Work Text
The rain batters hard, miserably, against the roof of the cave that the three Sannin reside in. The sky stays the same stagnant grey, it always smells mildewy, and the rain just keeps on slamming bullets against the mud of the ground and the stone roof above them, and splashing into the entrance.
In one of the corners near the back of the cave, a dim green light glows, the sign of Tsunade using her medical ninjutsu to heal Jiraiya. It always happens to Jiraiya, the injuries. He’s far too stubborn and headstrong and won’t listen to anybody else, just charges in without a second thought. He never uses any cunning, and it takes a combined effort from Tsunade and Orochimaru to get him to sit down and listen to them.
Does he have cunning?
, they wonder sourly.
Briefly, they look back at their teammates. Tsunade appears like a magical healer of sorts, saintly and divine, the soft angles of her face radiant under the glow of her ninjutsu. Jiraiya smiles up at her, slumped against the rough walls of the cave. His face is weatherbeaten, rough, and tired, but he still holds his head high.
Orochimaru dislikes this image, greatly.
Jiraiya may think he’s strong by constantly putting himself in harm’s way, returning from each crusade with a new injury after just narrowly escaping death. This is foolish. That’s not what strength is. For Orochimaru, true strength would be ascending above death entirely. Real strength is possessing all knowledge, so that one could never even face the risk of death. Jiraiya talks a lot about true strength and perseverance, but really, the only thing that could ever be considered to hold true strength is a God. Jiraiya isn’t the strongest. He’s a headstrong fool. Of course, telling him this makes no difference, because headstrong fools will be headstrong and foolish, and ignore objective judgement.
Despite this, it doesn’t seem like Tsunade agrees.
She still leans in as Jiraiya murmurs something Orochimaru can’t make out because they’re so far away. Then she laughs, and so does he. Like parents. Orochimaru doesn’t like that either.
A good few years ago, when they were all self-absorbed and grappling with tweenage angst -when a war wasn’t hovering over their heads- that would have been Orochimaru and Tsunade. Sneaking off by themselves, rolling their eyes when Jiraiya attempted to make the moves on Tsunade. Since when did those two become so close? Those knowing glances Orochimaru and Tsunade give each other have become less and less frequent, and have been replaced with Tsunade’s eyes sparkling with admiration when Jiraiya speaks, while Orochimaru glowers sourly.
Another thing Orochimaru doesn’t like is change. Or at least, not the kind they can’t control.
The night, or day, moves on. It’s difficult to tell the exact time when the Hidden Rain seems to be stuck in a pocket dimension where a storm rages on eternally and everything bleeds into one.
“Orochimaru,” Tsunade calls out from her corner. She’s sitting with her legs hunched up to her chest. Jiraiya lies on the floor next to her, healing, but still injured. “You know, it’s getting late.”
“Is it? I can never tell with the weather.” Orochimaru replies, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“I mean, I think so,” she tilts her head and smiles a little. It’s almost cute, in a way. “But I think we need to rest. We should probably try to find wood to start a fire, don’t you agree?”
“We? But who will take care of Jiraiya if we’re both gone? He’s hardly in any fit condition to fend for himself.” Orochimaru always feels like they have to talk louder than normally when they’re in the Hidden Rain. The non-stop torrent of rain always feels like its muffling them.
Jiraiya sighs and props himself up by leaning on his arm. “Orochimaru, I’m sure I’ll be fine. You two go on ahead. It’d be worse if one of you got ambushed by yourselves out in the wild with nobody to protect you, than if I was attacked in this cave,” he assures them good-naturedly.
Orochimaru suppresses an eye-twitch. Jiraiya always wants to play the hero. While some consider this trait admirable or endearing, it just irritates Orochimaru.
“Alright then, if you’re sure,” Tsunade says, and rises from her position next to Jiraiya. She stretches her neck from either side, cracks her knuckles, and walks over to stand by Orochimaru’s side. “I’m sure we won’t be gone long.”
