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Orochimaru first met Tobirama Senju when he was six years old.
Class had ended, but Orochimaru stayed behind, wanting to use the Academy’s training grounds for extra practice.
“Remember, nothing dangerous, and clean up any mess you make,” was all his teacher said, gathering up her papers and heading out. She didn’t bother supervising anymore. Orochimaru had earned enough trust for that – or rather, proved his competence sufficiently.
“I will, sensei,” he promised, and then she was gone.
Half an hour later, Orochimaru hissed in frustration. Ever since the biggest oaf in class started showing off fire jutsu, Orochimaru had dedicated himself to learning water release to douse the spirits of the hot-headed buffoon like he deserved. It was… not going well. And he didn’t know why! Oh, he hadn’t expected it to come as naturally to him as wind did – wind being his chakra affinity – but he’d mastered earth with much more ease.
“Your thinking is too rigid.”
Orochimaru spun, then quickly tucked the poisoned senbon back up his sleeve when he realised who it was. “Lord Hokage,” he said, bowing. The Nidaime glanced towards his sleeve and raised an eyebrow. Orochimaru fidgeted before forcing himself to still, but didn’t apologise. He was training to be a ninja – danger reflexes were sensible!
It turned out to be the right choice.
The Nidaime’s lips quirked, and he nodded in what looked like approval. “You’ll do.”
Orochimaru, who had been about to demand an answer to what “too rigid” meant, snapped his mouth closed, confused. “I’ll do for what?”
“Tsunade’s team. We’re nearing finalisation on selections. I wanted to meet my grandniece’s prospective teammates in person, to get a measure of them.”
There were still two months to go before graduation. Orochimaru would have expected talk of team combinations to be just getting started, not finishing up. It did not surprise him, however, that the Hokage was involved – the Nidaime was known for his particular interest in education. Nor did it surprise Orochimaru to learn whose team he was destined for, not really, even if he disliked it.
Oh, not Tsunade – she was tolerable enough. Well, sort of. She was bossy and violent, but she wasn’t an idiot, and that was Orochimaru’s main standard of tolerability. However, the reason he’d expected to be on a team with her was the unofficial ‘best male and female paired with lowest scorer’ rule. And that same rule meant he’d be on a team with the fire-spitting oaf, Jiraiya.
He silently despaired.
And then the despair evaporated – though it would no doubt return later – as he remembered that the Nidaime was here. Here, talking to him. Orochimaru felt a bit starstruck. He was usually above such nonsense, but the Nidaime was a genius, and knew so much, and maybe, if Orochimaru was lucky and polite enough, he might answer a few questions – starting with that earlier comment.
“Too rigid?” Orochimaru demanded, then winced. Right, polite.
…How did that work again?
Fortunately, the Nidaime either didn’t notice Orochimaru’s tone, or didn’t care. “Yes, it’s strange.” He crossed his arms. “Your chakra affinity is wind. If anything, I’d expect the opposite – for you to be used to a less rigid mindset.”
“It is wind,” Orochimaru said, mind racing. “And I did start out trying water release with the same free-flowing mindset, but when that didn’t work, I thought it might be more like earth – which isn’t my element, but I have mastered it – either because water’s more tangible than wind, or simply because chakra affinities which aren’t your own might require a firmer grasp to control?” He lilted his voice at the end, making it a question. It wasn’t anything he’d read anywhere, just a theory.
The Nidaime hummed. “Interesting idea,” he said, “but no. I’d say you’ve just gone too far from one extreme to the other.”
It all clicked for Orochimaru then. Neither as free as wind, nor as rigid as earth, but somewhere in between… His hands flickered through the water bullet jutsu. This time, instead of splattering harmlessly to the ground or exploding in his face, it shot towards the target and knocked it back a foot.
“Well done,” the Nidaime murmured.
But Orochimaru shook his head, torn between elation and irritation. “My aim was off centre.”
“That’s just a matter of practice. You’ve overcome the real hurdle.”
Reluctantly, Orochimaru agreed. That didn’t stop his fingers from itching to try again – and again and again – and to not stop until he reached perfection.
But the Nidaime was still there, still watching him, and he had to make a good impression. Orochimaru wasn’t good at making good impressions, in general. But he was smart enough to realise that the Hokage could make life difficult for him, if tradition forced him to team Tsunade up with someone he disliked.
“How did you know my affinity was wind?” Orochimaru asked, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose at himself. It was a nice, non-offensive question – except for how offensive it was to Orochimaru’s intelligence. Obviously, since he’d been doing team formations, the Hokage had read it in Orochimaru’s student file.
