Old friend
“What’s going on?”
Orochimaru grumbles, waking up to find himself face to face with a bewildered Kabuto. He doesn’t even think to ask how the boy got in here without anyone to let him in.
“What do you mean?”
The question is answered by Naruto giggling, latching onto Kabuto from behind and snatching his glasses off his face.
“Man, these are huge dattebayo! Aren’t they heavy to have on your face?”
He puts the glasses on and squints, pulling a hilariously disgusted face.
“How do you see outta these? It’s awful!”
“I need to see out of those!” Kabuto snarls back, snatching his glasses back and prying the child off him, only to have him immediately latch back on.
Ah. That would be what he meant.
“We had a bit of an urgent change of plans. Sorry for not warning you.”
As if to add insult to injury, Sasuke runs headlong into Kabuto as well, and he and Naruto cackle in glee.
“There you are!”
“Get off of me!”
“You’re so cranky!”
“I can’t imagine why!”
“Boys, that’s enough. Let him breathe,” Orochimaru scolds, dragging himself upright to separate them.
It’s hard not to laugh, but he knows Kabuto’s ego is already fragile.
“Where’s your brother?” he asks, instead of laughing.
“Makin’ breakfast,” Sasuke answers.
Orochimaru, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and with a bit of hair stuck to the corner of his mouth with drool, shoos the children out while trying to maintain his dignity.
“We aren't nannies,” Kabuto reminds him.
“I know.”
“So what the hell is going on?”
“Shit happened. I decided to improvise.”
Kabuto huffs, rubbing off the fingerprints on his glasses with the hem of his shirt.
“I guess it can’t be helped.”
“More or less. Now. let’s go eat, shall we?”
Kabuto shrugs, ego still wounded from the assault. He follows along to the cramped kitchen, where the children are chattering excitedly at the counter, under the impression they’re on some great adventure.
Itachi looks a bit better from a few hours ago- a good wash is largely to thank for that. He still has a horrid, grayish hue to his skin, and he still looks exhausted, but he’s brightened up a bit, and he manages to smile at them.
“All that’s here is rice and miso,” the boy says apologetically, waving them down with a spoon. "I hope that's alright."
(They have to have a serious talk about Itachi apologizing for things that can't be helped, before Orochimaru loses his mind about it.)
“That’s perfectly fine.”
Neither Itachi or Kabuto eat very much. Kabuto seems more intent in glaring Itachi down, while Itachi’s mind is wherever Itachi’s mind wanders in its free time. The younger boys keep on talking while they finish off everything in their bowls, along with generous second helpings. Not a single clue to the dire circumstances, as happy as could be hoped for.
Once everyone is tidied up and presentable, Orochimaru decides it’s time to head out.
Kabuto, of course, hates everything about his plan. He rants about how reckless it is. About how careless it is. Before finally relenting and going along with it anyway (as Orochimaru knew he would) when it became clear that there was no negotiating this.
The crisp mountain air is undeniably uplifting, so much that even Itachi’s gloomy demeanor notably lightens. The younger boys are as bright and cheerful as anything, pointing out anything cool that catches their eye as they go along, or occasionally bickering over who got to hold this unusually-shaped rock or that colorful leaf. Totally oblivious that anything is amiss.
“Hey mom, check this out!” Naruto chirps, waving a glossy, iridescent feather in the air and beaming. “Isn’t it cool ttebayo?”
He practically forces it into Orochimaru’s hand, bouncing around with pride at his find.
“What kinda bird is it from, you think?”
“Hm? I’m not much of an ornithologist, so I couldn’t tell you," Orochimaru answers, giving Itachi a glance out of the corner of his eye, knowing the boy knows more than anyone would ever care to know about birds.
Itachi gives it a once-over, squinting an eye.
“It just looks like a grackle’s feather to me. Hard to tell without the rest of the bird though.”
Naruto hums in delight at his newfound knowledge and repeating gracklegracklegrackle to himself.
There’s a tiny house up ahead. Orochimaru lies to himself and tells himself he isn’t scared to confront his old friend.
“We really don’t have to do this,” Kabuto says. He’s very soundly ignored.
With his heart in his throat, Orochimaru raps at the door.
