The insufferable smirk Orochimaru had been wearing twisted down into something sharper. A snarl of pure, unadulterated shock. Not quite full venom yet, but getting there. The edges of his lips pulled tight, his yellowed eyes narrowing into slits.
My own smile stretched wider. "Are you alright, Orochimaru-sama?" Well that was just twisting the knife but I couldn't help it. It was satisfying. Truly, deeply satisfying. Like watching a cat that had been toying with a mouse suddenly realize the mouse had teeth.
"What—" Orochimaru's voice came out strained, rougher than I'd ever heard it. He shifted, trying to pull his hand back from the scroll, but his fingers stayed locked in place like they'd been nailed there. "Eishin-kun….. may I ask what is this? What have you done?"
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I glanced past him at the three massive snakes coiled in the shadows of Ryūchi Cave. They watched with unblinking eyes, tongues flicking out lazily to taste the air. But none of them moved. Their bodies stayed draped across the wet stone like oversized garden hoses someone had forgotten to put away.
I doubted they'd intervene. Snakes weren't exactly known for their heartfelt loyalty. These old bastards were big and dumb. Good for making unnecessary destruction when explicitly told to, but otherwise about as useful as tits on a boar. Point them at something, and they'd smash it. Ask them to think, and you'd get a blank stare and maybe a halfhearted attempt to eat you.
I looked back down at the kneeling legend. Slowly, barely noticiable but his skin was graying by the moment, sagging off his high cheekbones like melting wax.
"Me? I haven't done anything," I said, blinking wide eyes. I poured on the innocence thick enough to drown a pancake. "You're the one holding the brush, Professor."
Orochimaru's eyes snapped to mine, and fuck, they were terrifying. Pupils so thin they nearly disappeared, the yellow irises glowing with cold fury. The kind of look that said I will dissect you while you're still breathing and take notes on how long you scream.
A killing intent from a legendary shinobi... it thrilled me.
It meant I'd gotten one over on him. It meant he was off-balance. It meant I was winning.
"Alright, alright," I raised both hands quickly, palms out in a pacifying gesture that fooled exactly no one. "Maybe….. maybe I had skipped a step. My bad." I gave him my most apologetic smile—the one that wasn't apologetic at all. "I just figured a man of your... legendary caliber... wouldn't need the full introduction and warning before signing. I mean, you're Orochimaru. The Orochimaru. Legendary Sannin. I assumed I would have just bored you or, heavens forbid, offended your intelligence if I offered you the genin treatment." I shrugged. "Guess I gave you too much credit."
Orochimaru's gaze dropped back to the scroll. He tried to lift his hand from the scroll. The tendons in his neck strained, popping against the paper-thin skin of his throat. His fingers twitched, but they didn't leave the paper. The brush remained glued to the parchment.
"Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you." I chided, wagging a finger. "You might hurt yourself if you keep yanking like that. Could tear a ligament. Pop a joint. Very unsexy." I paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to sting. "It won't work anyway, you can only stop after you've fully signed your name. Or..." I let the word hang. "...died."
Orochimaru went still. Completely still. Then, slowly, the tension drained from his arm. He stopped fighting. His hand relaxed against the scroll.
He looked at me again, and this time, he smiled. Soft. Gentle. The kind of smile a kindly grandfather might give a confused child.
It was horrifying. More than his killing intent.
"Eishin-kun…." he said, voice smooth as silk, "This is… dreadfully rude. I must admit, I am hurt. I was genuinely excited to collaborate with the young prodigy. The man who slew a Kage… Someone who understands the value of knowledge, of pushing boundaries." He sighed, a delicate sound full of wounded disappointment. "And here you are, planning to betray me before we've even begun. I expected better. I thought we had an understanding."
I looked at him, utterly unmoved.
"Hey, hey, don't make it sound like I'm the snake here." I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a heavy, put-upon sigh. "You're making me feel terrible. I just made a small mistake, that's all. Let me fix it. Let me explain what's happening."
This would be a perfect moment for a cigarette. Really sell the whole dangerous rogue with a heart of gold vibe.
Too bad I didn't smoke.
"Honestly," I continued, straightening up and shoving my hands into my pockets, "I really didn't expect you to just go along with it. I figured you'd at least hesitate. Maybe test the ink first. But..." I trailed off, shaking my head in mock disappointment.
