A/N I have never written anything like this before. It is dark for me but probably not that bad. I am having a major identity crisis with my next project. I actually really need some help if anyone wants to dm me on Tumblr and help me sort through my thoughts I would appreciate it. This was just a scene that popped into my head on my run this morning. It is sort of a rando au scene from that project, time travel blah blah blah. Sakumo is alive. timeline is wonky for this.

Another experiment failed.

Damn.

Orochimaru threw a sheet over the dead child. He would deal with his corpse later.

Maybe the next boy.

Recreating Hashirama's wood release was proving more difficult than he had expected. Every attempt had been an abysmal failure. There were still several ongoing, but he did not have high hopes. Perhaps he needed to start from scratch. Maybe a change of scenery would help. He could feel his former sensei closing in. Hiruzen would not approve of his little project, no matter that it may one day prove useful.

A thrill ran down his spine and he froze mid-step. Someone had crossed his warding. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his chakra. Only one person?

Surely if it was Hiruzen, he would not have come alone.

And he would mask his chakra.

Whoever this was was doing nothing to hide themselves. They wanted him to know they were there.

Interesting.

"Alright. I'll bite."

Orochimaru left his lab taking the most direct route through the compound.

In the narrow ravine leading to his cave entrance, stood a man. He was familiar and yet… not. Keeping his guard up, he scanned the treeline for any companions but there truly didn't seem to be anyone else.

He stepped into the light. The man looked up.

"The White Fang?"

Orochimaru was immediately on the defensive. The number of Leaf shinobi he felt truly able to threaten him was few, but this man was one of them.

"Sakumo."

The man let out a low, hollow chuckle.

"Not quite."

Upon closer inspection, he realized that no, this was not Hatake Sakumo. The bottom half of his face was covered, and he wore civilian clothes, but there was a weapons pouch at his hip and a large scroll tied to his back. The hair was the same.

"Who are you and what do you want? Please, stranger. My time is terribly precious."

"You don't need to know who I am. What I want is your help."

Orochimaru's eyes narrowed. There was something in his voice, a desperate, broken quality that scratched across the air between them. This was a man with nothing left to lose. Hm. He may be useful.

He tipped his head, a smirk spreading across his face. "My help, hmm? With what, I wonder? My expertise is… rather varied."

"The Nidaime's Impure World Reanimation jutsu." Shock sparked in Orochimaru's chest but he allowed none of it to show. "I know you can do it. You haven't perfected it yet, but I don't need it to be perfect. I just need it to work."

Yet?

He had only performed the forbidden jutsu once. The idea of tooling with the design, perfecting the jutsu's limitations had appealed to him. But he was focused on cloning Hashirama and recreating the wood release, anything else could wait.

Just who was this man?

"Who are you? I am afraid I do not help strangers with too much information."

His hands clenched at his sides and he released a harsh sigh. "Kakashi."

Sakumo's… son? But he was a child, no more than ten. Wanting a closer look, he flashed across the clearing, appearing directly in front of the man. He did not flinch.

His eyes were sunken, ringed with deep circles so dark they looked bruised. His father's silver hair was lank and unkempt, over abused by anxious hands. Silver stubble poked out from his mask and Orochimaru was quite sure it had been days since last he'd bathed.

But there was no doubt this was the son of the White Fang. Their eyes were exactly the same and the hair was a clan trait. But how was this man that boy?

"Time travel. Very interesting. I'm assuming you must have some idea of what I am capable of."

"I am well versed. And I know what you have hiding in your little snake pit but I don't give a fuck. I just need your help. Your experiments aren't my problem."

Definitely desperate. Broken.

"This jutsu requires a living sacrifice." He took a few steps around 'Kakashi.' He still did not flinch, his eyes the only part of him that moved—tracking Orochimaru as he circled him. "Are you sure you know what you are asking?"

"That won't be a problem." The man reached back to pat the scroll he carried. "I have everything you need."

Hm.

Well. He was more or less at a dead end with his current project. Maybe he'd dig out his notes on the jutsu and see if he could improve upon his last attempt. He could always kill this empty shell of a man if he became a problem. By the looks of him, he'd probably welcome it.

"How do I know this isn't a trap? Maybe Hiruzen sent you."

He scoffed. "I don't take orders from that bastard. He'll be here soon though. Three, maybe four months if memory serves. Might want to leave before then. Not that it matters. He couldn't kill you anyways."

Sentimental old fool. It would get him killed one day.

"Come with me, Kakashi."

Back in the bowels of his compound, Orochimaru pulled out his notes and the stolen jutsu scrolls. "I will require DNA from whomever it is you wish to revive. Do you have this?"

A shuddering breath, a curt nod. He pulled the scroll from his back, placing it carefully, lovingly on the floor and began to unroll it. So this was a lover then. How obvious.

Releasing the first seal on the storage scroll, a petite body wrapped in a white sheet appeared. Kakashi paused, his breathing clearly painful. "She… I put her in a stasis right away."