After maybe ten seconds, the door opens.
The first words spoken are a totally flat "What the fuck."
If Jiraiya were to sit down and make a list of the things he thought might happen to him today, “Orochimaru showing up at his house with two Uchiha brats and Minato’s son” wouldn’t have made the top ten.
Or top thousand, for that matter.
Orochimaru looks bone-crushingly tired (and has he always been that…pretty?). The younger Uchiha hides behind what must be his older brother (sister maybe?), while Naruto hangs off Orochimaru’s arm, glaring at Jiraiya with those obnoxiously blue eyes. The gray haired one fiddles with his glasses, and pointedly avoids eye contact.
“Been awhile, hasn’t it?” Orochimaru asks, sounding about as tired as he looks. Nevertheless, he offers up what might be an attempt at a smile.
In response, Jiraiya slams the door in all their faces.
He leans his weight against the door to keep it from opening, his eardrums threatening to rupture when Orochimaru screams at him.
“Jiraiya you fucking son of a bitch!” he snarls, banging on the door when it shows no sign of yielding. “Get your useless ass out here and take some responsibility for this child!”
“Stop talking like you’re one of my old one night stands!” Jiraiya shouts back, unyielding. “How the fuck did you get your hands on him anyway?!”
“I was going to tell you that before you slammed the door on me!”
“Why the fuck should I open it anyway?! How am I supposed to know it’s not a tri-”
“...Can we just go?”
A small, defeated voice gets both of them to fall abruptly silent.
“I told you. Grown ups don’t like me. We should just leave.”
Hell. If that statement isn’t a weapons-grade guilt trip, nothing is.
Jiraiya sighs. Opens the door. He pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders what the hell his life is coming to.
“Just get in the house before I change my mind.”
Itachi hangs back for a second.
“Hey, Sasuke, Naruto-”
The younger boys perk up, eagerly awaiting instructions.
“Why don’t you stay out here for awhile? See what sort of interesting stuff you can find.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Orochimaru agrees. “Kabuto will look with you.”
Kabuto splutters at this volun-telling, but they’re already inside, leaving him behind with the kids.
The table is covered in junk to the point the wood is completely hidden. Awkwardly, they clear space for them to sit and rest their hands.
Jiraiya speaks first.
“Is this what you’re doing with your life these days?” Jiraiya asks, tersely. “Kidnapping Uchiha?”
“He didn’t kidnap any of us!” Itachi snaps, looking immediately sheepish after his outburst.
Clearing his throat, he speaks again, far more calmly this time.
“We ran away. Well. I ran away. And took them with me so they’d be safe.”
“Safe from what?”
Itachi opens his mouth, but before he can even get a word out, his hands fly up and clamp over it, so that whatever he tries to say is lost in a muffled whimper.
“...Shimura’s been doing what Shimura does best,” Orochimaru answers for him. “Itachi-kun decided he didn’t want to cooperate. So he had to remove himself from the situation.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means a hit being put out on a lot of people who don’t deserve to die. It’s already cost a sixteen-year-old boy his life. Is that enough for you, Jiraiya?”
That vaguely rings a bell. Jiraiya doesn’t keep in very close contact with what goes on in Konoha, but as infrequent as his outings are, even he’s heard the whisperings of the sudden suicide of some young Uchiha prodigy.
“Guess it really was a murder then.”
“It wasn’t me!” Itachi insists, becoming flustered. “I didn’t do it, I-”
“-Chill the fuck out. I didn’t say anything about you.”
Itachi falls quiet again. Jiraiya grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes, and continues.
“Okay. And the other two?”
Itachi bows his head in shame.
“I don’t want them facing any retaliation for what I’ve done. It’ll be hard enough for my mother and father to deal with the fallout.”
The boy starts drumming his fingers on the countertop, trying to vent some of his nervous energy.
“I just wanted to take care of them- I owed that to my parents and to Kushina-baachan for-”
“-Wait how’d you know Kushina?” Jiraiya interrupts, immediately perking up at the name.
Itachi raises an eyebrow like it’s a stupid question.
“She was my mom’s friend- she’d come around all the time and I know she’d be so mad if something happened-”
…yeah, probably.
