In a damp, dimly lit cavern somewhere deep in the Land of Rivers, the flickering glow of candles danced across pale skin and yellow eyes.
Orochimaru sat on a long velvet chair, his legs elegantly crossed, sipping tea as if he were in a noble's garden rather than a cave that smelled of bat droppings and old blood.
A paper report trembled slightly in his hands.
Across it were dozens of markings, inked summaries from his network of spies, all describing the same thing.
Pain vs. Kakashi Hatake.
More specifically: Pain's defeat.
Orochimaru's golden eyes scanned every line, his expression unreadable at first. But then his thin lips twitched. Once. Then again. A barely visible eyebrow lifted.
"…Defeated the Six Paths of Pain… alone?" he whispered.
He read the paragraph again. And again. And again.
And then very slowly, he folded the report shut and set it on the table next to him with two fingers. He sat in still silence.
Then, he burst out laughing—a dry, raspy wheeze that echoed off the cavern walls.
"Ara… ara… I see… so little Kakashi-kun has grown teeth."
But the laughter didn't last long.
Because the more he thought about it, the more that uneasy shiver crept down his spine.
He remembered how Kakashi used to flinch when he appeared behind him.
He remembered the nervous glances. The respectful bowing. The faint fear in Kakashi's chakra, no matter how calm he looked on the outside.
That boy…
Orochimaru looked back at the scroll, then stared at his sealed, bandaged hands.
He flexed his fingers. Nothing.
No jutsu.
No summoning.
Just dull, chakra-blocked limbs, the result of his soul being torn during the Third Hokage's cursed jutsu.
His smile faded into a sour frown.
"…I used to scare him with a look. Now he's strong enough to kill Pain, a Rinnegan wielder."
He clicked his tongue and turned to the scroll on the table beside him, an aged, red-lined scroll with Uzumaki markings.
The seal to undo the Dead Demon Consuming Seal.
His lip curled upward again.
"Hmph… They always underestimate my genius."
He stroked the edge of the scroll with reverence, like a precious jewel.
But before he could savor the moment….
Another report from one of his men landed in his lap.
He unfurled it casually, then paused.
Then stared.
"…What?" he whispered.
The report detailed a strange clone, acting on its own, accessing hidden labs, reclaiming rare DNA samples, and even appearing beside Hatake Kakashi in public.
The clone looked like him. Spoke like him. Knew everything.
And most importantly… it wasn't his.
Orochimaru froze.
He opened a series of backup reports from different regions.
Each one was worse than the last.
"…They didn't kill them…" he muttered, eyes wide, skimming through memories extracted from his subordinates.
"…they robbed me!"
Then he saw the final message, a tiny scroll left behind in one of his DNA vaults.
"Thank you for the resources, my dear inferior original."
Signed, the real Orochimaru.
There was a long, brittle silence.
Orochimaru's mouth hung open just slightly.
Then his jaw clenched. His eyes twitched. And then….
"AAAAARRRGHHHHHHHH!!!"
He hurled the scroll across the cave, where it slapped against the wall and burst into flames.
"INFERIOR?! INFERIOR?!! A mere clone dares call me that?!"
His screech echoed through the entire mountain.
He stood, seething, the veins in his neck twitching. "That brat Kakashi! He stole a piece of my soul in Anko's seal! THAT was the missing fragment! He-he-he-he-he-put it in a clone?! And now that clone is acting like it's the real me?!"
He began pacing, muttering wildly.
"He knows where all my secret labs are! No wonder he's been ten steps ahead! All those carefully stockpiled materials, years of my genius, gone! Burned! Reused! Borrowed without permission!!"
Orochimaru looked like he was about to cry.
"Even Kimimaro… gone. Kabuto… gone. All thanks to that damned Copy Ninja!"
He sank into a chair with the drama of a defeated noble. For a moment, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, his grin returned.
"Well… if the brat thinks I'm done, he's mistaken. I'll reclaim my power."
He stood once more, brushing off his robe, and turned toward a large cabinet.
With a dramatic flair, he flung it open and pulled out the old red scroll. His fingers tightened around it like a starving man grabbing a loaf of bread.
"Time to get my hands back…"
He clapped once.
No one came.
"…Kabuto!" he called.
Silence.
He blinked, then clicked his tongue. "Oh, right. Captured and dissected by Kakashi."
He sighed in disgust.
"…Kimimaro?"
More silence.
He groaned. "Dead too. Also Kakashi."
A muscle twitched under his eye. He clenched a fist.
"Why didn't I crush him when he was still weak?! Why did I let him live back then?!"
He called for someone else instead.
"Juro!" he barked.
A hunched subordinate shuffled into view, bowing immediately. "Y-yes, Orochimaru-sama!"
"Prepare a vessel. We're going to the old Uzumaki shrine."
"Yes, sir!"
…
Later, deep in the remains of the old Uzumaki shrine, now crumbling and half-swallowed by roots and stone, Orochimaru stood at the center of a cracked summoning circle.
His subordinate held a white-robed vessel in the corner, prepared and still.
Everything was silent, except the steady dripping of water from a collapsed ceiling.
Orochimaru's hands moved slowly but with intense focus.
The ritual began.
The Dead Demon Consuming Seal, one of the vilest and most dangerous techniques known to shinobi.
He didn't care.
He wanted his hands back.
Dark smoke coiled around the shrine.
Orochimaru gritted his teeth, blood pouring from his fingers as he performed the final hand seal. He felt the pull, the death god looming over him.
He did not flinch.
"Give me back what was mine," he hissed.
The reaper's mask cracked.
The spirit howled.
His hands, ghostly, sealed in the stomach of the Reaper, began to return.
In a blinding flash, they were thrust into his vessel's waiting body, back into reality.
Orochimaru gasped and fell forward, his arms trembling.
Then…
He flexed his fingers.
One.
Two.
His hands were whole again.
He let out a slow, exultant laugh.
"Finally…"
But then… something strange happened.
The air shifted.
Behind him, still hovering from the severed connection to the death god, four ghostly souls floated in the summoning circle.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed.
The souls were familiar.
He recognized the chakra instantly. Old. Powerful.
"…Hokages," he murmured. "Yes… I can use this."
He reached for the Edo Tensei scroll in his pouch
But before he could grab it…
The four souls suddenly shot upward, spiraling violently into the sky like stars returning to orbit.
They flew.
Straight toward Konoha.
Orochimaru stood frozen for half a second, the color draining from his face.
"K-Konoha?! No! NO!"
There was only one person insane enough to use them.
Kakashi.
"HE'S GOING TO USE THEM, AGAINST ME, NO!!"
He grabbed Juro by the collar.
"We're leaving!! NOW!"
"B-but the shrine!"
"FORGET THE SHRINE!"
A massive snake burst from the floor, and Orochimaru leapt onto it, dragging Juro behind him as they fled the crumbling ruin with all the grace of a panic-stricken opera actor.
As they vanished into the forest, the echo of Orochimaru's furious screech rang out behind them
"THAT INFURIATING BRAT!!"