KONOHA

The door to a dimly lit room swung open and in slithered a snake. Pale and grey it was; a serpent on two legs with a visage epicene. Fake.

Orochimaru’s eyes gleamed with malice. Danzo sat across from him, stoic as an eunuch in the Daimyo’s palace. "Ah, Danzo," he purred, voice chiming and tainted with venom like a silver chalice. "Puppetmaster Extraordinaire! It's been a while since you were last at the reins. Now your dearest Konoha ails and here you are, trapped here in a gilded cage; your cell. Still, how quaint it is to see you again. You seem to be doing well even as all around you ails.”

Danzo's good eye never left the sannin’s pale form. "Orochimaru," he acknowledged, face darkening like a brewing storm.

"You are here.”

“Of course, I am here!” quoth the sannin. “Why else would we be having this conversation, ye doddery kin.”

“...Your arrival is a bit earlier than expected,” the Elder continued, disregarding the serpent’s jubilant mien. “Nonetheless, this changes nothing; expect no mercy from me, traitor, for I am no Hiruzen.”

"Always think you are one step ahead, don't you?” tittered the sannin in response. “The sheer arrogance to think I would return without a plan. Nothing can save you or Konoha now, Danzo-san. I've brought allies—"

“Foolish child,” Danzo drawled, interrupting. "I see you still take pleasure in manning the role of the jester. Might I be bold as to ask if you are unaware that all is meaningless in the face of overwhelming power?"

The sannin said nothing in response and the room descended into an awkward sil—

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Orochimaru guffawed, clutching his trembling sides.

“...What amuses you so, traitor?”

“Overwhelming power, says the wannabe dictator! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Orochimaru coughed between laughs. “Forgive me,” he said, wiping tears from his face’s lower half. “Oh, please continue, Lord Fifth.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

The Elder scoffed, face darkening. “Why are you here, low-born filth? You must know killing me achieves nothing.”

The sannin's serpentine eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, I never knew! Truly, is that so?—he giggled again—You've always been a pragmatic man, Danzo. That’s why I can understand why you might struggle to understand the illogicalities of greater beings. So let me explain something important to you now with my mood being so agreeing. Your death today won’t be to achieve a greater objective or something equally grand…

“It would simply be because he decreed it so; that much I am guaranteeing."

Danzo finally shifted, his gaze narrowing. “...You are not yourself,” he said with a certain realisation. With a certain conviction. “...Shisui?" he murmured before a strange glint flashed through his eyes. "Is that the boy's second Mangekyo?”

The sannin blinked, expression level as the top of a plateau.

Danzo's hands clenched into fists behind his back. "Such a waste… A great shame also—”

“Binding Snake Glare Spell!” A large snake shot out from Orochimaru’s sleeves, interrupting the Elder's monologue, to coil around him to no avail. Two other shinobi appeared from the concrete wall behind, like rats out of the woodwork; a trap—quite refined.

A cord of darkness shot out from the shadows, its master still like a rock; the second shinobi charged, blazing with motion that against his partner’s juxtaposed. His blade rose, poised for a cleave downward—taut—as he flickered forward. Like a fly in fresh honey, the shadows ensnared the sannin, holding him by the spine as the other shinobi’s Katana cleaved him in twine.

Two beds of snakes emerged from the sannin’s bisected halves, splashing to the ground before slithering into the ether’s shadowy paths. Orochimaru reappeared by the door, his hands a blur. His gaze flickered to see Danzo’s free hand also ablur.

“Summoning: Impure World Reincarnation!”

The earth rumbled and three stone coffins emerged before the sannin; a bastion. Both blade and shadows faltered on their hardened mien. The Third Kazekage emerged first, eyes darkened by the curse as his signature

Iron Sand spilt out of his coffin. Pakura and Gari followed after.

Orochimaru said nothing as the first of the living corpses moulded a protective cast of iron powder around him. The cocoon formed. Neither Pakura nor Gari blinked as they raised their arms and took aim; Pakura at the men standing before her and Gari at the floor beneath their feet.

“Scorch Release: Scorching Wave!”

“Explosion Release: Impact!”

.

.

.

Silence.

More silence.

Even more silence.

In silence, the sannin pushed past the red-hot, slagging mass of metal covering him. Disfigured but rapidly healing, he rose as he took stock, eyes scanning the rubble for life or its absence, therefore. The underground room had caved in, shards of sunlight peeking in. The sannin frowned, his hands blurring before a tiny white snake appeared in a puff of smoke.

“Search the rubble,” He ordered. The creature gave a small bob of its head before quickly slithering away and down a crack in the pile. A split second later Orochimaru leapt out of the cave in; a three-foot-long rod of hardened chakra speared through the place he stood moments ago.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, he stared warily at the weapon burning in black flames.

“Amaterasu…?”

The pile of concrete shifted again and from the rubble rose a great figure. Dark purple and radiating such sinister chakra as to make the sannin momentarily pause. It was a creation of divine prowess. A spectre of ancient power.

A being born from the depths of the Uchiha's indomitable essence.

“Susanoo…”

Orochimaru’s gaze panned down to regard the figure within. Danzo who hid behind him took the moment to begin unsealing his arm.

“Fugaku?” the sannin muttered as his eyes swivelled to meet Danzo’s emotionless ones.

“Truly, Danzo," he sighed, "you are irredeemable.”