Jiraiya thought it would be easier to argue than this.
The silence is deafening. Orochimaru keeps staring Jiraiya down, and the boy’s eyes dart around the dirty house while fidgeting anxiously.
He stands up, out of nowhere. He looks nervous, like he’s having a hard time speaking.
Finally, he manages.
“I’m going to do the dishes.”
Before Jiraiya can ask him what the hell he’s talking about, the boy is at the sink, running hot water and rummaging around for soap and a scrubber.
The clinking around of dishes cuts through the silence, while Jiraiya tries to ignore his former friend staring a hole clean through him.
“So why show up here?” Jiraiya finally asks.
“Because you’re the one who knows how to handle Jinchuriki. And don’t you think your godson deserves to have some sort of family in his life?”
Well. That’s fair enough.
“Yeah, I do. But why like this?”
“Short notice. First thing I could think of doing.”
Also fair.
The younger boys are making loud, elated noises outside, and they can hear Kabuto halfheartedly trying to keep them under control.
Normally it would probably be funny.
“What the hell makes you think I’m about to do you any favors after the shit you did?”
“Because I assume you don’t want Shimura deciding to get rid of him for a Jinchuriki that’s easier to control. And because I assume you don’t want your godson winding up in the hands of a criminal organization who wants to tear out the biju he’s got inside him.”
Jiraiya blinks. Ponders this for a second.
“...you know, you could have led with that.”
“I tried. Before you slammed the door in my face.”
Jiraiya’s had about enough of this aloof, above-it-all sort of demeanor. He grabs Orochimaru by the collar, dragging him halfway across the table and scattering pens and notebooks everywhere.
“What the hell did you expect me to do when you roll up after fucking fifteen years?!”
“-I’m gonna go check on the other two,” Itachi mumbles under his breath, drying his hands on his trousers as he hurries to excuse himself.
“Let. Me. Go.” Orochimaru hisses.
“Did you expect a fucking warm welcome after what you did?! Are you fucking stupid?!”
Jiraiya shoves him, square on his chest. Orochimaru goes toppling backward, and Jiraiya stares, startled by something.
“You don’t have to be so fucking violent.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence. Jiraiya contemplates what he’d just undeniably felt when he shoved Orochimaru.
“What?”
Jiraiya storms around to the other side of the table, drags Orochimaru to his feet, and grabs two handfuls of soft flesh, confirming his suspicion.
“Since when did you have tits?!” he demands.
“Since I got them,” Orochimaru snaps back.
“But why do you have tits?!”
“You of all people should know why people have tits!”
“But why do you have tits?!”
Shaking his head in utter disbelief, all Orochimaru can do in response is laugh.
(Jiraiya knows full well what Orochimaru has been doing to cheat death. He was told right as Orochimaru had run away. )
“You can figure out why.”
Normally, maybe. Jiraiya isn’t a stupid man- usually. But, as Orochimaru should really have suspected, being in close proximity to a pair of breasts has made him lose his better judgment.
So much time has passed, and yet so little has changed.
“Do you grope everyone with a set of breasts these days? You might’ve spent too long as a hermit if you’ve let your social graces degrade that badly.”
Finally realizing what he’s done, Jiraiya releases him, clearing his throat like that could dispel the awkwardness.
“Just stop being stupid. I need help wrangling your fucking godkid. Are you going to help or not?”
“You can’t be serious right now. It’s been so long and you just expect me to-”
“-If it makes it better for you, don’t make it about me. Make it about the boy.”
The pair stare each other down for what feels like an eon. Jiraiya has that pitiful kicked-puppy sort of look, far too much hurt for his laugh-lined face to bear.
“....Fuck you,” he mumbles. Grabbing his old friend’s skinny shoulders with those large, sturdy hands of his.
It’s a familiar grip that Orochimaru is embarrassed to admit he missed.
“I hate you.” Jiraiya says.
“You’re lying.” Orochimaru replies.
The absolutely deadpan way he delivers the line pushes Jiraiya over the edge, and he can’t help laughing.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I suppose nothing’s really changed, then.”
Orochimaru manages to laugh with him, just a little.
He gestures toward the door with his head, with a meaningful expression.
"Well? You should come and meet your godson properly."