With that, the two of them depart. As expected, their environment is nearly impossible to navigate with the poor weather, but there’s a small section of woods about ten minutes away. Perhaps they’ll be able to salvage some dry wood, even if it seems like everything else is drenched.
Within five minutes, they are already soaking wet. Tsunade’s stray hairs are sticking to her damp forehead, and she shivers a little as they try as quickly as possible to get to the trees. Meanwhile, much to their dissatisfaction, Orochimaru’s long black curtain of hair is dripping wet.
When they arrive under the branches of the forest, shielded from the awful weather, Tsunade and Orochimaru properly look at each other. Tsunade bites her lip, as if suppressing a laugh.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she smiles.
Orochimaru is not impressed. “What is it, Tsunade?”
“Oh, it’s just- Orochimaru, you look like a wet cat!”
As Tsunade’s laughter rings through the trees, Orochimaru folds their arms impatiently. They aren’t particularly happy with their current predicament, and Tsunade’s teasing isn’t helpful. Tsunade’s smiles are soft and sweet and endearing, in a way, even if she’s being a pain right now. Still, they prefer to maintain their cool exterior.
Instead they sigh and take a step forward. “Look, we better be quick with this. We can only leave Jiraiya on his own for so long.”
“Right,” Tsunade nods, and the two each start rooting through the bottom branches of the dark trees and bushes surrounding them, trying to find the driest wood possible. Orochimaru gets to work on a huge bush to their left, covered in hard, spiked leaves.
After a brief moment of quiet filled only by the rain, Tsunade raises her voice. “Orochimaru,” she begins, using immense strength to snap off a tree branch that had been saved from the skyfall above, “You’re always so cold towards Jiraiya, but you still care about him.”
“That sounds as if it should be a question.”
“No, I’m saying it as a fact,” she continues, “You can act as irritated as you want around him, but you still value him as our team member.”
Orochimaru scoffs. “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up.”
“Why not? I’m just saying. You’re concerned about leaving him alone for too long. That means something.”
“I value the skills he brings to this team. We wouldn't be as strong without him, and I’d prefer if the three legendary Sannin wasn’t whittled down to two. As for Jiraiya himself, I find him insufferable. He’s an idiot.”
“But you’re the strongest out of all of us. You could easily hold your own in battle.”
“And I’m stronger with others by my side. Obviously.” They snap off another branch irritably. “Tsunade, why do you insist on forcing some kind of comradery between us? I’ve never been interested in him. You never used to get along with him either.”
The rain continues to patter harder than ever against the trees. Only small specks of light manage to make their way through, patches of brightness revealed on the soiled ground. “Not all of us are stuck at twelve years old,” she replies lightly, “We’re in a war now. I have to value my connections while I can. I’ve grown to like him, in a way.”
“I’ve noticed,” they comment dryly, “I saw you two getting awfully close earlier today.” The words feel harsh and bitter as soon as they leave Orochimaru’s mouth, and in the distance, they hear a roll of thunder interrupting the constant downpour of rain, about to twist the grey clouds and dark skies into something much uglier.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Interpret it how you want.”
“I was just healing him.”
“Of course.”
Tsunade stands up impatiently, tucking another piece of wood under her arm. Her face is almost pained. “Fine. You don’t have to like Jiraiya. I’m not making you do anything. But don’t force that onto me. Just because you’re so determined to get through this war on your own doesn’t mean I have to do the same. I’ve lost people I love.”
Nawaki Senju.
“Why shouldn’t I try and soldier through it with the remaining people in my life by my side?”
“We should probably head back now. I’m sure we have enough firewood. There’s a storm brewing, you know.”
“Stop trying to change the subject,” Tsunade continues, starting to sound annoyed, “Make the most of the people around you while you can, Orochimaru. You don’t know when they’ll be taken from you.”
