Orochimaru Hideout
Sasuke's consciousness clawed its way back to the surface, his mind sluggish, as if surfacing from deep water. His eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by the remnants of sleep, or was it something else? The last thing he remembered is the void between dimensions, Hagoromo's voice murmuring in his consciousness, something about Time travel...?
Sasuke's eyes snapped open—sharp, alert, instantly taking in the dim stone ceiling above him.
What? Where... where am I?
He sat up slowly, the rough fabric of the faded blue blanket sliding off his torso. The air was cold and damp, the scent of old stone and candle wax thick in his lungs. His fingers flexed against the thin mattress beneath him, grounding himself in the sensation. This wasn't the battlefield. This wasn't the future. This was—
Orochimaru's hideout.
His Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan flickered to life instinctively, the crimson glow cutting through the dimness as he scanned the room. The walls were carved stone, etched with serpentine patterns that seemed to writhe in the flickering candlelight. A single door, reinforced with iron, stood slightly ajar. The bed beneath him was simple and practical, exactly what Orochimaru would provide for a fascinating test subject.
Sasuke exhaled through his nose, pushing himself to his feet. His body felt... right. The same height, the same weight, the same strength and presence he remembered from the end of the war. No sudden lightness, no awkward imbalance. Just the familiar frame of his seventeen-year-old self, exactly as he had been.
He lifted a hand, examining his fingers. The faint scars, the hardened muscle, the small callouses from endless training. They were all still there. This wasn't a younger version of him. It was him. The exact version plucked from just after the war, now dropped back into an earlier point in time.
Nothing different...
He pulled on the chakra in his left eye, feeling it immediately.
The Rinnegan.
A slow, disbelieving smirk curled at the edge of his mouth.
Hagoromo's time-space jutsu had worked. He hadn't simply been sent back. He had replaced his past self entirely. As the Sage had warned, no two versions of the same soul could exist in one timeline. So the younger Sasuke was gone. In his place stood the war-hardened one, with all his power intact.
This was fantastic news.
He stepped forward, sandaled feet silent against the cold stone floor. His palm pressed against the wall, tracing the grooves of the carvings. The texture was familiar, Orochimaru's aesthetic... always so dramatic, Sasuke thought amusedly.
That, at least, he could approve of, perhaps the one thing his former teacher had good taste in.
First order of business, however...
He could feel it. The sheer, overwhelming depth of his chakra, coiled like a storm beneath his skin. It was intoxicating, the kind of strength that could level mountains and reshape battlefields. He could raze this hideout to the ground with a single flick of his wrist if he wished.
But that wasn't the goal. He had to restrain himself. No need to announce his presence. Not yet.
His Rinnegan pulsed subtly, the violet hue barely visible beneath the dim candlelight as he exerted perfect control, reigning in the vast ocean of his chakra until it was nothing more than a quiet hum beneath the surface.
Once he was sure his chakra no longer remained detectable, his thoughts shifted to the primary reason he had returned. The Akatsuki.
Black Zetsu. Obito. Pain. Madara. The Ten-Tails. The Infinite Tsukuyomi.
He had lived through their destruction once already. He had watched the world nearly crumble beneath their machinations. That group had to be eliminated in its entirety, at once, properly, and thoroughly before any of its members could slip away.
The first problem, however, was the lack of information.
He knew precisely how to lure in Obito and Zetsu. Pain, the 'leader', was a little different from the rest. Sasuke had never met or talked to Naruto about the man. As such, the intel Sasuke had on Pain was too little to make use of.
His former teacher had always been a snake, slithering through the shadows, collecting secrets like a miser hoarding gold. The Snake Sannin absolutely had information on the Akatsuki. Not everything, no—Orochimaru had always been kept at arm's length by Akatsuki's leadership as far as Sasuke could garner from the mad scientist's mutterings—but enough. Enough whispers, enough fragments of their movements to give Sasuke a starting point. Specifically, the location of Pain would suffice for now.
He rose smoothly, his movements unhurried. The door creaked faintly as he pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit hallway. The hideout was silent, save for the distant drip of water against stone. Torchlight's casting long, twisting shadows flickered throughout the corridor, the primary source of light.
