He doesn’t need to reveal a great deal of emotion for them to catch the displeasure in his tone. The little reprimand that easily manages to jar them, and all their pride and deepest engrained belief that they needed to be the best at everything. So quick to claim the opinions of others did not matter much to them, yet even quicker to put on a show if people were looking, or to prove people wrong when words were unflattering. Being the Hokage’s genius renegade only proved a fun title to carry until the isolation they felt so terribly throughout youth became deafeningly more true and acute. Was this simply a case of their more primitive self deeming any attention was good attention?
They dare not to believe they may have fallen so low in to the more basic human instincts. To shatter their own illusion that they had stepped so very far from the design they were born in to, that they were not quite as self created as they may have liked. A careful balance, of wanting to experience it all, to have it all, yet potentially losing everything instead. Still, what was worse? Admitting to sloppiness? Or admitting to intentional sloppiness for attention?
Their smug expression only falters for a second, but it is a second they know Danzo will be able to detect. That his displeasure was contagious, even if they are quick to replace that genuine amusement with something more put on, masterfully so, but false all the same.
“Sound advice, if only it occurred to me without your ingenious wisdom,” they say, a sarcastic drawl, as their gaze flickers to the the darkened hallway from which the man came, as if inspecting to see if anyone else was in fact coming, or perhaps, feigning vigilance for a moment of broken eye contact, “it was of course, out of my hands by the time I realized others were catching on, you speak as if my capture was purposeful. Surely you don’t think so very little of me.”
They watch next as he begins to unravel a key from his cloak, golden eyes finally perking up again at the first sign of freedom. As much fun as it had been terrorizing those who dared try confine them like a rabid dog, it was certainly more entertaining to be rid of all the heavy and weighted restraints. His chiding about their scathing gaze - something undeniably purposeful at times - has them scoffing softly. A wry huff of laughter that falls from their muzzled lips almost silkily.
“The day wolves hide their teeth to avoid scaring the sheep, will be the day I sit pretty and apologetic Danzo-sama,” the serpent says, a sound of indigence carrying the rasp to their voice, a subtly exaggerated breath following, as if it were tiresome to be told the same thing over and over - for they certainly weren’t about to start heeding that continued bit of advice. Not when Hiruzen told them worryingly, not when their comrades told them jokingly, and not when Danzo told them with a bite of logic, “why am I to soften myself for the timid? They will find reasons to hate or vilify me either way, I ought to reap the benefits of my own reputation, if I am destined to earning the consequences regardless.”
They watch as he steps in to their cell, the first shinobi to do so confidently, the rest having entered this space as if stepping in to a cage housing lion. As if even chained to the floor, merely setting foot on this ground had made it the serpents domain. His hands move to rid them of the mouth mask, the slight markings of red grazing the side of porcelain white skin on the corners of their mouth and cheekbones, a clear struggle. They draw back the moment he pulls the mask forward as if to aid in its removal, a slight shake of their head to pry the ink black hair stuck on the material off and back to themself. A handless endeavor while still shackled.
“It may be ambitious to try and recreate Sensei’s thoughts, even for someone like you,” they say, for they could not admit they felt it in their own best interest to have their mentor remember the little altercation. To have slashed the final bit of pride the man may have still held for them. How they stubbornly try and believe they no longer care for his approval, yet can not swallow the bitter taste that coats their tongue everytime they see the look in his eyes. The way his face had fallen, looking both horrified, and yet not shocked. Not out of his realm of imagination then, that they could do unspeakable things.
He hadn’t been wrong about them, but it would have certainly brought them more peace knowing he had been.
The plan is evidently well devised for such short notice, a quick replacement between the real serpent and a decoy using a masterful henge. Chakra indistinguishable from one another, when Danzo has completed a simple looking seal, that is truly anything but simple. There is no cautiousness to their own behaviour when he moves to place a hand to their body, when they watch ink run down his arms in animation and carve a brand in to their chest. A strange sensation, unpleasant but not ever falling in to actual discomfort.
