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sumigakure · 6 years

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Well Then

To: @arrowsbane

From: @pwnie3

Title: Well Then

Rating: M

Wordcount: 8520

Prompt: In an AU where Orochimaru never took Danzo up on his offer for labs, Sarutobi dumps a trio of genetically-altered brats on him and hands him a ‘Teaching for Dummies’ book, which is not appreciated. Turns out, Orochimaru is pretty good with kids, but thinks he isn’t. Nobody else is buying that lie though.

Warning/Notes: I never thought I would have to tag a six-year-old for suicidal ideation but here I am. Friendly reminder that I love Kakashi and I wish my fingers didn’t know how to type independent of my will.

“Think about it,” Danzo says, then shunshins out of Orochimaru’s front garden.

The old man’s offer is tempting. A set of labs all to himself, all materials provided, not on paper anywhere. Sarutobi, ever Orochimaru’s moral compass in the absence of Jiraiya and Tsunade, has vetoed almost all of his ideas without even reading the full hypothesis. And he knows as well as Orochimaru does that if he had labs and materials, he would go ahead with his projects whether the Hokage gave him permission or not.

It’s one of the things Sakumo always said was the mark of a good shinobi– not following unjust orders, although he probably didn’t mean it to be used quite in this context.

Orochimaru traces the snake curled around his neck absently and his eyes remain fixed on the wall just to the side of where Danzo had been when he made the proposal two weeks ago. Sakumo, now three months dead by his own foolish, selfish hand, wouldn’t approve of this. Orochimaru may not know Danzo very well personally, but he knows enough about the man to figure out that the kind of experiments Danzo wants him to do won’t be the experiments Sakumo could be proud of.

When did this happen? When did he stop thinking in terms of what benefitted him and start using Sakumo’s approval as a benchmark for right and wrong?

There’s a knock on the door. Orochimaru snaps back to reality and gently reaches out with his chakra. He’s no sensor, he can’t track someone’s chakra footprint a hundred miles, but he can recognize a familiar signature ten feet away.

“Oro?” Kakashi’s voice is muffled, both by the door and his scarf. “You home?”

In a flash, Orochimaru opens the door. Kakashi is there, and judging by his clothes it’s a hot morning. His short sleeves show off the tattoos on his arms, and what’s visible of his face is flushed. Orochimaru makes a note to buy something thinner so Kakashi doesn’t pass out from the heat.

The boy doesn’t tell Orochimaru where he wants to go, but it’s easy enough to guess. Where else would he want to go with Orochimaru than Sakumo’s grave?

The majority of their walk to the cemetery is silent, punctuated only by a brief stop at a flower stand. Orochimaru picks spider lilies. Kakashi picks asters.

It is, perhaps, too late for Orochimaru to remember how terrible he is with children. When Sakumo was alive, it was easy to think of Kakashi as a small, grumpy version of his father, but with the man gone all Orochimaru can see is the five-year-old who’s lost his father.

Orochimaru clears his throat and hopes it doesn’t sound as awkward as he thinks it does. “How have you been, Kakashi?” It takes all of his willpower not to call him ‘Cub’, seeing as how, along with many other things in Kakashi’s life, the nickname likely died with Sakumo.

Kakashi makes a quiet noise. Orochimaru assumes it means something along the lines of ‘I’ve been okay’, as that has always been his answer to the question.

“How is your aunt?” Ah yes, the fifteen-year-old aunt Kakashi has been living with because Orochimaru doesn’t trust himself around children. “Is her team doing well?”

Kakashi grunts. “I guess. I think Mikoto is engaged now, but I’m not sure anyone else is supposed to know about that.”

With a faint sound of acknowledgement, Orochimaru files the information away. He can’t think of any occasion where the marital arrangements of the Uchiha clan will ever be of use, but intel is intel.

Just as the pair is about to enter the graveyard, there’s a shout from behind them. “Hey, Orochimaru!”

“That’s the guy Auntie has a crush on,” Kakashi supplies, murmuring. “Minato.”

Minato comes to a stop a respectful distance from Orochimaru. He pants a little from the exertion of, presumably, running around doing D-ranks all day. “Lord Sarutobi wants to talk to you.”

Orochimaru looks back at Kakashi, who’s eyeing Minato with something like scrutiny. “Is it urgent?” he asks like he doesn’t already know the answer.

Minato nods. Orochimaru is disappointed, no, angry. Angry at himself for not being able to put aside even this small amount of time for the boy who, for all his ineptitude, he loves with every ounce of his being.

Another glance at Kakashi. The boy shrugs. “It’s okay, Oro. I’ll be fine.”

He lays the bouquet of lilies in Kakashi’s arms with the asters. As Orochimaru is walking away, he hisses quietly at Minato. “If you wish to remain in Kushina’s good graces, you’ll keep an eye on Kakashi.”

Minato, who is most certainly recognizable as the ‘pretty boy’ Kushina referred to him as the last time Orochimaru found time to sit down with her, stands stock-straight and meets Orochimaru’s gaze– but only for a moment. Still, it’s better than most people manage. “Of course, Lord Yashagoro!” Then he runs over to walk behind Kakashi.

It takes little more than two minutes to get to the Hokage’s office, and inside Sarutobi has the audacity to be leaning back behind his desk and puffing on his pipe like he didn’t just take away precious time to be spent with the last part of Sakumo Orochimaru has.

