she seemed to be.

Once we were all seated, the chuunin instructor proceeded to distribute a sheet of paper and a pen to each of us, demanding that we keep the paper turned over on the blank side until he told us to begin.

I twirled the pen between my fingers and stole a glance at Tsunade's and Jiraiya's faces. She was sporting the exact same grimace as when she got in line with me, whereas Jiraiya was fidgeting and staring at the blank page in such an obvious manner that I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he no doubt tried to find a way to cheat without being found out.

Finally, I closed my eyes for a second and cleared my head. As the Third Hokage had told me, I had studied my "enemies" and drawn my conclusions. Now it was time to set those considerations aside and focus on the "exam outside the exam".

After completing his rounds around the classroom, the chuunin instructor went to stand behind the podium, where he had a comprehensive view of the whole room. 'The written test comprises thirty questions. You are given a point for every question you answer correctly; you get a point deducted for every mistake. You have an hour to finish starting from the moment I give you the go-ahead, but you can withdraw or leave at any time if you finish early. Anyone who tries to cheat will be disqualified immediately.' Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Jiraiya's shoulders slumping and caught the chuunin instructor staring at him for a second. 'Any questions?' No one spoke. 'Good. Begin!'

The crackling of paper filled the room as we turned the sheets over.

I quickly worked out that, from that moment onwards, I had two minutes for each question. I read the first one, the second, then the third, and had to hold back a triumphant smile. I knew the answer to all of them.

Easing myself into the flow of my own thoughts, which provided each solution without a fault, I put pen to paper and began to write.

Twenty-five minutes later, I stood up, well aware of the other examinees' gazes on my back and the chuunin instructor's eyes on my painted face. Slinking past Tsunade and Jiraiya, I noticed that she was half-way through the paper, whereas he held his head between his hands before a blank sheet. I bit down on my grin, made my way to the chuunin instructor, and deposited the sheet of paper on the podium.

He cocked an eyebrow. 'Are you withdrawing?'

I mimicked his expression. 'I am finished.'

Silence, punctured only by the screeching of twenty-nine pens on twenty-nine exam papers. At last, the chuunin instructor nodded to the door. 'You may go. The practical will begin after lunch.'

I left the room without resisting casting one last glance at Tsunade and Jiraiya. I caught both of them staring at me, all the while pretending to be looking down at their desks. As soon as I was out of the room and alone in the hallway, I allowed myself the wide smile I had been fighting back the whole time.

'Orochimaru,' called the chuunin instructor's stern voice from inside the classroom, shortly after Jiraiya walked out, with a dazzling grin splitting his face in two and a forehead protector clenched in his fist.

At the start of the practical exam, we had all been lined up against the wall in the hallway to wait for our turn. Tsunade, Jiraiya, and I had been left for last, most likely due to our age, and now I was the only one who had yet to take the test.

Jiraiya hardly spared me a glance as he crossed the hallway in leaps and bounds, laughing so hard that a couple of teachers emerged from their classrooms and whacked him over the head with a stick. Their exasperated faces and long sighs suggested this was not the first time they had to resort to corporal punishment to rein him in.

I clenched my fists, staring at his retreating back for a second before I turned to the door of the classroom. I wasn't worried about passing. If that buffoon had somehow managed it, there was no doubt I would as well. It was a matter of passing the "exam within the exam", of proving myself the most promising of today's graduates.

Feeling the weight of my own expectations draped over my shoulders like a heavy cloak, I entered the same room I had left only hours before, wearing a crown of triumph.

The desks were all empty now, save for two in the first row: the Third Hokage was in my seat, elbows on the desktop and fingers steepled together, whereas the chuunin instructor was on the opposite side of the room, with a clipboard in one hand and a stack of forehead protectors on the desk in front of him.

The Third Hokage was decked in full white and red robes and triangular hat, his face a mask of solemnity and friendliness. For all that he was only in his twenties, he fit his role as though he were already much older. Even I, who was more familiar than most with his more playful side, did not doubt for a moment that I was laying my gaze on the strongest shinobi in the village right now.

