The evening breeze carried the smell of salt and damp wood through the quiet council room of the Land of Waves. Orochimaru straightened from his seat, golden eyes glittering in the lamplight.
"I'll leave the rest to all of you," he said, his tone final. "My work here is done."
Qing He bowed with almost reverent admiration. "Yes, Lord Orochimaru."
From the start, Qing He had obeyed Orochimaru without hesitation, and this time was no different. The plan had gone exactly as his master intended—until Kakuzu opened his mouth.
If not for Kakuzu's stubborn objections, everything would already be wrapped up.
Orochimaru gave the barest of nods and turned away. "Then I'll head back first."
Before anyone could respond, his fingers flicked through seals and his body shimmered. The Flying Thunder God Technique tore space itself, and his figure dissolved into nothing.
Kakuzu clicked his tongue in grudging admiration. "Space–time ninjutsu… convenient as ever."
Even after seeing the jutsu multiple times, he still felt a twinge of awe. Orochimaru's mastery of the technique rivaled the legends.
---
Prosperity in the Land of Waves
Meanwhile, Hanzō strolled through the bustling streets of the Land of Waves, his cloak brushing against crates of fresh seafood and colorful produce. Lanterns cast warm circles of light onto the cobblestones as merchants hawked their wares.
Amazing, he thought, observing the lively scene. This prosperity is all thanks to the White Snake Pharmaceutical Technology Company.
Before that company had settled here, the Land of Waves had been a sleepy backwater. Peaceful, yes, but its economy lagged far behind even the war-torn Land of Rain. Now restaurants overflowed with customers, and trade ships lined the harbor.
---
Hokage's Office: The Hairline Problem
Far away in the Land of Fire, the Hokage's office smelled of medicinal tea and old parchment.
Orochimaru set a cup of steaming tea on the desk and leaned closer to inspect Hiruzen Sarutobi's forehead. His golden eyes narrowed.
"Hiruzen-sensei, what are you looking at?" the Hokage asked, shifting uncomfortably under the intense gaze.
"Your hairline," Orochimaru said with mock seriousness. "It's… a bit dangerous."
Hiruzen cleared his throat, feigning calm. "Orochimaru, you don't understand. Men approaching middle age experience this."
"Middle age?" Orochimaru tilted his head. Isn't it a little early for him to call himself middle-aged? Asuma hadn't even been born yet.
His gaze flicked toward Sarutobi Biwako. Her stomach showed no sign of pregnancy. Perhaps the couple simply wasn't ready for children—or perhaps the old man just didn't want them yet.
"But Lord Danzō and Lord Homura have hair as thick as ever," Orochimaru said, a sly edge in his voice. "Aren't they the same age as you?"
"I'm different!" Hiruzen's voice rose a notch. "I have far more to worry about every day."
Orochimaru hid a smirk. "I see. I was thinking of researching a hair-growth pill, but perhaps Hiruzen-sensei doesn't need such a thing after all."
He turned to leave with a careless shrug.
A sudden buzz of chakra rattled the air. In an instant, Hiruzen stood in front of him, moving with a speed that reminded Orochimaru why his teacher was called the "Professor of Ninjutsu."
"Orochimaru, wait!" The Hokage's voice was sharp, but a faint blush touched his cheeks. "I… am still very interested in that hair-growth product you mentioned. If it works well, it could become a best-seller."
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. "Are you sure that isn't already a receding hairline, sensei?"
Hiruzen forced a laugh. "When the formula is complete, the person who will benefit most will be you—the developer!"
So he does care, Orochimaru thought. He waved a hand. "Very well. I'll take my time with the research."
Few men in the world worried so obsessively about their hairline, but apparently the Hokage was among them.
---
At the Root Base
Leaving the Hokage Building, Orochimaru descended into the shadowed tunnels of the Root base as though returning to his own home. The masked Root operatives straightened at his arrival.
"Lord Orochimaru!"
Their respect was genuine. Despite his occasional absences, Orochimaru still commanded admiration among them.
Inside, Danzō Shimura sat at his desk, stamping documents with a scowl dark enough to curdle milk. He looked like a man convinced the world owed him money.
"No new intelligence?" Orochimaru asked, reading the tension in Danzō's posture.