Orochimaru stands in front of his old teacher and waits. After a few seconds, Sarutobi opens his eyes and sits up. “Ah, Orochimaru. I didn’t expect you here so soon. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?”

It’s been a long time since he wanted to punch something, as it’s never been his strong point, but in this moment there’s nothing he wants more than to break Sarutobi’s nose. Besides, why else would he have come in through the window, if not because he was annoyed? Even if it’s not Orochimaru’s preferred method of entry, it does happen to be one of Sarutobi’s biggest pet peeves.

“Of course not, sensei. Your messenger told me it was urgent?” Orochimaru asks, hiding his anger behind a thin smile.

“Not nearly as urgent as Minato made it out to be, but it is somewhat time sensitive.” Sarutobi pushes a file across his desk. “These are your new orders, effective tomorrow.”

Orochimaru takes the file and opens it, expecting some kind of long-term information gathering mission having to with the war effort, and his eyes widen when the papers enclosed are the ones given out to prospective jounin teachers.

“Sensei, is this–”

“I am not mistaken. That is the correct file. I am assigning three children to your tutelage and, if you’ll be willing, your care.”

The assignment hits Orochimaru like a fist to the face. “I’m not sure if you recall, sensei, but while I have many and impressive talents, handling children is not one of them.”

Sarutobi smiles. “Orochimaru, believe me when I tell you that you are uniquely suited to this team over any other mission I could offer you. Do you recall the organization Root?”

Why yes, in fact your long-time friend recently offered me a very nice position within that very organization. “Yes. You disbanded it when you took office.”

The smoke from Sarutobi’s pipe circles the ceiling. “We discovered Root to very much be alive and kicking last week, under the coordination of Danzo Shimura. After a raid on their various locations, we found four children in a lab there. One killed himself when we tried to remove him from the laboratory, but the other three are currently in rehabilitation in the hospital. They are being entrusted to you, as several experts have assured me that putting them into the Academy would be counterproductive.”

Briefly skimming the mission file, Orochimaru finds it giving him that exact information under about five more layers of official jargon and emotionlessness than Sarutobi normally uses during these briefings.

“Until further notice, you will be off the active duty roster. Your first and foremost priority is acclimatizing these children to life outside of a laboratory.” Orochimaru nods along with Sarutobi as he translates the purple prose of the file. “Oh, and you’ll probably need this.”

Without thinking, Orochimaru takes the thing his teacher passes him and when he looks at the title, in a move he must have learned from Sakumo because he’d never done it before they started dating, he absolutely bristles with fury.

Well, if there was one thing being best friends with Jiraiya has taught Orochimaru, it’s self-control, and it happens to take every last ounce of that carefully-honed control not to put Teaching for Dummies through Sarutobi’s skull.

Sarutobi, for all his old man-ish airs, is no fool and does not have the memory of a goldfish, so he must recognize the calm detachment in Orochimaru’s face as the kind of thing he used to wear just before Jiraiya became best friends with the business end of Kusanagi.

“Meet me back here tomorrow at eight. You are dismissed.”

Kakashi is already out with his team by the time Sarutobi releases Orochimaru to his own devices– Kakashi’s fourth team in as many months, if Orochimaru’s impeccable memory serves him correctly– so he returns to the graveyard alone.

As much as he loves the boy, Orochimaru is glad to have the opportunity to visit Sakumo’s grave alone, and something tells him that maybe Kakashi feels the same. The grass is pressed down tight against the ground in front of Sakumo’s uniform headstone, and a few yards back there’s another spot where the ground is just as disturbed. The flowers have been rested carefully below the deep lines that form Sakumo’s name.

Orochimaru sinks to his knees fluidly. “I had an important meeting yesterday. I wore the blue yukata, the one you always said compliments my eyes.”

It’s a common enough practice for shinobi to talk to their dead loved ones, even if not quite the healthiest. Any passing civilian won’t question Orochimaru talking to the departed quite as much as they’ll question his choice of Sakumo Hatake, and it’s not the kind of thing any coincidentally present ANBU will feel the need to report.

But Orochimaru’s reluctantly-assigned Yamanaka psychiatrist says it’s a good way to grieve (and while she doesn’t outright say ‘I know you’re still mourning the absence of Jiraiya and Tsunade’, he hears it all the same) and he knows that ANBU Panther has been told under no uncertain terms that he’s to make sure Orochimaru talks to Sakumo a little bit. Though as with all things unfamiliar, the Snake Sannin takes to it with a fair bit of caution.

“Sarutobi has assigned me a group of children to train.” He shakes his head. “I suppose my only relief in this is that Jiraiya isn’t here to see it.” A pause, the kind he used to leave for Sakumo to say his piece. “It’s summer now, he’s been gone nearly nine months.”

Orochimaru has never believed that the dead linger, but when he closes his eyes he’s willing to pretend the wind playing with his hair is a tanned, scarred, calloused hand with the most gentle touch in the world.

He stands and brushes a few blades of grass from his clothing. He walks home in silence.

When Orochimaru sits down in his kitchen with a cup of tea in hand, he finally looks over the file Sarutobi gave him.

The first student, Akira Senju, age eleven, was kidnapped when small and her eyes were replaced with a set of stolen Sharingan. She was then pumped full of bijuu chakra siphoned off Lady Mito Uzumaki to see if the Sharingan could control bijuu as easily from within as well as without.