Then I strode over to him and crouched down again, bringing myself to eye level. I watched as a faint liver spot bloomed on the back of his hand, spreading like a stain.
"What you're experiencing right now," I said quietly, "is the passage of time. Or more precisely, the years of your life slipping away." I leaned in, studying the liver spot slowly growing on his arm. "Think of it like this: the ink you're using? That's your lifespan. The more you write, the more you spend. Every stroke is a year. Every curve is a season. The more you write, the more sand drops to the bottom of the hourglass."
I smirked, then, an audacious, intrusive thought bubbled up in my brain. I couldn't help it and lifted one finger and poked him right in the center of his forehead.
"Bet you wish you had a shorter name now, huh?"
Orochimaru didn't recoil. He just looked at me. The smile remained, but the sheer, concentrated malice behind it was dense enough to have its own gravitational pull. Yeah. Lesson learned. Better not do that again.
"Doesn't matter, though," I said, pulling my hand back. "Long name, short name. Young boy barely out of the Academy or old man in his twilight years—the result's the same. You write your name and your age. And when you finish that last letter….." I drew a line across my throat with my thumb. "You'll be at death's door."
I stood, dusting off my knees. "That's the test of the Meigetsu Hermitage. See? I didn't do anything wicked. I didn't put you in a trap. I gave you exactly what you wanted." I gestured to the scroll. "You were just too arrogant to wonder if what you wanted might actually hurt you."
Orochimaru stared at me for a long, silent moment.
Then he laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a soft, amused exhale. A full, genuine laugh. It echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the wet stone walls, layered with that signature creepy rasp that made it sound like he was gargling gravel.
Doubly creepy, considering he was supposed to be panicking right now.
"Marvelous," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with a manic, scientific hunger. "Truly… marvelous. The village's higher-ups are fools for sleeping on a talent like yours. Killing the Mizukage wasn't a fluke at all. Like they thought. No, no. I underestimated you. Badly." He wiped at the corner of his eye with his free hand, like the whole thing was just delightful. "How refreshing."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. "...Thanks?" putting a healthy three meters between us. Being praised by Orochimaru felt like being complimented on your skin texture by a leatherworker. "Getting underestimated," I said, keeping my tone light, "is the greatest gift a shinobi can receive. People don't see you coming."
"And yet," Orochimaru licked his lips, eyes gleaming. "Your name is on this scroll." He nodded toward the parchment. "And here you stand before me. Hale. Young. Whole." His gaze sharpened. "Which means there's a way to clear this test. After all, a test should never be impossible—that defeats the purpose. Or..." He tilted his head. "...perhaps you were given a different test."
"Same scroll. Same test," I said, swatting the air as if to clear away his creeping analysis.
I paused. Just the memory was enough to make my stomach twist. I swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down.
"Before you start throwing shade," I said quickly, "I'll how much of a kindheatred and considerate soul I am and tell you the secret. How I passed." I met his eyes. "You just have to…. accept it. That's all there is to it."
Orochimaru's expression didn't change, but I felt his attention sharpen.
"This test," I continued, "is the Hermitage's way of giving you a glimpse of what comes with the power they offer. It shows you the cost. And it sees if you'll fight against what's owed." I gestured to the scroll. "Write your name. Accept the years slipping by. Accept the result—whether it's death or the path to Sage Arts. That's how you pass."
I paused, then added, "Also, not writing doesn't stop the drain. You're losing lifespan either way. So you might as well finish. At least then you'll be close to the end of it."
Orochimaru's lips curved into something that might've been a smile if it weren't so unsettling. "I see," he said softly, his voice carrying that slithering quality. "You've set quite the elaborate trap, Eishin-kun. Masterfully executed, I must admit."
"Again with the trap talk," I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. "It's not a trap." I gestured between us. "This is the same as you dragging me into these caves without asking first. We're just trying to help each other out and making a complete mess of it in the process. How clumsy of us."
Orochimaru snorted, an oddly human sound coming from him. "We would have made excellent partners, you and I." His tone went wistful, almost dreamy. "Two minds unbound by conventional morality, united in the pursuit of knowledge. Alas..." His yellow eyes fixed on me. "You simply had to let your sentimental attachment to 'duty' ruin the symmetry."