Danzō's frown deepened. "All captured Sky Ninja committed suicide. We gained nothing."
The Sky Ninja had been probing Konoha's defenses for weeks, ambushing patrols and vanishing before they could be tracked. The pattern irritated Danzō to no end.
"Suicide by poison," Orochimaru murmured. "Are they chasing fame by antagonizing Konoha?"
It wasn't impossible. Many mercenary groups tried to make a name for themselves by targeting the Hokage—even if they failed. Infamy brought customers.
"That's the only explanation," Danzō growled. "They're a swarm of flies."
"Could the Aburame clan not track them? I heard Aburame Shisuke joined the last operation."
"I expected survivors," Danzō admitted, "but every Sky Ninja caught in the nesting fluid took their own life. I underestimated them."
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed. "Judging by how often they strike, they won't stop. And yet they focus only on Konoha. Why not Hidden Mist or Iwagakure—or even hot-blooded Kumogakure?"
Danzō's jaw tightened. He had no answer.
"What do you think of them, Orochimaru?" he asked finally.
"If we locate their base, I recommend a massive strike," Orochimaru replied. "End this before it festers."
"Exactly! We must exterminate these flies before they spark a larger crisis!" Danzō's fist slammed the desk. "Even you see it. Why doesn't Hiruzen? He still hesitates to deploy more forces."
Orochimaru tilted his head. "Perhaps he fears that an aggressive move will alarm the other villages. He values the appearance of peace."
"This is false peace!" Danzō's voice rose. "How long can it last? I act for Konoha, not for myself. If not for our village, I'd have abandoned this already."
Orochimaru studied him silently, noting the simmering anger beneath Danzō's composure.
---
Nightfall and Mischief
Hours later, steam swirled lazily in Orochimaru's private bath. The pale green water, scented faintly of apple, bubbled around him like carbonated soda. The warmth dulled his senses, and a drowsy haze settled over him.
Just a short rest, he thought as his eyes slipped shut.
In the adjoining shower, Tsunade rinsed suds from her blonde hair. "Orochimaru—" She stopped when she saw him asleep in the tub.
"You fell asleep again!" she huffed. He promised to help me rinse my hair!
Tsunade stepped closer, ready to shake him awake, but a mischievous grin slowly curved her lips. An idea sparkled in her eyes.
Before long, Orochimaru—still asleep—was dressed in soft white-snake pajamas, courtesy of Tsunade's quick hands.
Hyūga Mio peeked in and raised an eyebrow. "Is this… okay?"
"Relax," Tsunade said, barely containing a laugh. "I used to dress him in cow pajamas when we were younger. This is nothing."
Mio shook her head, amused, and retreated to her own room. Tsunade admired her handiwork, then carefully carried the sleeping Orochimaru to his bed and hugged him like a cherished body pillow. Satisfied, she let out a contented sigh.
---
A City That Never Sleeps
Outside, the Land of Waves thrummed with midnight life. Fishermen returned with glittering catches, and cooks transformed the seafood into dishes so artful that travelers swore they rivaled any mainland feast.
Rumor said a wandering writer named Miya had once scrawled a simple snack recipe here. Locals perfected it until merchants from faraway ports flocked to taste it.
Elsewhere, Hanzō struggled with his own disguise. The poison sac implanted in his body made eating difficult, and his snorkel attracted stares. Using Transformation Jutsu, he questioned townsfolk about the White Snake Pharmaceutical Company. The answers were strikingly consistent: they credited their newfound prosperity entirely to the company, not to the distant daimyo who taxed them.
Their loyalty bordered on fierce devotion. Hanzō even sensed faint killing intent when he hinted at any threat to the company's future.
---
Morning After
At dawn, a blade of sunlight pierced the curtains and lit Orochimaru's face. He stirred, blinking groggily. Beside him, Tsunade sprawled in an ungraceful heap.
He sat up—and froze.
White-snake pajamas.
He exhaled through his nose. Of course. Tsunade never forgot her little pranks.
"Heh," came her sleepy chuckle as she opened one eye. "Suits you perfectly."
Orochimaru said nothing, but the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed him. From behind, with the pajama hood's little snake tail, he probably did resemble an upturned white serpent.
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