Empty is the decoys personality, a perfect soldier reporting for duty, ready to resume a role of falsity. Impressive, if not eerie with the puppet like demeanor. The key is then placed in to their slender hand, when the shackles are moved from their own person to their current doppelgangers.
There isn’t even a slight delay, before locking the other shinobi inside the cage behind them to follow Danzo out. For their life, simply put, was worth more than the operative now taking their place. Something they should not sit as well with them as it does. Yet it is not out of vanity they deem it so. Not at all. It is perhaps, a sense of entitlement. That having earned their usefulness through blood, sweat and tears, what they paid in the past earning them a future favor from a man as resourceful as the Shimura.
Following him out, they are quick to place themself under henge, taking the image of the man they had just traded places with, as to merge rather seamlessly with Danzo’s trick of swapping chakra signatures.
The way he words himself, ‘remain with me tonight’, makes them feel more like a scolded dog than anything else. A nuisance that had been too riled up or badly mannered, and was now his little responsibility to contend with. As if they are being passed between Hiruzen and Danzo’s care and custody, a menacing wild pet to contend with.
“And where exactly will we be staying while I fall under your supervision?” they ask, the irritation they felt to the belittling comment not largely noticeable in their voice, yet not entirely cast aside either, “most of my hiding places have been uncovered, I assume you don’t want to risk bringing me in to one of yours.”
Given a less inconvenient situation than this one, there might have been something like a sliver of amusement at their antics; however, what this situation spells for Danzō in particular is enough to snuff any inkling of levity right out. Orochimaru’s experiments are vital to him, and for them to get caught and show the absolute opposite of remorse spells their imminent exile, whether that exile is self-declared or mandated by Hiruzen. All in all, it poses a great inconvenience for this bright star of progress to end up distanced from him.
So he doesn’t offer even the softest huff of amusement at their sarcastic remarks. They need to know that they have committed a grave error, and judging by the cracks in their overly proud visage—that indication of a superiority that delighted in causing chaos and terror wilting—is slight but certainly enough.
They understand, and so the Shimura feels no further need to labour the point. Their continued alliance requires careful handling, especially if his suspicions regarding their insecurities prove to be correct. That in losing the faith and affections of Hiruzen, something fundamental in them was now disrupted, adrift in emotions they don’t know how to control and thus have manifested in petty acts of spite and cries for attention.
How foolish of Hiruzen it had been, to favour this one so specifically. Danzō was afflicted with no shadow of a doubt that his feelings for the young serpent had been genuine, if not confused. Pity, sorrow, guilt, a hint of fatherly instinct…
He couldn’t understand it, personally.
But that didn’t mean he was incapable of seeing the bright glimmer of opportunity in that misguided love, now that it had been withdrawn. It didn’t mean he was incapable of supplanting his old friend, in some capacity. Of course, that would require subtlety and careful treatment—clearly quite the opposite of where Orochimaru’s psyche was directing them at present.
❝Ah, but you could have continued to feast on those sheep if you’d acted with subtlety. We are shinobi, after all. Our inner workings must appear on the surface as natural as a ripple on the water pushed on by the breeze. And like that breeze, whether or not we are blamed for those ripples matters not. Only that we performed our intention in moving the tides.❞
Why is it, Hiruzen, that I’m teaching this basic fact to your finest student? Why is it that I’m the one coddling them now?
He sighs, in what is perhaps a greater show of genuine feeling than he would normally show. On that note, he certainly is saying more than he usually would, too. All in the name of seizing the opportunity.
❝I don’t think so little of you, Orochimaru, but I do believe you’re currently being blinkered by your emotions. The sting of betrayal will do that, even to the most stalwart shinobi.❞
After executing his plan with swift efficiency, the two spare no time in retracing Danzō’s earlier steps through the dank corridor, and the shadows that had accompanied him, having completed their cover-up tasks, follow close behind like voiceless wraiths. With the important part completed, and Orochimaru’s chakra seeming not to have moved beyond the confines of their former cell, he breathes deeply of the air outside, crisp and fragrant.