Our eyes locked for a moment, and he winked at me. Then the chuunin instructor cleared his throat and said, 'Stand before the podium, please.' He gestured towards the spot he meant with one hand and spoke again once I complied: 'The practical consists of performing one of the techniques you will have been practising in your studies. You will receive a grade for this, which will be added to the score you obtained in the written test. I will let you know what your total score is when we finish, and you will receive a forehead protector as proof of your graduation. Is this clear?'

I had known those rules all my life, yet my heart still leapt in my throat as he rattled them off like a well-oiled machine. I gave a single, brusque nod. 'Yes, sir.'

'Good. Please show us…'

The Third Hokage interrupted him with a polite cough. 'My apologies, Onikuma-san. Would you mind if I chose the technique this one time?'

Onikuma-san's hesitation betrayed the fact that the request had no precedent. I was the only one the Hokage wanted to test in a different way. I could almost visualise the war waging in the chuunin instructor's mind between the protocol and his respect for the Hokage. At last, he bowed his head. 'Of course, Hokage-sama. Please.'

I tilted my head towards the Third Hokage and folded my hands behind my back, the perfect picture of a perfect student. He smiled his approval and hummed for a few moments, as though he was pondering which technique to request.

When he spoke again, I knew it had all been a ruse; I knew he had chosen it long before asking Onikuma-san permission to do so. 'Please show us the Temporary Paralysis Technique, Orochimaru.'

Neither of us smiled at the other, but I recognised the telltale crinkles around the Third Hokage's eyes, which only appeared when he was holding back his mirth; and I was all too conscious of the grin I was hiding behind my composed façade. Onikuma-san looked between us, frowning, probably in a failed attempt to guess at the history we shared with that particular technique.

'What are you doing, Orochimaru?'

The previous summer, a few months before I turned five years old, the Third Hokage had left me in his office unsupervised after class while he attended a last-minute meeting; he had admonished me to "behave" until he came back. He had then walked in on me sitting cross-legged on the floor, nose-deep into a scroll I had discovered lying open on his desk. I had looked up at him like a doe caught between a cliff and a pack of wolves, and he had burst into laughter once he peered down at the scroll and recognised the technique it contained.

'Curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of, boy. You can take that home with you if you want.'

'Really?'

'Oh, yes, but that's a D-rank technique. You would usually learn it after graduating from the Academy, so don't expect to master it in a matter of weeks.'

'Who may I perform it on, Hokage-sama?' I asked.

This time, a small grin did creep across his face. 'Me, if you please.'

His answer stunned me and Onikuma-san both. I was the first one to recover and let my arms fall at my sides, the long wide sleeves of my kimono covering my hands. I adopted a battle stance, one foot in front of the other, torso angled sideways even though my head was facing my target directly.

The Third Hokage rested his back against the seat, likely waiting for me to work my way through the hand signs necessary to activate the technique. His pupils dilated and his lips parted when I simply stared him dead in the eye.

His expression reminded me of a different day, not long after the first memory, a week or so before summer's end.

'How did you manage this in five weeks?'

'I practised, Hokage-sama.'

I called forth my chakra, shaped it, and aimed it at him like I would kunai. It hit, too, with the same precision of a kunai. When his initial surprise subsided, the Third Hokage gritted his teeth and strained against the invisible ropes now holding him in place. I sensed his chakra rising to match mine, and doubled my efforts to keep him restrained. I felt beads of sweat gathering on my forehead and my chakra reserves depleting, but I hardened myself against the physical discomfort.

The Third Hokage furrowed his brows and tried to pry my chakra away from him with his own, yet to no avail. In a moment that felt like an eternity, I held him in my power.

Yes, doing so was taking everything I had to give. Yes, he was not losing as much chakra in his attempt to break free as I was in my attempt to maintain my grasp on him. Yes, in a true combat situation, an opponent of his ranking would kill me in a heartbeat.