Orochimaru scowls at her. Somehow, the one person who can always get to them is Tsunade. They can ignore Jiraiya’s foolish, nonsensical babbling about friendship and teamwork, no problem. Jiraiya was a war orphan who barely knew his parents when they were taken from him. He’s lucky, in that regard. Tsunade was already deeply attached with Nawaki when he passed, like Orochimaru when their family was killed. She should know how they feel. Why is she so unempathetic?
“In case you forgot, my parents died too,” they bite back, “So don’t try and lecture me on
my
coping skills. I’d have thought you were clever enough to understand that.”
“I’m telling you this
because
I understand you. You think that because your family died, it's not worth making other connections beyond the ones you’ve already got. It’s…” Tsunade pauses. Orochimaru can sense she’s turning something over in her head, debating if she should say it.
“Go on,” Orochimaru pushes darkly.
“...It’s immature. You need people around you to keep pushing forward in this world.” She looks uncomfortable, and she shifts from one foot to the other. She glances downwards, trying to avoid Orochimaru’s harsh gaze.
“
I’m immature.
” They repeat slowly. “Of
course
that’s what it is. Need I remind you that you’re a medical ninja, not a psychiatrist? Stop talking as if you know me so well.”
The worst part of it all, is that for now, Tsunade is the person who knows Orochimaru the most. Even if she spends more and more time with Jiraiya as of late. Even if a war has taken over their lives. Orochimaru is so used to being cold, objective, logical, intelligent. But when Tsunade manages to pull their feelings from deep inside them and lay them out in front of them like a doctor extracting tapeworm, something burns inside them.
Sure, humiliation is a part of it. Nobody likes having their innermost thoughts being spelled to them out by another person. But at the same time, it’s something more. Something Orochimaru doesn’t like to focus on too much, because unlike being cold and objective and logical and intelligent, it’s something they’re not used to.
Perhaps it’s the control aspect. In the dead of night, they lie awake, thinking they would like to live forever and ever and ever, in the same youthful body, growing stronger by the day, learning more and more- all to
preserve
. Preservation is the most beautiful thing in the world to Orochimaru. Yet, for Orochimaru to preserve, they would have to be caught up in a paradox of eternal change, like the snake shedding its skin, just to continue to live on. Well, that's a sacrifice they would be willing to make, if it was possible for a human to live forever. After all, it would be Orochimaru conducting the change. Not like Tsunade coming to interrupt that, threatening it all by pulling up unnecessary
feelings
.
“We’re close, Orochimaru,” Tsunade says, “We know each other, very well, in fact. We’re teammates. Does that not mean anything now?”
“For goodness’ sake, you’re starting to sound like
him,
now.”
“You mean Jiraiya?” Tsunade laughs dumbfoundedly, “Oh great, we’re back to square one again. This is so
pointless
. What’s your problem?”
Sourly, Orochimaru just glowers at Tsunade.
“Are you jealous or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
No. Possibly. Probably not.
“So what is it then?”
There’s that same burning sensation again. Like acid melting away at metal, twisting it out of shape and eating away.
What’s that called? A sticky, tepid feeling that rots away one's insides?
Orochimaru sighs. For a moment, they feel like they might actually say something.
Do I… love you, Tsunade?
Then, there’s another huge roll of thunder, and the downpour gets even heavier. The crashing sound interrupts anything Orochimaru might have said. That’s what Jiraiya means-
young thunder
. Even when it’s just the two of them, somehow he always manages to get between Orochimaru and Tsunade.
“Shit,” Tsunade shakes her head, “Seems like lightning might be on the way soon. We’d best get out of here. It’s dangerous to be near trees in a storm.”
“Very well, then.”
Orochimaru swallows the burning acid back down, leaving it to rot and ruminate away at their guts some more. It’s easier that way. The moment of vulnerability is lost. Orochimaru allows the thunder to bury the suspended question of love. Within the storm’s embrace, Orochimaru finds solace, as their unspoken words remain unheard.