Orochimaru’s second pupil, Akane Uchiha, age twelve, is a half Inuzuka who was tattooed with some beautifully– the report on her doesn’t say it quite like that, but art is art no matter the canvas– elaborate seals that, according to the file, give her the ability to use the Mokuton.

The final child is Hikaru, age eight, was grown in a surrogate, and is the finest example of what happens when an Uchiha member of Root and a Senju member of Root both give over DNA for identification purposes and the DNA is instead used to make a baby. Heavily tested, very intelligent, not very emotionally stable, the boy is implied to be the “problem child” of the three.

Orochimaru puts down the file. From what he can tell, both the people giving the order and the researchers who worked on these children were clumsy. It seems like multiple, independent projects were being run of each child without regard for how the effects of the other experiments would skew their results. What’s Tsunade’s favorite saying? Too many cooks in the kitchen?

What’s done though, is done, and Orochimaru can’t do a thing to remedy the errors of fools. He stands from his chair.

The house is older than even Orochimaru’s parents, and it takes ridiculous effort to keep it in good condition, but if it has anything going for it then it has to be its sheer size. The Yashagoro clan has never been large, definitely not large enough to warrant a house so big, and for the last twenty years Orochimaru has lived here alone. He has no wandering relatives who drop in on a whim to see how well he’s grown up, no drunk friends taking over his house at ungodly hours, no quiet bedmates who wake him up with fluttering kisses and a laugh like rolling thunder. Not anymore.

There are spare futons tucked away in a closet, and while it’s hardly the kind of thing his mother would approve of using his abilities for, Orochimaru is pressed for time and hardly hesitates in using– this is the kind of play on words both his father and Jiraiya would find amusing– a fuuton jutsu to air out the bedding. Perhaps, if Sarutobi doesn’t come to his senses and reassign the children, Orochimaru will find sturdier, more permanent bedframes for them.

He doesn’t sleep. Instead, he wanders the many halls of the house and tries to memorize the silence, the solitude, the way this is the one place where he lets his footsteps echo into the night. He listens for the faint memory of his father’s laugh, his mother’s admonishments, and his old grandmother’s refusal to avoid the nightingale floors when she wandered in the middle of the night.

He wonders if these children will know any better.

Orochimaru shows up early to his old teacher’s office, and is not disappointed. Sarutobi is already waiting for him, sharing a cup of tea with three children who probably shouldn’t be as small as they are.

“Ah, Orochimaru!” Sarutobi exclaims. The three children turn around sharply, even the tiny little boy.

The files hadn’t included photographs. There hadn’t been time to get the photographer out to see them, nor would he have had clearance to do so if he’d tried. But aside from the activated Sharingan, the extensive tattoos, and the multitude of poorly-hidden scars, the children don’t look like anything special. The Senju girl looks like how he would expect a little Senju girl to look. The Uchiha-Inuzuka girl looks like how he would expect an Uchiha-Inuzuka to look. The Senju-Uchiha boy looks like how he would expect a Senju-Uchiha to look.

This is good, he thinks. The tattoos and scars are normal enough, not the kind of thing most people would glance twice at. The Sharingan will be easily hidden. At least they won’t have to grow up with the look of a half-dead pixie with too much purple eyeliner and a frankly unrealistically dark head of hair and all the stares that come with.

“These are your students,” Sarutobi continues. “Akira, Akane, and Hikaru. Children, this is to be your guardian.”

The half-Inuzuka girl, Akane, stands. The other two follow her lead. Though Orochimaru knows that these children have been kept apart until now, as per ANBU policy about test subjects, they have easily fallen into something like a pack formation with Akane at the head.

Orochimaru bows his head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Akane for a second. After a long pause, she does it back. Again, Akira and Hikaru follow her lead.

Sarutobi looks between the four of them and nods. “It seems my work here is done. Orochimaru, I’ll be by later with some paperwork.”

He takes this to mean that he’s been dismissed, and so Orochimaru gestures for the children to follow him. The whole way back to his house– on foot, using the not-yet-crowded streets to travel because he hardly remembers trusting himself on rooftops when he was their age and most certainly won’t put that faith in three strangers– they trail behind him at a respectful and regular distance. Though they haven’t spoken a word to each other, the three of them instinctively fell into a standard, if rough, team formation. Akira is at the center, keeping a careful eye on Orochimaru, and on either side she is flanked by Akane and Hikaru in some kind of bodyguard position.

The first two steps inside Orochimaru’s home are nightingale flooring, and while he treads lightly and with a certain kind of speed born of practice and watching snakes go across the boards silently, the children don’t know the house. As soon as Hikaru hears the first tremulous chirp of the floorboards, he jumps back and pulls the girls with him.

“Come now. It’s just a noise the floors make. Nothing to be scared of,” Orochimaru says in what he hopes is a teasing voice. “They’re not going to hurt you any more than the grass out there will.” Though, thinking about it, the grass (or rather, what the grass hides) will actually hurt them more than the floors.

Eventually, Orochimaru gets them into the kitchen, and only then does it occur to him that he only owns one chair and his table is too small for four people. He also owns a meager set of dishes that can only hold enough food for one, maybe two people if they have appetites as small as Orochimaru and Kakashi (how old is the food in his fridge? And come to think of it, is bread supposed to be blue-grey?). Well, those bowls are probably small enough to count as cups, right?

“Perhaps,” Orochimaru starts slowly, “a trip to the market is in order.”

