Ties that Bind

“Good, perfect. Let’s try that new jutsu out today, shall we?”

Orochimaru’s students watch, riveted, as he walks them through the hand seals for their new technique. One by one, they mirror his motions, three sets of eager eyes fixed on him.

He keeps up his facade. The patient Sensei. This is what he needs to be right now. Nothing else matters in this moment except the three children copying his movements. Not Danzo, not his research. Nothing else.

(His poor students. They have no idea this is the last time they’ll get to train together.)

“Watch your fingers on the bird seal, Hakuto-kun. If the angle is off, it won’t work properly.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“Anko-chan, be careful- you want your left hand to overlap the right on the snake seal.”

“Right, sorry-”

“Very good- Amai-kun, you’ll need to get your wrists flatter on the boar seal. Like this, see?”

“Understood, Sensei.”

“Good, good…”

He trails off, finding himself distracted.

“Sensei?”

Orochimaru chortles. The leaves behind him rustle, and a blur of black disappears behind a tree trunk.

“-You can join us if you like, Itachi-kun. No need to sneak around.”

Head bowed bashfully,  the boy pokes his head out from behind the tree.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I wanted to watch-”

“There’s no need to apologize. We’re glad to have you with us.”

Itachi creeps closer, shyly averting his eyes.

“How much have you caught, Itachi-kun?”

“Um- I think-”

His little hands glide effortlessly through the hand seals, one after the other.

“Is this right? I’ve never tried a fuinjutsu before, so I’m not sure-”

Orochimaru can’t help but smile.

“Oh? How could you tell it was a fuinjutsu?”

“My parents have a lot of books about all sorts of jutsu. This one is almost the same as the basic sealing jutsu I was reading about last night.”

“Eh? Aren’t you a little young to be reading books like that?” Anko interjects, squinting at the little child that’s interrupted their training.

Itachi shrugs. “Maybe.”

Orochimaru steers them back on track.

“You’re quite right, Itachi-kun. I’ve truncated the basic sealing jutsu to make it quicker to perform. It’s useful for keeping weapons on you without taking up too much space- especially when you’re small and don’t have much to begin with.”

He pulls out a few blank paper scrolls, and hands one to each of the children.

“We can try it out on a couple shuriken.”

“Yeah!” Anko bounces from one foot to the other in excitement. “Gimme-”

Anko lays her scroll out flat, tossing a handful of weapons carelessly on top of it. Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth, eyes screwed up in concentration. Her teammates copy her- albeit with a bit more composure.

After some hesitation, Itachi does as well.

“Good- now, just as I’ve shown you-”

They perform the seals in unison; the shuriken vanish in small puffs of smoke, replaced by small, black circles of kanji on the paper.

“Perfect,” Orochimaru praises, clapping his hands together. “You’ve picked it up faster than I’d thought you would!”

His three students light up at the praise. A faint pink dusts Itachi’s cheeks.

The boy sticks around for the rest of their training- mostly silently observing. Occasionally joining in when it’s time to practice ninjutsu.

(He’d known the boy was bright for his age, but Orochimaru didn’t suspect just how much of a natural shinobi he seems to be.)

It’s around noon when they finish. Anko tries to make some excuse to stay later, to stay with Orochimaru, but he scolds her gently, and sends her on her way home. Eventually, he and Itachi are alone in the spacious training grounds. Itachi fixes him with a determined stare.

“I want you to teach me.”

“Oh?”

Itachi curls his little hands into little fists.

“I want to be strong enough to protect my brother or sister. I wanna be strong enough to lead my clan. I wanna be strong enough that people stop looking at me like I’m broken.”

Suddenly, he bows deeply, eyes scrunched up in an effort to hide his emotions.

“Orochimaru-sama, please take me on as your student!”

Orochimaru laughs from sheer surprise.

“Oh, Itachi-kun. You’re adorable.”

Itachi splutters, looking thoroughly offended at being called adorable. Orochimaru shakes his head, laughter giving way to a sigh.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that for you, Itachi-kun.”

“Huh? But why-”

“It’s not for you to worry about,” Orochimaru interrupts.  “But I won’t be around in the village long enough to be a good teacher for you.”

Itachi’s little brow knits together.

“What do you mean?”

Orochimaru shakes his head once more. He slides his fingers under the boy’s chin, tilting his head upward.

(He wants to tell him the truth. That he’s ill, that he’s dying- and if what he’s planning doesn't work, he’s going to fade away, and nothing anybody could do could save him. But that’s a burden Itachi doesn't deserve to bear.)

“It means I won’t be able to stay in Konoha much longer.”

“I’ll go with you!” Itachi declares.

Orochimaru falters.

It’s tempting, oh so tempting, to take this poor, bright child away from here. Away from this wretched hole of misery, before it can break his tender heart.

And yet-

It would be cruel- so very cruel- to take him away from his parents. From his home.

(And in the event what he’s planning fails him- and it very well might- it would be cruel to make Itachi watch him die.)

“No,” he finally answers, firmly.

“But-”

“-Don’t start crying again.”

The boy bites his bottom lip, swallowing a melancholy sound, and it hurts. It hurts to listen to.

“Itachi-kun. Which do you want- a brother or a sister?”

“Huh?”

The child blinks in his surprise.

“Do you want a little brother or a little sister?” Orochimaru repeats, wanting to comfort him. Wanting to persuade him not to follow.

“...I want a little brother.”

“And that little brother will need you there for him, Itachi-kun. He’ll need you to protect him, and look after him. Don’t you think?”

Itachi whines, but manages to nod in understanding.

“Good boy.”

Orochimaru tucks a stray wisp of hair behind Itachi’s ear.

“You don’t need to be sad. It won’t be forever.”