❝You didn’t reveal the connection of these investigations to me, and for that you have my gratitude.❞
That much, at least, is more than mere flattery. Without his Cursed Tongue Eradication Seal, Orochimaru would have been at full liberty to lay the blame at his feet. To say that those experiments were all ordered by him. As adept as Danzō was at covering his tracks, there were certain things that would only draw more suspicion had they been smothered over—such as allocated funding for facilities Hiruzen knew to be in use, along with numerous other little details to exploit. Even he couldn’t pull every string in the arsenal, as much as he desired to.
❝My assumption is that you won’t be attempting to claw back forgiveness or the right to remain in Konohagakure, yes?❞ He asks the question, but his matter-of-fact tone gives it more the air of a statement. Something about that continued attitude of theirs rankles him, but given their clearly wounded pride and their fall from whatever glory they’d thus far perceived in infamy, he’ll just have to swallow it. A snide remark very nearly makes it past his lips when Orochimaru adjusts their appearance, something about them being capable of subtlety after all, but in light of his following statement, it’s better that he didn’t. ❝That being the case, I don’t see why all bridges should be burned. Your ambitions are your own, and conflict in no way with my own goals. I’d like to continue working together closely. You needn’t worry about where we go, or what risk it may pose to me, only that you keep the secret as close as the blood in your veins.❞
Indeed, even if they were to be followed at all in the journey they embarked through shadowy streets, even if the interludes of emerging into a somewhat lighter black as they were forced into the open drew curious eyes, nothing good would come of succumbing to that curiosity. Danzō didn’t go anywhere without faithful ROOT operatives maintaining a silent vigil at every corner or in the boughs of every seemingly vacant tree, ready to detain or alter the experiences of the curious without so much as an order whispered on his part.
Thus do they make it beyond Konoha’s boundary with no incident. Even when they delve ever deeper into the surrounding woods with silent leaps from branch to branch, far from the beaten track more frequently favoured by shinobi returning from their missions, only the minute and occasional rustles of an arm or shoulder grazing against fine branches or hanging leaves can be heard.
By the time Danzō gestures for them to stop, hours have passed. Only he is capable of making this journey in such a short time, for he’d discovered it long, long ago, and journeyed here many times thereafter. By all outside appearances, one would assume it to be an ordinary shrine. Not even double his own height in any direction, and carved with ornate images of the creature that was alleged to dwell deep in thick forested areas such as this, it may seem baffling at first that this could be considered a shelter in any sense. But it was some miles back that the ghosts on their trail had split off to secure the perimeter, for even they weren’t permitted to see this place.
It occurs to the Shimura, of course, that bringing the serpent here could be considered an egregious display of faith in them. However, for all he’d claimed they need not worry about the security of their refuge for the untold stretch of time it would take to iron everything out, there had never been any such thing as ‘too careful’ in his eyes. And this place was about as secure as one could ever hope for. A secret he now shared with only one.
Upon approaching the aged wooden door, he pricks his thumb and weaves a number of hand seals concealed to their eye, then places his right palm on the door. It slides open, revealing to the pair a descending stone stair choked with moss in every crack, which Danzō gestures them to descend so that he may seal it shut behind them.
They are plunged into darkness, forced to feel their way down the stair. But when they reach the bottom, the narrow tunnel opens out into a large cavern filled with ornate pillars and iconography wrought into the natural stone. Trees that emit a pale glow light up the dim space a little, but the main source of light is situated in the roof of the grotto itself, where despite all logic, a crystal clear pond sits. One would almost think it was a mirror, if not for the occasional ripples caused by some unknown force. Tinged lavender, and with the reflection of the moon and stars reflected in—or perhaps contained within—its glassy surface, it lends a definite otherworldliness to this underground temple and its verdant surroundings that banishes the idea of it ever being wrought by human hands.
Treading silently over a ground covered with inexplicably vibrant, cropped, springy grass, Danzō leads them over a bridge spanning a clear stream. Comparatively speaking, he doesn’t quite seem to fit into such a wondrous place, or perhaps it’s the absolute lack of ceremony on his part that gives that impression. But they soon find themselves at the door of a small house raised from the ground on decking, which he invites Orochimaru to enter with a polite gesture.
❝I trust you’ll find this ‘hiding place’ secure enough.❞
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