Orochimaru hasn��t been a child in a long time, so he doesn’t know what they like to eat. When he went out shopping with Sakumo, it always fell to Orochimaru to keep Kakashi occupied, and thus he was never really sure of what Sakumo bought for Kakashi– not to mention that Kakashi is significantly younger than Orochimaru’s students and also likely has very different preferences.

Orochimaru himself is a simple man. He buys spices when he runs out and a dozen eggs every week, ham when he can get it, and everything else comes from his mother’s garden. His parents raised him to eat what was put in front of him without complaint and that mostly carried over into his adult life.

So what do children like to eat?

“What would you like?” he asks them. All three heads jerk towards him simultaneously. “To eat.”

For a long moment, there’s silence from the three of them, but then it’s Akira who answers first. “One of the researchers in charge of me used to bring dango when I was cooperative.”

“One time someone brought me pretzels,” Akane says.

“They let me have strawberries once.” Hikaru rounds out the bunch.

The bakery sells five kinds of pretzels and strawberries are in season, and by the time the four of them make it to the dango shop Hikaru has eaten almost half the container and Orochimaru has reminded him three times that eating the strawberry hulls isn’t something people generally do.

As soon as they enter the shop– which is abuzz with people as always, seeing as how Shouta Mitarashi makes the best dango in the village and everyone knows it– the place hushes significantly. Civilians are always put off by Orochimaru’s presence no matter where he goes, and while it’s a trifling matter to be invisible in a crowded marketplace that same innocuity becomes impossible in a small, enclosed space.

Akira, Akane, and Hikaru fall into battle stance at the attention. Their shoulders square, their limbs relax, and Akane has two fingers on the kunai in her belt. Orochimaru says nothing; he just strides forward– the crowd shies away from him like he’s diseased– picks up a few boxes of sweets, and hands the money over to the owner without speaking a word.

He, and the children too, are silent the whole way home. They do not step on the nightingale floors a second time.

His three students eat their food quietly, and Orochimaru makes himself a pot of tea. When he has finished his first cup, he speaks.

“The first thing you will learn in this village is that no-one is going to be kind to you. I do not know what conditions you were in before or how they treated you there, but it will be different and worse out here. You will be feared, and that fear manifests as anger, and you may have to deal with the outlet of that anger. Strangers will hate you for no other reason than your association with me. If you wish for me to find you a different caretaker, tell me and I will do so.”

Akane crunches on another pretzel. Hikaru carefully separates the hull from the rest of his strawberry and sets it on a paper towel. Akira puts a whole skewer’s worth of dango in her mouth at once. They say nothing.

Orochimaru pours himself a second cup of tea. “Very well then,” he sighs. “It is my job to teach you how to interact with other people. I will not be lenient with your training. Starting tomorrow, you will wake at dawn and training will last until I say it stops. Do you understand?”

They nod, and if Orochimaru has the barest hint of a smile on his face, then no-one has to know.

The next morning, though waking the children by way of snake messenger was fun and he’ll never let himself forget Akira’s screams, Orochimaru faces a certain problem. After watching the children make a mess of training ground 6, he decides to pit them against each other and quickly finds that watching Akane and Akira go at it is something like how he imagines a timid Tsunade would approach Jiraiya if Jiraiya didn’t know how to control his temper and also thought he could take on Tsunade at full strength.

In short, it’s giving him a headache.

Akira has a certain kind of inhuman strength that tends to show itself in anyone with more than a drop of Uzumaki blood, and Orochimaru is quickly realizing that there’s no way she’s not at least one quarter Uzumaki– maybe it’s a byproduct of Lady Mito’s jinchuuriki chakra?– but the Senju in her negates the red hot Uzumaki blood in her.

Similarly, Akane has exactly the temper Orochimaru would expect from the offspring produced by an Uchiha and an Inuzuka and the control over her anger to match. Like most Uchiha her age she has all the musculature of a finely-carved twig, but more than enough dramatics to make up for it.

“Come on, I can take it!” Akane shouts from the proper battle stance Orochimaru just corrected her on. “Come at me already!”

Akira looks to Orochimaru with something he thinks is a question on her face. He nods minutely at her. “But…” she trails off.

The other girl makes a very loud, very frustrated noise that only reinforces Orochimaru’s belief that Jiraiya is dead and his soul now exists in the body of a twelve-year-old girl. “Come on!”

Akira flexes her hands and curls them into fists. She pulls back one arm, then throws an undercut–

Which connects just under Akane’s ribs and throws her against a tree twenty feet away. She collides with a sickening crunch which sounds suspiciously like bones breaking and it takes everything in Orochimaru’s power not to flinch at it.

Ah yes. Definitely reminiscent of Jiraiya and Tsunade’s earliest interactions.

Hikaru crunches down on a strawberry flavored biscuit stick louder than necessary and shoots Orochimaru a look he can catch out of the corner of his eye. With a sigh, Orochimaru stands and walks over to check on Akane.

She coughs, then lets out a long, painful groan. “Sensei, am I dead?” She whines.

He hums. “Not yet.”

“Can you make me dead?”

To his own surprise, Orochimaru laughs. It’s small, barely more than a chuckle, but it’s there and it surprises Akane just as much as it does Orochimaru himself. “Only if you want me to.”

For two full seconds, she’s quiet, then she reaches up with one arm and lets slip a thready “please”.