His words don’t seem to be reassuring to Itachi.

“Here- you’re good with jutsu- so let me show you something.”

He walks Itachi, patiently, through another series of hand signs. When they’ve finished, a pair of identical snakes, small and snowy white, appear from a little puff of smoke.

“If you need me, this jutsu will let you find me, no matter how far apart we are.”

Itachi’s dark eyes light up; he reaches down to let one of the snakes wind itself up his skinny arm, its forked tongue flicking in and out, before vanishing along with its twin.

“...So, you’ll still talk to me?” he asks, some happiness at last coloring his cheeks. “Even when you leave?”

“Of course, Itachi-kun. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

Orochimaru presses a thin finger to his thin lips, smiling playfully at him.

“It has to stay just between us, alright?”

“Yeah!”

Itachi is smiling now, too.

(He feels so sneaky, so wonderfully naughty, to finally have a secret of his own.)

“Well, I think you should go home, Itachi-kun. Your mother will worry if you’re gone for too long.”

The boy pouts a little.

“...I guess so.”

Orochimaru watches as the child leaves, a little sadness tugging at his heart.

He’d wonder if he’s doing the right thing- but he’s long, long past the point of wondering such things.

In this world, he knows there’s no room for uncertainty. That’s the sort of thing that eats you alive.

Orochimaru thought he’d been prepared for the all-too likely event that Sarutobi would discover what he’s been up to. Thought he could face the old man’s anger, his sorrow, his horror at what Orochimaru had done. He’d thought, really thought, that he had banished any warmth he’d once felt toward his sensei, thought he could face him coldly.

And yet- that look of stunned betrayal on Sarutobi’s face breaks something inside of him. As the old man takes in the sight around him- the scrolls of forbidden jutsu, the half-dead body on the gurney behind him, the splatter of blood across Orochimaru’s face- he slowly loses color.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice weak. “Orochimaru, what have you done?!”

It’s so tempting to tell him the truth- to expose the dirty secrets he’s kept hidden all these years. But he knows, even if he tells, that it’s too late, far too late, to fix everything he’s done.

So he lies. Feels the mask slip over his true self, so natural it’s a part of him now.

He hears himself say words that he doesn't really believe, like some alien creature has taken over his throat. He talks about immortality, about all those secrets of the Universe he wishes to unravel. He watches Hiruzen’s eyes grow wide, watches him become afraid, and it hurts even though there shouldn’t be any bond left between them to hurt Orochimaru anymore.

He hears Sarutobi calling for him as he flees, hears the old man’s heart breaking (breaking like Anko’s heart is going to be broken, all alone because he’s abandoning her, the poor thing-) and he almost feels regret.

But he pushes that aside, because regret is something he can’t afford. Not anymore.

Leaving poor Anko hurts even worse than leaving Hiruzen.

He turns his back to her, because he can’t stand to see the sorrow on her face. But he can’t block out her voice, her voice and it’s painful to hear.

“Orochimaru-sensei, it hurts!” she cries, curled up tightly, clutching at the bleeding wound in her neck.

-He wants to turn around, wants to cradle her in his arms, wants to pet her hair and comfort her because hold on, just a little longer, you’ll be okay. He wants to stay with her, to hold her hand and ease the pain until the Cursed Seal of Heaven finally takes hold of her.

You’ll be okay, just bear with it, it’ll make you stronger, it’ll protect you-

He can’t bring himself to face her, or the misery he knows will be in those lovely violet eyes.

“Orochimaru-sensei please-”

Her words garble together into incoherent screaming.

Orochimaru walks away, shutting the door behind him, shutting off whatever tender feelings he’d felt toward his pupil.

(Poor thing. Poor little child. It’s his fault, all his fault. She doesn't deserve this. But she has to be strong, strong enough to protect herself, since he won’t be able to anymore.)

He needs to go now. There’ll be ANBU on his trail soon, desperate to take him down. Every second he stands here is a second he’s wasting.

He can't waste time anymore. Not even for Anko.

Leaving Jiraiya hurts even worse than leaving Anko. Hurts worse than he ever thought anything could.

Jiraiya can’t move anymore- the venom Orochimaru had turned on him is doing its work, rendering his body very nearly useless. But he tries- oh how he tries.

And he speaks. Oh, he speaks.

Orochimaru had expected Jiraiya to curse him. To scream that he hates him.

But instead-

“-Tell me what I did wrong, Maru,” Jiraiya pleads, nearly choking on his own spit as the venom made swallowing near impossible. “Just tell me- whatever I did, I’m sorry-"

Jiraiya is crying, and that’s almost worse than his begging. He’s trying so hard to pull himself up, to reach for Orochimaru.

“Please, Maru- what’s going on?! I don’t understand!”

For a brief flash, Orochimaru feels the intense desire to rip Jiraiya’s throat out, if only to stop those pitiful words spilling out of his mouth.

But he doesn't. He can’t. Because it’s Jiraiya.

With a heavy sigh, Orochimaru undoes the knot at the back of his Konoha headband. The headband he’d been taught to treasure. The headband he’d once been so very proud to wear.

He kneels down, and lays it in front of Jiraiya.

“That sentimentality of yours has always been your weakness,” he muses, in a teasing tone he doesn't really mean.

He cups Jiraiya’s face in his hand, and it’s rough and weather-worn, wet from tears and sweat. He looks into those gray eyes one last time, hoping Jiraiya won’t catch his longing.

“I won’t be sentimental anymore, old friend.”

With those words, he stands, and turns away from Jiraiya. Listens to him rage impotently, shout his name until the syllables mean nothing.

He runs until Jiraiya’s voice fades into the veil of leaves. And then he keeps running.