Sasuke's Sharingan spun lazily, drinking in the darkness as he walked. His footsteps made no sound.
He didn't need to search. He could feel Orochimaru's presence—that oily, unnatural, revolting chakra, coiled somewhere deeper in the labyrinth. He had spent years under that monster's guidance, the way that man had slithered into his life, whispering poison, offering power at the cost of his very soul. Sasuke had once been desperate enough to take that deal.
When he found that man—
Well.
The snake had always been so fond of experiments.
Perhaps it was time he became one.
After all, Sasuke had created a version of his brother's Tsukuyomi. All that was required was a test subject.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Orochimaru loved his life. Some people may even say a little too much, but he would disagree.
A man who lived on Earth as a shinobi left very little after his death. He would be swept by the Earth into a cold, dark grave, alone and forgotten by those who remained in the world of the living.
The names of great warriors and accomplished individuals, such as the Kages or daimyos, were once revered and whispered with awe and admiration. But as the years pass and memories blur, the stories that once sang of heroic exploits and mighty deeds would gradually be replaced by new narratives, new heroes, and new eras. It was the natural rhythm of existence, the cycle of life and death.
Orochimaru wanted to be the one to break this cycle, to be on top, to be the one to conquer death—a fate shared by all.
Traumatized by war and bearing witness to the thousands of wasteful shinobi lives snuffed out by numerous conflicts, Orochimaru discarded banal values such as morals and principles to accomplish one of his most ambitious dreams… immortality.
However, in order to achieve such greatness and live in a world where the weak were ruthlessly crushed under the oppressors, one must also seek out power.
Power allowed a man to do as he pleased, the ultimate enabler. Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama were the pinnacles of such men, men who flattened mountains with their prowess, men who were unable to be killed by any ordinary shinobi—only by themselves or by another who possessed similar power.
A key similarity between the two legendary figures was that both of them boasted legendary bloodlines. The Sharingan and the wood-style Kekkei Genkai.
Orochimaru salivated at the prospect of obtaining either of the two powerful abilities. However, most of his attempts bore no fruit.
Orochimaru discarded his search for a shinobi who utilized the elusive wood style on the scale of someone as powerful as Hashirama. He knew such an individual would be impossible to find with the Senju clan nearly extinct. His failed human experiments destroyed another possible path to success.
Individuals who claimed ownership of the Uchiha bloodline were also very few since Itachi's murder frenzy in Konoha.
Since his failed attempt at obtaining Itachi's body, Orochimaru decided to sink his claws into the more revenge-obsessed younger brother, who, despite exhibiting immense talent, was far too easy to manipulate and take advantage of. It was only a matter of time before he took over the boy's body and obtained the glorious bloodline.
Truly, Sasuke was a fool for willingly giving up his entire life for only revenge. If only—
The door to his laboratory creaked open, interrupting the rogue Sannin from testing his latest concoction, a vial of liquid that enhanced Shinobi's performance on the battlefield.
Orochimaru's golden, serpentine eyes flicked toward the door, his thin lips curling into an amused smirk. Ah, the little Uchiha finally wakes. He had expected Sasuke to be unconscious for at least another day after the last training session. The boy's body had been pushed to its limits, his chakra reserves drained. But his latest vessel had always been stubborn.
"Ah, Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru purred, setting the vial down with deliberate care. "I was just thinking about you. How...fortuitous."
His voice was smooth, dripping with false warmth, the kind of tone one might use to lull a prey animal into complacency before striking. He turned fully toward the door, his long, pale fingers steepling together.
"You should be resting," he chided lightly, though his gaze was sharp, dissecting. "Pushing yourself too hard will only hinder your progress. Unless, of course, you've come to ask for something...?"
Orochimaru's smirk faltered for the briefest moment as his golden eyes took in, really took in, the figure in the doorway.
The first thing that struck him was his appearance. Oh, this was 'Sasuke' no doubt, purely based on first impressions, but the height was unusual. 'Sasuke' was taller, just slightly, but enough to be noticeable.
His clothes were different too, the dark, high-collared cloak 'Sasuke' now wore was unfamiliar, its design more refined than anything the boy had ever chosen before.