The next morning, if it can even be called that yet, Orochimaru wakes to the incessant tapping on his window. The hawk sitting on his sill has a message tied to it’s leg. He lets the bird in and takes the scroll from the leather tube, letting the hawk back out as soon as he does.

It’s a summons for tea from the Hokage. Orochimaru huffs out a breath and briefly considers whether or not he could get away with killing Sarutobi, and when he figures that now probably isn’t the best time to contemplate murder he decides to just get ready for the day. He sets out breakfast for the children– all three still asleep in their rooms– and sets one of his summons by each bedside to keep watch.

Sarutobi is waiting for him in his office with a pot of Orochimaru’s favorite tea already sitting out. It burns Orochimaru in places he can’t describe to think that after ignoring him for so long and then dumping three children even more socially stunted than Orochimaru himself, all Sarutobi can do is set out tea and play

“Ah, Orochimaru. Sit down, I’m glad–”

Orochimaru does not sit. “Spare me your pleasantries. Why have I been summoned here?”

Sarutobi sets down his cup with a sigh. “How are the children?”

“They are making progress. Considering how long I’ve had them, they’ve adjusted well, though I’m certain that they would do better under a different teacher who knows better how to deal with children. Given time, I believe they will become a strong team for almost any kind of mission.”

The Hokage nods. “Very well. If there is nothing else to discuss…” he trails off to give Orochimaru space to say something more. When he doesn’t, Sarutobi continues. “Then I believe you are dismissed.”

Orochimaru leaves.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Sarutobi looks down at the reports on his desk from Panther and Bear.

Subject’s methods are unorthodox, but effective. Advise that the team remain in his care and assign the Subject a second team upon current team’s graduation.

Subject interacts well with charges. Likely extenuating circumstances contributing to camaraderie. Advise not to assign a second team to the Subject.

Fox drops down from the rafters silently. “Sounds like he doesn’t know himself too well, huh?” she says.

Sarutobi steeples his fingers. “Perhaps it is because he knows himself too well, and it is blinding him to his own strengths.”

“Perhaps it is because he’s never had to interact with children.” Crow quips.

Goose hesitates. “…Perhaps it’s because no-one has ever trusted him with children before.”

“Sakumo did,” Fox mumbles after a moment. “Sakumo trusted him and Kakashi loves Orochimaru to death.”

“I think we can all agree that Sakumo Hatake is a special case in many respects, and his son follows closely in his footsteps,” Sarutobi says. “But in this, I too will follow Sakumo. Orochimaru is better with those children than he thinks he is.”

Crow hums, disinterested. ‘They day Orochimaru realizes that children follow him like lost puppies is the day I retire.”

Hikaru, Orochimaru finds, is like Kakashi. He rarely smiles, but when he does it’s all the more precious for it. He likes to disappear at odd hours, but can always be found napping peacefully in the grass by the Naka with empty cartons of fresh fruit stacked neatly next to his head.

Akane is happiest when curled up by a window on a rainy day. She prefers hot tea and a thick blanket and a good book over training in the cold any day, and every last one of Orochimaru’s summons agrees with her (he finds them sleeping once, in front of the fireplace and curled close under the blanket to Akane, though to protect her or for her body heat is unclear). But on the hot days where the sun is too bright to look at she can’t be pulled away from the fields for anything.

Akira is the outlier. She wants to be good, wants to be better. She has bright ambitions but hardly has the means to do so. She trains with Kakashi, who outstrips her in talent at every turn but is no match for her spirit. She is the one who asks to learn the obscure jutsus, the one who practices seals a thousand times before even trying to pump the chakra through them.

They have been in Orochimaru’s care for five months, and have not mentioned leaving once.

He finds himself stopping by the dango shop every three days, it seems, and the longer he shows up regularly the wider Mitarashi smiles at him. He has a regular order and everything. More and more, Mitarashi’s little daughter Anko– who can’t be much more than three years old, but Orochimaru’s never been good at pinpointing the ages of children– decides to talks to him about his day. In twelve years or so, she’ll be an excellent saleswoman if she doesn’t follow through with her interest in the poisonous flowers Hikaru likes to braid into Orochimaru’s hair.

It’s not just Mitarashi and his daughter that have taken a shining to Orochimaru. Vendors in the marketplace have gotten increasingly familiar with his larger purchases of meat, bread, and most importantly, fresh fruit, romance novels, and pretty yet practical clothing for a six feet tall fourteen-year-old girl.

It all comes to a head the day jounin start coming to him to ask if their teams can train together. The first one, Sabe Tachibana, is a large man, taller than Akira and twice as broad, who looks like he could crush Orochimaru’s head between two fingers if given the chance.

“My team is made up of three strong-willed boys that just graduated from the Academy on their first try,” he says. “They think they’re all that and a bag of sealing scrolls. I think they need to be put in their place before I can teach them anything, but for the life of me, I can’t get them to listen. They’ve been like this for all three weeks since graduation.”

Orochimaru smirks. “Oh, don’t worry, Tachibana. They’ll be at your beck and call before tomorrow is done.”

He pretends that he doesn’t notice the five other jounin watching the inter-team practice, where all three of Tachibana’s genin show up late while complaining loudly about the hour and not giving one whit of attention to the other team on the training field.

“Sensei, are those girls?” one of them asks, his tone about as demeaning as it can get. “I thought you said we’re gonna train with the best genin team in the village, not that you wanted to get in their teacher’s pants.”

“And we are, Koushi. This is the best genin team in the village,” Tachibana responds evenly. He doesn’t acknowledge the boy’s second statement.