None of this mattered in that instant.

All that mattered was that they were my chains he was struggling against; it was my chakra he could not overcome, albeit temporarily; it was me who was proving a challenge to the greatest ninja in Konoha.

At last, the energy required to keep the technique active brought me down on one knee. In the split-second during which I lost eye contact, he escaped the chakra-laced bindings and stood up lightning-fast, slamming his palms on the desktop, ever so slightly out of breath. I watched him through strands of my black hair, fallen over my face, as I panted hard and fought not to lose consciousness.

'That's… enough.' He cleared his throat, adjusted his collar and hat, and let out one of his good-natured guffaws. 'Ha, you really got me there! That was excellent, boy. And without using hand signs, no less!' He tapped the desktop again, with considerable less force than a minute before, and nodded towards Onikuma-san, who, to his credit, had kept his composure throughout the test. 'Full marks, I would say. What do you think, Onikuma-san?'

The chuunin instructor stared at me in a way no one ever had, as though I was a dangerous beast he was afraid to anger. 'I agree, Hokage-sama. I have never seen… anything quite like that.'

And yet, his didn't sound like a compliment. When he intercepted my gaze, he averted his own to consult and add to the notes on his clipboard. His reaction reminded me of my encounter with the two-headed snake and filled me with a sense of elation. This time, I was the snake, not the little boy ensnared by its magnetic eyes. And Onikuma-san looked upon me with dread and wonder.

'Well then, this makes you the graduate with the highest marks in this exam session,' Onikuma-san told me after he finished writing, though he didn't meet my eyes again. 'You almost got a full score on the writing exam, too. You only got one question wrong.'

The Third Hokage raised an eyebrow. 'Did he now?'

Although every bone and muscle in my body was screaming in protest, I hauled myself to my feet and drew my eyebrows together. 'May I ask which one?'

The chuunin instructor glanced at his clipboard once more. 'Number twenty-nine. "You and your team are making your way back to Konoha after a mission. You encounter a group of war orphans running away from an enemy village. What would you do?" The options were, "A: Kill them," and "B: Spare them." You…' He feigned a cough. 'You chose A. As per the Shinobi Code of Conduct regularly discussed in class, "A shinobi must respect death." The ability to kill comes with great responsibility. A worthy ninja must not take this lightly.'

The Third Hokage stroked his stubble. 'Hm. Sounds like a small error by distraction to me. That's one of those questions included for the benefit of under-achieving students desperate to rack up some points, isn't it?'

I felt like this was another of those times when all the adults seemed privy to some obscure knowledge that went against common logic and yet was somehow held in the highest regard over it. Fortunately, the Third Hokage was offering me the perfect opportunity to do what I usually did and pretend I understood their reasoning.

Not so fortunately, I was down to my last drops of chakra, I was fighting against my own exhausted body for every second that I managed to spend awake, and I could feel my thoughts and inhibitions slipping away from me like sand through my fingers. So, before I could think better of it, I found myself saying, 'Respectfully, Onikuma-san, Hokage-sama. These "war orphans from an enemy village" could be spies or undercover shinobi. And, even in the event they were nothing but orphans, they wouldn't live long left to their own devices. In this case, killing them would be a more merciful choice than letting them die of thirst and malnutrition in a matter of days.'

The awkward silence following my words snapped me out of my fatigue-addled state. How could I have been so stupid?

I knew, even before I dared to look at the Hokage's face, what awaited me: the expression I so detested, the one that stripped me of all my current skills and future potential and labelled me a sad orphan, brittle and broken, unworthy of shinobi life.

In the past, that look had made me want to hide and pretend to conform.

In my current weakened, uninhibited state, it made me livid. It made me hate the Hokage and his softness. How could he not see that my argument was only another sign of my brilliance and not proof that I was sad because my parents died? It was pure folly to mistake my analytical abilities for tenderness of heart, a waste of what I was and what I could do if only given the chance.