Those weren't the noticeable differences, however.
His left eye is covered.
That was the second most glaring anomaly. Sasuke never covered his left eye. He flaunted the Sharingan and wielded it like a weapon, a constant reminder of the Uchiha heritage. Yet now, a single lock of hair obscured it completely.
And then—
The right eye. The most striking difference.
The tomoe were gone. In their place was a pattern far more intricate, far more captivating.
Mangekyou? Perhaps.
More than likely, it was an impostor trying to lull him, the Snake Sannin, into a false sense of security. However, it would seem his uninvited guest hadn't done his homework properly.
Orochimaru's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
Interesting.
"Now, now," he murmured, his voice a silken whisper. "Whoever you are, you've made a grave miscalculation." His fingers flexed subtly, chakra coiling beneath his skin, ready to strike. "Using Sasuke-kun's face was a bold choice. But I'm afraid there are certain details that you have undoubtedly missed."
A beat of silence.
Then—
The figure tilted his head, just slightly.
And chuckled.
It was a low, quiet sound, devoid of humor. Cold. Amused in the way a predator might be amused by the flailing of its prey.
The air shifted.
BOOM!
Orochimaru did not know when it happened or how it happened. All he knew was that a devastating blow sent him rocketing through several layers of wood, stone, and concrete until he could see the sun. The world continued to rush by with trees, bushes, and large rocks being nothing but a blur to his eyes. Time seemed to distort as his body collided with a jagged hilltop, a collision that offered searing pain.
He descended soon, gravity pulling him down. It was only his chakra that prevented Orochimaru's accelerated descent to the ground from proving fatal.
Orochimaru hit the ground with a sickening crunch, his body carving a deep furrow into the dry, cracked earth before finally skidding to a stop. Dust billowed around him, the impact sending a shockwave through his bones. His ribs screamed in protest, his vision swimming as he forced himself onto his hands and knees, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
What... was that?
He hadn't even seen the attack. One moment, he had been standing in his lab; the next, he was here, half-buried in the dirt, his body screaming in protest. His regeneration was already stitching his broken bones back together, but the sheer force of the blow had been beyond anything he had ever experienced.
A shadow fell over him.
Orochimaru lifted his head to glare at him.
The figure's overwhelming chakra flared.
The Snake Sannin nearly buckled at the sheer pressure that threatened to overwhelm him, yet there was no denying it now. The chakra signature was exactly how he remembered it, just a lot stronger, much stronger. This was Sasuke Uchiha, just not the Sasuke he knew.
This was something else entirely.
Sasuke tilted his head slightly, his gaze boring into Orochimaru with the detached curiosity of a scientist examining a particularly interesting specimen. "You are pathetic," he said, his voice low, almost bored.
Rage filled his body, but Orochimaru's mind raced. Escape. I need to escape.
With a flick of his wrist, he widened his palm towards Sasuke.
"Forbidden Art: One Thousand Snakes!"
His palm ruptured, a writhing tide of serpents exploding from his hands, their fangs bared, their bodies coiling toward Sasuke in a wave of scales and venom.
Sasuke didn't even move.
A single finger lifted.
A thin, precise stream of lightning lanced from his fingertip, splitting the air with a crackling snap. The bolt weaved through the swarm of snakes with surgical precision, reducing each one to charred, twitching husks before they could even reach him. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
Orochimaru didn't wait to see the aftermath. He was already moving, his body melting into the earth. Earth Release: Hiding Like a Mole Technique!
Underground. I can lose him underground.
He burrowed deeper, his chakra masking his presence, his movements silent. He would resurface miles away, regroup, heal himself, understand what had happened, and plan for what had happened.
A hand closed around his ankle.
Orochimaru's blood turned to ice.
Before he could react, he was yanked upward, the earth tearing apart around him as Sasuke hauled him back into the open air like a fisherman pulling a struggling catch from the depths.
Orochimaru twisted midair, his fingers flashing through seals—
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
A hurricane-force gust erupted from his mouth, the sheer force of it enough to shred stone. Sasuke didn't dodge. He didn't even flinch. The wind parted around him, as if repelled by an invisible barrier, the ground behind him torn to ribbons by the force of the blast.