Orochimaru makes sure his hair swishes as he turns to face the three boys and hopes he looks more male and less androgynous than usual today. “And I thought I was pitting my team against worthy opponents. I look forward to you trying to prove me wrong.”

Tachibana gently resumes control of the conversation. He gestures to Orochimaru. “Boys, this is Orochimaru Yashagoro. He’s got the finest first-year genin I’ve seen in a long time, so keep your guard up.”

“Don’t go too hard on them, you three. Leave at least some of their dignity intact,’ Orochimaru instructs as he turns to his team.

One of the boys scoffs. “Like we need them to. What harm can two girls and a baby do to us?”

Orochimaru sees the immediate shift in the way Akane, Akira, and Hikaru are assessing the situation.

“Sensei, are you sure we have to hold back?” Akane asks, sickeningly sweet. “I would hate for them to think we’re not giving our all.”

“Dignity is useless. All that matters is skill. If they have it, then we don’t need to go easy.” Hikaru looks up at Orochimaru. “Right, sensei?”

At Tachibana’s direction, the two teams settle themselves at opposite ends of the training field. Orochimaru’s team falls easily into battle formation and move away from each other. From his place at one edge of the field, Orochimaru can see Hikaru reaffirm his grip on the hilt of his sword, Akira flex her fists, and Akane finger a tagged kunai. Conversely, Tachibana’s boys are too relaxed and hold their kunai like toys– and they’re all only wielding kunai.

“It’s a miracle they graduated, with form like that,” Orochimaru mumbles to his fellow teacher. “What kind of test did you give them?”

“I put an apple on my head and had them throw kunai at me to get it off.”

“Were you at least moving?”

Tachibana’s flush is answer enough. He clears his throat. “You fight until incapacitation or surrender. On my mark!” he shouts, raising one hand. The instant his arm drops, the three boys are off towards Orochimaru’s stationary team.

The first one to get in range is closest to Akira. She throws a punch. The instant it connects, the boy realizes his mistake, but by then it’s too late. He flies fifty feet before he hits the ground and then skids another ten before coming to a stop.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Sorry!” she calls after him.

The second one thinks it’s a good idea to go after Akane, who is, admittedly, tiny for her age and looks like an easy target. But the moment he steps into a three-meter radius, he freezes in place and all Akane has to do is walk up to him and push him over.

The third is perhaps the most foolish, because under any circumstances it’s a bad idea to approach a child holding a sword, but Hikaru is especially dangerous. It takes all of a second for Hikaru to strike out with his lead hand, drawing a thin red line across his opponent’s face and sending strands of his hair fluttering to the ground. The boy’s hand shoots up to cradle his cheek, but before he can even get it high enough Hikaru drops down low and sweeps the boy’s legs out from under him.

His head meets the hard-packed earth with a crack. With that, Tachibana steps out onto the field and ends the match.

“I hope that you remember this day as the day you got your collective asses beat by two girls and a baby. Got it?” Akane sneers. “And next time you assume our teacher needs to use his team to get access to dick, I’ll make sure you won’t have to worry about yours anymore.”

Other fresh jounin teachers almost start lining up with their teams.

The childrens’ first mission is small. He gives the missions room a collective heart attack when he enters and requests a C-rank with his team in tow. They must strike quite the image, he thinks. The Hidden Leaf’s own double-edged sword, accompanied by the unholy offspring of an Uchiha and an Inuzuka, an eight-year-old who carries himself like the most weathered of jounin, and an otherwise nondescript girl with brown hair and a set of blazing Sharingan.

The terrified chuunin behind the deck passes Orochimaru an assignment for a message run to the Fire Country capital.

“We have hawks for messages,” Hikaru states, but in the month since he came into Orochimaru’s care he’s learned to read between the lines with Hikaru.

“A hawk is faster than most shinobi, that’s true. But hawks are easier to intercept than we are. If time is of the essence, the village will send a hawk. When security is valued over speed, they send shinobi,” Orochimaru says.

Two steps out of the gate, Akane trips over thin air and nearly sprains her ankle. This is the worst injury of the mission.

Orochimaru himself has been to the capital a scant few times, and the children have never left Konoha’s walls so while it’s always a treat for the Snake Sannin to see the city it’s nothing quite like the identical look of amazement that crosses all three of his charges’ faces.

The buildings in the capital are by far taller than anything in Konoha but the trees, of which there are few here. The marketplaces are more bountiful, full of all manner of things that just don’t make it to Konoha in large enough quantities– expensive teas imported from across the sea, delicate sheer fabrics that have no place in a shinobi village, household items imbued with seals that draw chakra from the environment to cook food faster or heat beds in the winter. The fresh flowers Konoha prides herself on can’t be found so easily here, replaced commonly by shining metal or fine Suna-blown glass replicas. The sturdy weapons the children know from their home are almost nonexistent, though Orochimaru does know where to get them if the need arises. Instead, tiny shops sell decorative knockoffs that won’t hold up for half a second in the field but look nice and shiny hanging on a wall.

“Can we come back someday?” Akira asks, once they’ve delivered their message and set off back to Konoha. She has three new shawls and a set of beautiful emerald jewelry in her bag, among other baubles.

“I certainly hope so!” the other girl exclaims. Akane’s found no less than five Uzushio fuuinjutsu scrolls sitting in a secondhand store and paid less than a quarter of what they’re worth.

