TOBIRAMA ATE IN SILENCE WHILE OROCHI–MARU SPOKE.
Not because he lacked questions, quite the opposite. His mind was moving too quickly now, piecing together probabilities and consequences with the same ruthless precision he applied to battlefield strategy. Every sentence that left Orochimaru’s mouth confirmed one thing:
This situation was catastrophically real.
The number alone was enough to dig something unpleasant inside his chest. Tobirama had expected perhaps a few years ahead at most. A decade, if he stretched imagination to its limit. But decades?
Enough time for history itself to rot and reshape. Enough time for Senju Tobirama to become a dead man. If not in battle then by old age. His expression remained impassive regardless.
He swallowed the mouthful of rice before finally speaking. “You speak very comfortably for a man who infiltrated my laboratory, concealed critical information, and carried my brother’s chakra signature into my home. A matter which I will look into.”
His crimson eyes lifted slowly toward Orochimaru. “And yet you expect me to simply accept your proposals at face value.”
The rhythmic ticking of Orochimaru’s nails against the table scraped against Tobirama’s nerves with precision.The sort of sound meant to fill silence while waiting for a reaction.
Tobirama refused to give him one. Instead, he leaned back slightly into the chair Orochimaru had pulled out for him, the movement subtle but cautious, as though he still expected this entire interaction to turn hostile at any second.
“Your restraint is interesting,” Tobirama admitted after a moment. “If your intentions were malicious, you have already squandered several opportunities.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You are correct about one thing, though,” he said quietly. “This technique cannot be allowed to spread.”
A jutsu like Benzaiten could not exist openly. Human greed alone guaranteed a disaster.
“And if you truly came here to preserve that outcome, then your goals currently align with mine.”
“As for your proposals…” His gaze sharpened further.
“The first option is idiotic. If we separate and independently continue researching Benzaiten, then conflict becomes inevitable. Even if neither of us intends hostility, distrust alone would escalate the situation until one of us attempts to eliminate the other preemptively.”
“And judging from your survival instincts, I assume you reached the same conclusion before presenting the alternative.”
Tobirama folded his arms loosely. “The second option is more rational.” The admission clearly displeased him. “You assist me in stabilising and understanding the technique. I ensure the knowledge does not survive beyond us. You return to your timeline. The matter ends there.”
If they proceeded with this research together, then his laboratory immediately became a problem.
Tobirama disliked problems.
His lab housed far more than unfinished theories and harmless experiments. Forbidden techniques lined those shelves. Prototype formulas. Sealing arrays. Half-completed jutsu capable of destabilizing entire battlefields if mishandled. Benzaiten alone was already catastrophic enough without placing it beside every other dangerous creation he had yet to fully perfect.
And now there was Orochimaru, a man from the future, leaving him unattended near those scrolls would be idiotic.
Tobirama exhaled slowly through his nose before reaching for the plate once more.
He would need another location. A temporary research site stripped of anything truly valuable. Perhaps one of the older outposts near the river valleys, far enough from the clan to avoid attention, yet close enough for Tobirama to return quickly if necessary.
“You may remain here temporarily,” he decided at last. “As a monitored guest.” Heavy emphasis on monitored. “You will answer my questions when necessary. You will not interfere with clan affairs. You will not alter events intentionally. And if I suspect, even once, that you are manipulating circumstances beyond Benzaiten…”
His chakra sharpened subtly in the room. “I will kill you before you become a problem future cannot correct.”
Then Tobirama took another bite of rice as though he had not just calmly discussed murdering a man displaced through time.
“…And if you are going to continue commenting on my eating and sleeping habits,” he added after a beat, voice quieter now, “then you may as well make yourself useful and prepare something less miserable than sealed ration rice.”
Another thought irritated Tobirama. Where exactly was Orochimaru supposed to stay?
Tobirama had spent most of his adult life alone by preference. Solitude was efficient and necessary for uninterrupted work. Even Hashirama’s presence could become exhausting after extended periods, and Hashirama at least possessed the decency to radiate sincerity instead of cryptic amusement.
Orochimaru, however, unsettled the air around him merely by existing.
The idea of sleeping in close proximity to him—
Sharing walls with a man capable of bypassing his barriers, slipping free from restraints, and speaking about the future with that calm, serpent-like cadence...
Tobirama disliked it profoundly. Because part of him would never fully relax. Not while Orochimaru remained nearby. And yet another, far more dangerous part of him was becoming increasingly curious and not merely academically. That was the truly irritating part.
“As for sleeping arrangements…” Tobirama paused, visibly displeased by the subject alone. The hideout was not particularly large.
Tobirama already regretted every possible outcome.