How is he doing this?!
Orochimaru landed in a crouch, his golden eyes wide. That was a lot like the gravitational technique of the Akatsuki leader. Had Sasuke obtained the Rinnegan?
Impossible.
He could ponder that after he survived. He needed a distraction. Fast.
Three perfect replicas of himself burst into existence, each one darting in a different direction. One sprinted for the rocks, another dissolved into the ground, and the third lunged straight at Sasuke with a wind-chakra-laced kunai gleaming in his grip.
Sasuke's chakra pulsed.
A single, sweeping glance.
The clone charging him exploded into smoke, dispelled by a kunai thrown with such speed that Orochimaru hadn't even seen it leave Sasuke's hand. The one fleeing toward the rocks screamed as black flames erupted around it, Amaterasu consuming it in seconds. The Earth clone barely had time to reform before Sasuke was there, his hand closing around its throat.
The clone's eyes bulged.
Sasuke squeezed.
The clone imploded into nothing.
Orochimaru was already running.
No. No, no, no—
He couldn't fight. He couldn't hide. He couldn't escape.
For the first time in decades, Orochimaru felt something he had long since buried.
Fear.
Reverse Summoning Juts—
A hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Orochimaru spun, his arm elongating, his fingers stretching into writhing serpents that lunged for Sasuke's throat—
Sasuke's Sharingan made eye contact with him, a fatal mistake.
Orochimaru's body locked.
"You, one of the three legendary ninja, are well and truly pathetic," the boy once again repeated his previous insult to further twist the knife in the wound. "You couldn't handle my brother, so you went after me… the weaker one."
The smile the Uchiha wore was mocking and full of arrogance. His chin jutted upwards and his head back, fully looking down on him.
"I'm stronger than you, much stronger. I could end your very existence on a whim. So, I do not see a reason to hand over my body to an inferior Shinobi just to achieve my goals."
Sasuke's mouth twisted into a frown.
"But most importantly, you… disgust me. The way you revel in manipulating lives, disfiguring bodies, it sickens me," the boy continued. "Countless lives lost in your futile quest for power, all while deluding yourself into thinking you could match the brilliance of the Uchiha. But in truth, you are nothing more than a slithering serpent, nurturing a hawk. Your inevitable demise was sealed, despite your repulsive attempts to fill the void with drugs born from your monstrous experiments."
Before he could even attempt to retaliate, the world around them shifted and twisted, morphing into a sinister laboratory scene.
Agony exploded through Orochimaru's hands and legs, eliciting a guttural cry of pain that echoed through the room. His eyes widened with a mix of shock and horror as he realized he was immobilized, pinned to a bed with nails and chains.
The bed itself was pinned vertically, suspended on a stone wall. The room's dim lighting, provided by flickering candles, cast eerie shadows upon the figures that surrounded him.
To his dawning horror, Orochimaru recognized the subjects of his past experiments—the individuals from whom he had ruthlessly experimented to obtain the curse mark, more specifically, when he used Jugo. Their eyes filled with a mixture of anguish and vengeful fury.
Pure, unadulterated hatred coursed through his body for Sasuke. He knew that this was a genjutsu designed to amplify his suffering. Yet, the pain inflicted by the nails that bore into his flesh, the restraints that held him captive, was undeniably real.
"Killing would be a mercy for someone like you," the ominous voice of Sasuke echoed in the room.
Deformed men and women stood before him, tainted by Jūgo's partial Sage transformation, carrying scalpels, syringes, needles, and other medical tools he had used for careful experiments.
The nameless faces walked toward him with a sense of purpose, justice, and vengeance.
Hot, white agony seared through nearly every point in his body, and Orochimaru howled in pain as the human manifestations plunged their weapons into his skin. A man could place his hand on the nukenin, and he would feel no less than six bleeding wounds.
And as more and more vengeful apparitions closed in, Orochimaru realized the true price of his sins—an ending of suffering, a taste of the pain he had so callously inflicted upon others. At this moment, he knew there was no escape, no reprieve. He was going to meet his end.
Orochimaru, one of the three Legendary Ninja, Konoha's most wanted, would die screaming and wriggling, something he hadn't envisioned in years.