Chapter Text
It was traditionally a time of celebration, when a child’s soulmark first bloomed on their skin. It meant their soulmate was out there waiting for them, a promise that whatever else happened they weren’t alone in the world. Parents bought cakes decorated with the mark, distributed cards, and generally shared their relief that their child now had someone waiting.
Of course it didn’t always work that way. Some parents raged that their child would be stolen from them, or despaired over a soulmark that seemed to indicate a clan or personality type they didn’t want as an inlaw. Others became callous as their child grew and never gained a mark at all. Orochimaru’s parents hadn’t lived long enough to see him grow up without one, but he likes to think they would have been the supportive type, who didn’t bring him to astrologist or Yamanaka mind healers to try and find that one reading that would ‘fix’ him. But he supposed he’d never know for sure.
Still, watching as Jiraiya struggled to decipher the mark on his shoulder for years, only to despair as it faded without him ever finding the one attached to it? As Tsunade found the man marked by hers, only to destroy herself when he died? Perhaps it was better he never received one of his own. It was a boon when Danzo requested a full recounting of identifying marks and Orochimaru could laugh in his face, the older man wouldn’t discover his soulmate mark included in that report. He’d have to find some other form of control.
Orochimaru worked and built himself up to greater heights of study, making up for a life destined to belong to no one by belonging solely to himself. Being worthy of himself. And as those he cares for leave him one after the other, even Sarutobi-sensei pulling away after a time, it’s almost enough to convince him he’s happier alone anyway.
He’s in his 30s when it happens, a little over a week before his birthday with no one to tell and a severe distrust of anyone wanting to know. Just below his collarbone - a red circle cut through with black angles and lines. A Sharingan perhaps, though not one he’s ever seen before. And he doesn’t want to care, doesn’t want to think about a soulmate more than 30 years younger - only now entering the world. But he can’t ignore it, has to make sure it’s covered in all situations Danzo might find out about, so the thoughts creep into his head.
There’s something morally reprehensible about experimenting on children when your own soulmate is a child. For the first time in years, he balks, gets sloppy, and lets things slip. The Mokuton experiment destroys itself the way all other attempts had, and he stands back to watch before moving on. But he’s suspicious now, second guessing himself where before he was sure. Within a few years Danzo overreaches himself, trying to recruit Hatake and failing, coming one last time to cut off communication between them. Just for a while, he says, but Orochimaru knows Sarutobi is craftier than that, it’s the last time. He needs a plan.
“Are you here to kill me?” He greeted them with a grin, as Sarutobi and his ANBU break into the lab.
“What have you done, Orochimaru?” The Professor demanded, stepping defensively in front of his own guard. “Experimenting on your fellow Konoha shinobi. Kidnapping children. Have you truly fallen so far?”
“But all of this was done on your orders, Sarutobi-sensei,” the Sannin complained, gesturing around him with both hands. Not much of a buffer when dealing with a ninja of his skill, but they’d at least have the chance to realize he was acting before he cast a jutsu. He hopes his old teacher at least appreciates it.
“How can you accuse me of such a thing with a straight face!” Hiruzen demanded angrily. “Do you honestly believe I would stoop so low as to order experiments on our own shinobi? On children, Orochimaru!”
“I never asked why,” Orochimaru mused consideringly. “But, it all started with the Mokuton. If it could protect the village from a future disaster of that strength, I think you’d pay any cost. After all, if only we had a user of the Wood Release that night, dear Minato would not have died. Let alone Lady Biwako, your own wife. You’d be surprised what a ninja would do when faced with the loss of a soulmate.”
“And I suppose you would know?” The older ninja suggested, eyes narrowing at his former pupil. Orochimaru’s smile just widened.
“Now sensei, you think so ill of me. What was it? Only time can heal an injured heart, hmm?”
“I see,” Sarutobi said, considering the Snake Sannin suspiciously for a moment longer. Then he waved for his guards to stand down. “Orochimaru, you will report the names of every Konoha shinobi who was brought to your lab,” he ordered firmly.