Orochimaru smiles despite himself, looking at Hikaru. The boy is happily munching on some blackberries and has more cartons of fruit sealed away than Orochimaru cares to count.

“I don’t see why not.”

The next time Orochimaru has the opportunity to see Kakashi is on the boy’s birthday. He is six, and after the small celebration at Kushina’s apartment– complete with gifts Hikaru, Akane, and Akira had bought in the capital, because after their first meeting with the younger boy they had all become rather attached– Orochimaru takes Kakashi to visit Sakumo’s grave.

It’s not something he would ever do with his team, simply because they wouldn’t know the significance of it and he’s not in the mood to explain why his single best bonding activity with his kind of stepson is visiting Orochimaru’s ex-boyfriend’s grave.

Dust has formed on the headstone, so Orochimaru carefully brushes it away with one blessedly pale grey sleeve before setting down the bouquet he brought today. Orochimaru’s yellow camellias look nice with Kakashi’s white roses, and they look even prettier against the grey stone.

Neither one of them says anything until halfway back to Kushina and Mikoto’s apartment.

“I miss him,” Kakashi says, his voice painfully small and muffled by the mask Orochimaru just gave him. “Sometimes I wish he took me with him.”

Orochimaru’s blood runs cold. His heart stops beating for several seconds. His mouth is hanging open, and when he gathers the brainpower to realize he isn’t breathing, his next inhale shudders in his throat. Before he knows what he’s doing, Orochimaru drops to his knees and pulls the boy to him. There are tears leaking from his face into Kakashi’s silver hair.

He can’t say he hasn’t had the same thought. He wasn’t much younger than Kakashi when he lost his own parents, and both when they died– his father from sickness while his mother was on a mission she never came back from– and only a few months ago when Sakumo took his own life, the same idea plagued his every waking moment. Why didn’t I die from the epidemic too? Why didn’t Sakumo kill me as well as, instead of, himself?

“Kakashi, I’m sorry,” Orochimaru whispers. “I’m sorry the world had made you think that way.”

He remembers being six and being left alone in that big dark house because there was no-one to care for him. He remembers being thirty-one and watching as Kakashi was left alone in his own big dark house because his clan laws– the precious clan laws the village had to accommodate for fear of clans rioting– wouldn’t allow anyone outside his clan to do it. He remembers going to visit Kakashi every day for a month and getting turned away by ANBU at the door every single time until Kakashi finally told Orochimaru to stop coming.

Kakashi’s hands clench in Orochimaru’s hair. “Sometimes I wish I had died with Mom.” He’s quiet for a few moments. “You told me once that Dad killed himself because he was ashamed of how his choices were affecting me. So he would still be alive if I had died in the Massacre, right?”

Orochimaru had told Kakashi that about Sakumo so that he wouldn’t think that Sakumo hadn’t loved his son. What possessed the gods to twist Kakashi’s mind to misinterpret it so badly?

“Oh cub, I never meant for you to take it like that. I miss him too, but I never, ever wanted you to think like that.

“What your father did was foolish and wrong, and every day I wish that someone had been there to talk some sense into him. I wish that I hadn’t been out of the village that day. I was too kind the last time I spoke of your father. He thought that by taking himself out of the equation, the village wouldn’t project their hate elsewhere and that you wouldn’t be affected. In his haste to right what the village perceived as wrongs, he forgot that he was all you had. His actions were selfish and shallow, no matter how honorable his intentions happened to be. Don’t let yourself be dragged down by the choices of kind-hearted fools.”

Kakashi sniffs, then pulls away and wipes his eyes with one overly long sleeve. “Okay. That means to stop listening to Aunt Kushina then, right?”

Orochimaru chuckles low in his chest and ruffles Kakashi’s hair. “Don’t you go twisting my words, little one.”

“Then don’t give me words to twist,” the boy shoots back, a gentle smile in his tone. Orochimaru is sorry he can’t see it.

As with all things, it comes crashing down around his ears eventually.

It is either late at night or early in the morning depending on which child Orochimaru asks for the time, and all four of them have been summoned to the Hokage’s office.

“You asked for us, sensei.” Orochimaru states as he rises from the crouch he landed in. His children straighten up too behind him.

“Danzo has escaped captivity,” Sarutobi says. It’s unlike him to be so short, to use four words where he could make it boring with twenty. “I am confident in both your abilities and those of your team, but until Danzo is captured I am placing ANBU outside your house. It is likely he will come after the children and try to leave the village with them.”

Behind him, the air goes deathly still, and for one horrifying moment Orochimaru thinks that the children have scattered just from hearing Danzo’s name. If any of the reports he’s read– many of which he didn’t technically have permission to know about– are true, it’s a wonder they didn’t run for the hills.

“You are dismissed. ANBU Crow, Fox, and Goose will meet you at your home.” Sarutobi goes silent, looking down into his telescope jutsu’d crystal ball. Orochimaru stiffens at the names.

“Sensei, is there any significance to those three ANBU being assigned to our case?” Hikaru asks halfway back to the house in his attempt to break the tense silence– something he’s gotten better at in the past months.

Orochimaru nods gravely. “ANBU Crow, Fox, and Goose are the Hokage’s personal guards. That he’s reassigning them means Danzo is more dangerous now than he was before.”

“What was lesson fifty-one again? A desperate man is a dangerous man?” Akira supplies.