Indeed, when he pulled back the sheet, the young woman looked asleep. As if she had only just died. She was lovely, he supposed. Pink hair, the Hatake crest on the breast of her bloodied dress. On her forehead—

"That is Tsunade's seal." He frowned at his guest. "Who was she?"

Taking the lifeless hand in his, Kakashi answered, his voice thick. "My wife. She came back with me. She was… all I had left." He glanced back at Orochimaru, his eyes dull. "Tsunade was her sensei. It should have saved her. I've seen her survive… It was too fast…"

Orochimaru had seen Tsunade survive a great many horrific attacks too. In fact, he was not sure what could possibly actually kill her with the seal activated and leave her body intact.

"Very well. Your sacrifice?"

He stood and kicked the scroll open to reveal another storage seal. When he released it, another woman appeared. She was unconscious, chakra suppressing bindings secured her hands and legs. "Is this process painful for them?"

Orochimaru hummed thoughtfully, leaning in to inspect the second woman. "It is."

"Good."

He looked back at Kakashi, one brow arched in question.

"The bitch that killed her."

Hm. "I have to say, Kakashi, you are not what I would have expected. I know your father." He tutted, only a little condescending. "The White Fang would not approve."

He gave no answer, continuing to stare at his dead wife.

"Would she, I wonder?"

Orochimaru had to strain to hear his reply. "She died for me, but I can not live without her."

Maybe it was the seal on the dead woman's forehead, maybe it was the shattered man who loved her, but he was reminded of Tsunade again. When Dan was killed, everything good in Tsunade that had survived her brother's death, died too. The last time he'd seen her, she was a barely functioning alcoholic. But even if this jutsu had been an option at the time, he knew his former teammate would never have allowed it.

This man was not Tsunade.

Perhaps the similarities were why he felt like doing this.

Perhaps he was a sentimental fool.

"Let's begin."

With the other man's help, it took less than a half an hour to set up the jutsu. Once everything was ready, he produced a syringe filled with a stimulant to wake his hostage. He plunged it into her arm where she sat in the middle of the room. She woke with a jerk.

"You. Let me go you bastard!"

She continued on in that vein but Kakashi did not respond. She was restrained, shouting at them from where they had forced her to kneel. Taking just enough blood from the dead woman, Orochimaru smeared it on the jutsu scroll and the intricate seal spread out around the shouting woman.

Her shouts turned to screams as ash and dust slowly covered her body.

It was working.

The screaming was drowned out as her lungs filled, her face covered. And then…

The human shaped pile of ash collapsed, scattering across the floor in a rush.

Damn.

"What happened? Why didn't it work? Why—" His voice broke as he sank to his knees. "Sakura…"

He collapsed forward, sobbing, his hands dragging through the ash. "My Sakura, why didn't it work? Why didn't you come back to me?"

While what was left of his guests' sanity crumbled, Orochimaru stroked his chin in thought. This was only his second attempt at the Reanimation Jutsu, but he was positive he had made no mistakes. Perhaps… "Her soul is not in the Pure Lands."

Kakashi hadn't heard him.

Hm.

Orochimaru was now faced with a troublesome choice.

He doubted very much that once he collected himself—if he collected himself—his guest would be easy to get rid of. If he was willing to go to such lengths to retrieve his love, who knew what he was capable of. Perhaps he would demand they try again.

As diverting as that might be, Orochimaru didn't fancy wasting his time if her soul truly was unreachable.

Maybe with the right support, Kakashi could bury her and move on. Grieve and eventually be able to live again. Though he hardly called what Tsunade did, living.

But he had chosen to come to him and Orochimaru was not that sort of person. He definitely didn't care that much about this man or his dead woman.

The only real thing he could do was kill him.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a kunai from his hip pouch and knelt beside the still sobbing man. "Sometimes a soul gets trapped in limbo if they have something keeping them here." He yanked him up by the back of his hair, holding him up against his chest. Unsurprisingly, he didn't struggle, nearly limp in his arms. It was a little anticlimactic, but he slit his throat. "If I had to guess, she is waiting for you there."

He coughed and gasped, blood pouring from his throat, trickling from his mouth.

"You'll be together soon." His body jerked and spasmed and Orochimaru let him fall. With the last of his strength, he crawled to the corpse of his dead wife, collapsing beside her. His shaking hand reached for her face, blood smearing across her cheek.

It did not take him long to die.

Orochimaru stared down at them. They made a sickly beautiful tableau. His bloodied fingers tangled in her pink hair, his face resting against hers.

What to do with them.

If she had been trained by Tsunade, she could be a useful puppet. And he had no doubt that the genius son of the White Fang would have grown up to be a very powerful shinobi indeed. If she had been waiting for him, perhaps they would both go to the Pure Lands. He could summon them then.

No.

Perhaps it was the reminder of Tsunade and Dan.

Humans are so fragile.

He felt a rare flush of altruism.

Now he had three bodies to dispose of.

And a room full of ash to sweep up.

How troublesome.