“Oh, I never knew their names,” the younger ninja dismissed the command. “Easier to take them apart if I didn’t think of them as people, names weren’t to be provided. Only the trait I was supposed to be studying or extracting.”
“And who would know better?” the Hokage demanded impatiently. “This is no time for games, Orochimaru!”
“Oh, the ANBU I suppose,” Orochimaru told him with a shrug, “They brought them here after all. Or perhaps your dear comrade kept a list of who to send me, I wouldn’t know.” He grinned as Sarutobi’s eyes narrowed further.
“If you’re implying he was involved…”
“Who else?” The younger man interrupted cheerfully, “After all, you would trust no one else to do what needed to be done, whatever the cost. Right, Sarutobi-sensei?”
The Hokage’s eye twitched and his fists clenched slightly before he sighed and turned to address the ANBU accompanying him. “You two, stay here and secure the lab. I will be taking Orochimaru in myself.”
“But, Lord Third, we can’t just leave you alone!”
“Don’t worry,” He reassured them with a smile. “My student won’t let anything happen to me. Isn’t that right, Orochimaru?”
“Of course,” the ninja in question agreed with a less than reassuring smile of his own, but the Third just nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Kakashi met them outside, itching for a fight as soon as he saw the Sannin emerge, but Sarutobi ordered him to stand down. He shadowed them back to the Hokage’s quarters, and would have followed them inside as well if Hiruzen hadn’t firmly ordered him back out to guard the door.
“Now,” His former sensei said with a sigh, crossing his arms. “Show me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” The Sannin began, but the older ninja cut him off.
“Don’t play coy with me, Orochimaru. You implied it when you mentioned Biwako, show me now. Prove you have a reason to change, and I’ll believe everything you told me tonight. If you refuse I’m well within my rights to hand you over to T&I and get my answers that way.”
“Oh, very well,” Orochimaru sighed dramatically and pulled off his vest, tossing it carelessly aside. He hesitated over the shirt though, years spent making sure he was never uncovered where anyone could see warring with his need to be believed, to be allowed to stay and discover his soulmate. “You will tell no one,” he demanded finally, turning to glare at his mentor.
“You have my word,” Sarutobi agreed, and Orochimaru gave him one last searching look before pulling off his shirt.
It was the size of a thumbprint, only round, and far enough below the collar of his shirt that it wouldn’t show, even if he’d pulled it down. One of the reasons he’d stopped wearing fishnet shirts, actually. Sarutobi studied the black and red circle for a long moment, then nodded quietly.
“Orochimaru… what I am about to tell you does not leave this room.”
“Why so secretive, Sensei? You don’t trust me?”
“I’m serious, Orochimaru! This cannot end up in the ears of another soul, or as a variable in one of your experiments! It is a secret passed down to me directly from the Second Hokage, kept secret lest it tear the whole village apart.”
“Well then, you have my word.”
Hiruzen hesitated for a long moment, studying his student for any sign of deceit, but when none was forthcoming he gave in.
“There is another form of the Sharingan known only to a select few, even in the Uchiha clan. This form no longer has the tomoe we associate with the clan’s ocular jutsu, instead bearing varying geometric designs. No rendition of these eyes has been made outside the Uchiha clan, with only the strongest of their enemies surviving to tell of it’s existence. And only a few Uchiha each generation unlock such terrible power, for the cost is witnessing the loss of a beloved loved one. Or at least it was for Madara Uchiha, and he is the Uchiha the Second witnessed gaining the ability.”
“And you believe this may be another?” Orochimaru inferred, studying the mark with new interest. “Surely they are too young to have unlocked it already, but my mark is a rendition of their future eye?”
“I believe so,” Sarutobi agreed somberly. “However it will be difficult to discover who they are, especially with how quickly the village turned on them after the attack. The Uchiha have never been that trusting of outsiders.”
“You underestimate me, sensei,” Orochimaru replied with a grin. “When have you ever known me to give up so easily?”
“That is true,” Sarutobi agreed with a fond smile. He nodded for Orochimaru to hide his mark again. “But for now you will tell me everything about Danzo and his orders on my behalf.”
“As you wish,” Orochimaru agreed and obeyed. But only to a point. Only ever to a point.