I wanted to scoff. The idea of working with him made my stomach turn. This monster, with all his crimes, all the bodies, young and old, he'd left in his wake…. I'd rather eat glass than be his partner. But I kept my face neutral and shrugged.
"Yeah, real shame," I said. "But hey, don't feel too bad. This isn't a total loss for me. I actually walk away with three wonderful parting gifts."
That caught his attention. His head tilted, reptilian curiosity sparking in those unnatural eyes. He regarded me with renewed interest.
I smirked, ticking off on my fingers. "One, the Hiraishin formula. Thanks again for that, by the way. Truly generous of you." I paused, letting the sarcasm drip. "Two, well, your death. I figure Anko will be ecstatic when she hears the news. Might even admit all the things she owed me. And three..."
I stopped, drawing out the moment. The blood was pumping now, hot and fast. I leaned forward slightly, meeting those serpentine eyes head-on.
"That nasty little seal the Hokage put on you? The one that keeps you from body-hopping?" My grin sharpened. "I'm really looking forward to ripping your corpse open and studying how it works. A seal that binds a Sannin... that's got to be a work of art."
Silence crashed down like a collapsing ceiling.
It stretched. And stretched. The only sound was the distant drip of water somewhere deeper in the cave and the wet breathing of the giant snakes.
I shouldn't have said that.
I started regretting opening my mouth. That was knowledge I wasn't supposed to have. Information that should've been locked tight only for the Hokage and a selected few. But in the heat of the moment, drunk on the rush of outsmarting him, I'd wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face.
Why do I keep making these fucking rookie mistakes? Dammit.
Orochimaru's smile twisted so wide I feared it would split his head and something would come out.
He nodded once. Slowly.
Then he turned his gaze down to the scroll and started writing.
His hand moved with precision, forming the first character of his name. The moment the brush stroke completed, his skin shifted. The gray deepened. More lines appeared around his eyes, carved deep like someone had taken a knife to wet clay. His lustrous black hair bleached into a brittle, stringy white.
Second character. His cheekbones sharpened as the flesh beneath receded. The hand holding the brush developed a tremor, slight but visible.
Third character. Age spots bloomed across his forearm like spilled ink. His posture collapsed, his spine curving into a question mark. The skin on his face sagged, melting off the bone structure like wax near a flame, revealing the skull beneath.
His hand shook violently, but the brush didn't stop.
Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.
"What's this, Orochimaru-sama?" I said, and I hated how my voice came out, not quite as steady as I wanted. "Did you give up? Accept your fate?"
He didn't answer. Just kept writing, each stroke precise despite the increasing shake in his hand.
"You're not the type," I continued, sharper now. "We both know that. And to truly accept the deal, to accept the years slipping away—it has to come from deep in your being. Not something you just choose on a whim."
Still nothing. The sound of the brush against paper was deafening.
The silence was getting to me. I preferred him when he was talking. Running his mouth, monologuing as all villains do. This…. This quiet determination was worse. Scarier, if I was being honest.
It was…. making me second-guess myself.
My whole plan hinged on one simple fact that while Orochimaru wanted Sage Arts, he desired immortality even more. It was what defined him, what drove every twisted choice he'd ever made. His fear of death. There was no way — no possible way — he could genuinely accept years slipping past him. It went against his entire nature. That's who he was. That's what he was.
Yet.
Yet.
Fourth character. Fifth. His fingers were skeletal now, knobbed with arthritis. The flesh hung loose on his frame like a coat two sizes too big.
Sixth character.
Seventh.
He finished the last stroke, and the man kneeling before me was unrecognizable. A decrepit old creature, spine bent nearly double, skin hanging in folds, liver-spotted and paper-thin. His breathing came in wet, rattling wheezes.
He turned his head, slowly, painfully, and smiled.
That bony, withered face. Those sunken yellow eyes. That smile.
My heart skipped.
I turned slowly to Aouru, the judge in this all. My throat felt tight. I tried to communicate everything with my eyes alone. He shouldn't have this. He shouldn't succeed. Tell me I didn't just fuck up catastrophically. Fucking tell me—
The owl hooted high and long.
She was laughing at me.
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