One day, the Third Hokage would see it. One day, I would show him that I wasn't just a broken soul for him to take under his wing. One day, he and the whole village would find out what I was capable of.

'What an interesting analysis, Orochimaru-kun,' the Hokage commented. I winced at the suffix. He only called me "Orochimaru-kun" when he thought me vulnerable, like I was a frightened kitten he ought to comfort. 'However, it seems to me that you are making a number of assumptions, a potentially risky behaviour for a shinobi. Nonetheless, an almost perfect score in the written test and top marks in the practical leave no doubt about your outstanding achievements.'

He left his seat, took a forehead protector from Onikuma-san's desk, and held it in both hands as he approached me in slow, solemn strides. At last, he stood before me, the forehead protector between us. I stared at the blue fabric, the smooth plaque with the stylised leaf etched on its surface, and felt my resolve hardening.

One day, the entire Land of Fire would kneel before me, my humble beginnings and pathetic background all but forgotten in the wake of my greatness.

I made to accept the forehead protector, but the Third Hokage lifted it beyond my grasp, wrapped it around my head, and tied the two straps into a knot. The metal was cold against my skin and the cloth got stuck in my hair. He took a step back and admired his handiwork with a warmer smile than when he had seen me with my purple makeup earlier that morning. 'Congratulations. Today you become genin, an official shinobi of the Leaf. May you attain the utmost honour for your village.'

Still burning with anger and determination, I rested my hands on my thighs and performed a deep bow. 'Yes, Hokage-sama.'

I would do everything in my power to attain honour, but not for the Leaf.

For myself.

So that everyone would look at me the way Onikuma-san did: with dread and wonder.

So that everyone would see who I was and not who they wanted me to be: a two-headed snake, strong enough to rise from the dead, and not a lonely little boy without a family.

That was going to be my ultimate act of strength.

Chapter notes:

1. I don't own Naruto, but I do own this story, so please do not repost it anywhere else, or let me know if you find it on other websites.

2. This has been cross-posted to Archive of Our Own. You can find me as MrEvilside there, too.

3. This volume will comprise three chapters of about 7-10k each, covering some pivotal moments in Orochimaru's childhood.

There will be two more volumes, each focusing on different phases of his life in chronological order, from early years to adulthood.

4. I work full-time six days a week and train for five, so updates will be inconsistent. I am however committed to completing the story and I am already half-way through the second chapter, so please have faith.

5. I started watching and reading Naruto when I was eleven. I stopped reading after Jiraiya passed away; I could not take the direction that the story was taking.

Now, thirteen years later, I decided to share this amazing work of fiction with my partner, so we started watching the anime from the beginning and, this time, I intend to finish it.

As a result, I do not know the events following Jiraiya's death, except for some Orochimaru- and Sannin-related events that I researched out of interest and for the sake of this story. Knowing this, please try not to leave any spoilers in the comment.

6. Considering the Third Hokage likely provided Naruto with his flat and a monthly allowance, it would make sense he would have done the same for Orochimaru, taking an interest in him not only out of compassion because he was an orphan, but also acting in the interest of the village, since Orochimaru demonstrated such great talent for the ninja arts since he was very young.

It was a time of unrest, so the Hokage – as a military leader – would have wanted to raise any promising soldier in case of a future war, which was a very real possibility.

7. The question that Orochimaru gets wrong in the written exam is inspired by the Sannin's first encounter with the three Ame orphans that Jiraiya chose to save after Orochimaru suggested he would kill them instead.

8. The Onikuma clan does exist in the original, in case you are wondering.

9. I am based in England, so I write in British English, using UK conventions (such as single quotes as dialogue tags).

10. I have had this story in my heart for thirteen years and I am finally getting around to writing it and sharing it with you all.

Orochimaru is my favourite fictional character ever, and this work is so, so dear to me. I would love to know what you think of it.

Thank you for reading.