“And a dangerous, desperate man is a cornered man and cornered man is unpredictable,” Akane finishes, uncharacteristically somber.

“Sarutobi-sensei never told us stories about Danzo from his youth, but I think we all know there’s a reason why he of all people was the leader of Root. Be cautious,” Orochimaru warns. He feels like he’s being watched and he hates nothing more than being watched.

The instant he sets foot on the property, a shiver runs down his spine and he drops lower to the ground. He draws Kusanagi from its sheath. When he enters the house, he does it slowly and deliberately. The children follow his footsteps exactly.

The nightingale floor shrieks. Instantly, Orochimaru extends an arm and pulls his children behind him and brandishes Kusanagi.

Danzo looks worse for wear, like he’s probably been tortured. Whoever helped him escape T&I– because there’s no way he got out on his own, not on Itsue Morino’s watch– must have had some kind of medical knowledge, because the aging man’s injuries look half-healed.

“Don’t cause a fuss now, Orochimaru. Just give me the experiments and I’ll disappear,” Danzo says, just as calmly as if he was ordering lunch, but there’s a low hum of killer intent in the air. “This doesn’t have to be messy.”

Orochimaru bristles and bares his teeth. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s killer intent, and Danzo just doesn’t have the same dark, oily chakra that makes people shiver when they face Orochimaru on the battlefield. “Over my dead body.”

The elder scowls, but he draws a bloodied kunai from one tattered sleeve and leaps forward.

Orochimaru catches the blade with his own, and it doesn’t take much to force Danzo back. He may be older and more experienced, and the chuunin guarding his cell may have been weak, but Danzo’s been atrophying in a cell for six months while Orochimaru’s been training three energetic kids in how to fight and kill.

“I will be dead and buried before you lay another finger on my children. Do you hear me, Shimura?” Orochimaru snarls. He parries away the kunai again. “But don’t you worry–” a quick slice and a dull thump– “you’ll be gone before you get the chance.”

It’s a gentler death than a man like Danzo Shimura deserves, but Orochimaru is in no mood to play with delusional old men. He has no energy to call the Hokage and tell him of events. But if the three ANBU arrive not two minutes later and find nothing of the old man, well Orochimaru can’t control his snakes all the time. They are among the more fickle of summons, after all.

As if to show just how shitty his life is, Jiraiya gets mugged a scant two miles from Konoha.

He’s been away for three years, and before he can get home to his favorite bath house– full of his favorite patrons who he used to swear could smell him coming from a mile away and still hit him dead-on with their shoes– he gets jumped. And not just jumped, but jumped by three kids.

That’s it. He’s done. He just flops down on his face and pretends to be dead. Maybe all they’ll take is his money.

But the kids climb off him and don’t even go rummaging through his things.

“Are you sure this is him, Hika?” says a decidedly female voice. “Because he doesn’t exactly strike me as Sannin material.”

“Yes. He matches the photograph in the Hokage’s office perfectly,” a child replies. “I would also like to make you aware that I am hurt by you questioning the information I gave you.”

A second girl groans. “Hikaru, when Dad told you to be more apparent with your feelings this isn’t what he meant.”

“If Dad was displeased with my actions he would tell me so himself,” the child says.

“He didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” the first girl speaks again. “He knows you’ve been working hard at opening up to other people and just because Akane can’t appreciate that doesn’t mean that the rest of us can’t.”

“Thank you, Akira,” Hikaru says with a smile in his voice.

“Can we get back to the old geezer on the ground? I think he might be dead.” Akane’s voice is closer now. Did she kneel?

“You’re the medic. And I should remind you that if you call this man an old geezer, you’re saying the same of Dad,” Hikaru snarks.

Akane snarls again. “I swear to every god above and below, Hikaru, if you don’t shut up–”

“Children!” comes a harsh cry. A harsh cry that Jiraiya recognizes. His head jerks up and one of the three– Akane, probably– trips backward and falls.

“Hikaru, Akane, Akira, what are you doing?” Orochimaru demands, his hands firmly placed on his hips.

The taller girl stands stock-straight and seems to shrink under Orochimaru’s piercing golden gaze. “Nothing, Dad.”

He rounds on the other two. “Hikaru? Akane?”

Akane points an accusing finger at the ten-ish-year-old next to her. “It was his idea.”

Orochimaru hums. “Was it now?”

“I heard through secure channels that the Sannin Jiraiya would be returning to the village via this path today and, given the emotional shambles you were reportedly left in when he disappeared in Ame three years ago we decided to wait for him and make sure he wouldn’t hurt you again,” Hikaru rattles off. “Was this not appropriate?” For a moment, Orochimaru says nothing and Jiraiya prays for the kid’s safe passage into the Pure Lands. Then, he huffs out a sigh and smiles.

“Go home, all three of you. We’ll talk later.” The children– though two of them look to be fifteen and up– make off towards the village, Akane muttering about stupid gossipy gate guards with the wrong loyalties. Once they’re out of sight, Orochimaru looks to Jiraiya and his smile wanes. “So you’re back.”

“So you have kids,” Jiraiya retorts as he stands. “Who decided to give you kids? I haven’t been gone that long.”

Orochimaru extends one arm towards the village. “A lot has happened. I’ll explain on the way to tea.”

If you enjoyed this piece, why not take a look at other pieces written by the same author on AO3.

#rated: M #Sumigakure Winter Wishes 2017 #rank: a #submission #sumigakure #pwnie3

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