Except, apparently not.
“Your chakra,” the Nidaime said instead. “I did say I wanted to get a measure of you. I find chakra sensing to be a good way to do that.”
And just like that, any thoughts of making a good impression fled Orochimaru’s mind. Self-consciousness flooded him, and he reacted as he did to any overwhelming feeling of vulnerability – by shutting down.
“It won’t speak well of me,” he said coldly, ruthlessly hiding his dread. He tilted his head, letting his hair fall over half his features in a way Jiraiya called creepy, but Orochimaru found comforting – an unorthodox shield.
The Nidaime raised one eyebrow, bemused by his change in demeanour. Despite the man’s expression being otherwise placid, it conveyed a thousand and one emotions – an impatient demand for clarification, and a sceptical challenge, and much more.
Orochimaru was briefly distracted, fascinated and wondering how did he do that? Emotional expression, and emotions in general, had and never would be Orochimaru’s strong suit. He silently vowed to practice that expression in the mirror when he got home. He felt like it would do very well to convey impatience and scorn, and he shared a class with Jiraiya.
“My chakra,” Orochimaru clarified. “Nobody likes it.”
“I’m sure your mother does.”
Orochimaru tilted his head back, hair falling away, forgetting to be afraid. “How do you know that?” he demanded. He bit his lip after, prepared to be rebuked for his ill manners. But, if anything, the Nidaime seemed indulgent of a tiny child rudely demanding that he give them knowledge at once.
“Unfortunately, Hokage duties take up much of my time these days, but when I was able to spread myself further, I headed the Sensor Division.”
“Mother heads it now!” Orochimaru piped up eagerly. The Nidaime smiled a little – it transformed his face from stern to beautiful – and Orochimaru blinked, and then blushed. He’d never particularly noticed anyone’s beauty before.
“She does. A talented woman. I helped refine her training myself.”
Always a creature of volatile, if limited emotions – and far less talented than he hoped to one day become at disguising them, in bringing them out only when he wanted to unnerve – Orochimaru shifted to suspicious in the blink of an eye. “She’s never mentioned you,” he all but accused. “She would have, I think.”
The Nidaime heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose – a reaction Orochimaru could sympathise with, being acquainted with Jiraiya. “Your mother,” he said, “is as much a deceptively over-cheerful menace as my brother ever was, in her own way – a bit less playing dumb, a lot more flirting.” Sadness passed over his features at the mention of his dead brother – deep enough even Orochimaru couldn’t mistake it – but it was gone as quickly as it came. Resigned, the Nidaime added, “And just as undignified. She insists on calling me dandelion. It is, at least, an improvement on pappi—”
When Orochimaru stepped closer, bright eyes questioning, the Nidaime exhaled an amused huff and patted his head. Orochimaru scowled, but allowed it because it was the Hokage. The Nidaime then dropped to the ground, taking a seat right there in the dirt. Orochimaru hesitantly joined him, relaxing at the approving nod it earned him.
“Pappi – or pappus in the singular – is the term used to describe the wind-catching bristles attached to the seeds of a dandelion, once the petals have fallen off and the seedhead forms. Yes,” he added dryly when Orochimaru bit his lip not to laugh, and waved at his hair, “the white puffballs.” The Nidaime rolled his eyes. “She only stopped because ‘pappi’ sounds enough like a paternal diminutive that people started asking awkward questions.”
Orochimaru burst into scandalised giggles. He stifled them quickly though, because he wasn’t a baby, and it was undignified.
“Your chakra doesn’t bother me,” the Nidaime said, “for the same reason it doesn’t bother your mother. A chakra sensor of skill builds up a tolerance to chakra of all kinds.” He hummed. “Imagine a child raised in complete darkness. How overwhelmed would they be, how pained, if as an adult, they were brought suddenly into the sunlight.”
“Oh,” Orochimaru said, understanding dawning. “It would hurt their eyes. Be a searing brightness.”
“It would. But for an ordinary child? For them, light is a benefit. It’s a source of sight, of colours – and of fascination when they see something unique.” The Nidaime smiled then, and leaned in like he was sharing a secret. “Your chakra, to me, is like that – unique and fascinating.”
Orochimaru hid behind his hair again, flushed at the unexpected compliment.
He supposed, technically, it was true. His chakra was unique.
Most people’s chakra registered as a prickling awareness and a source of light, despite providing no illumination. Temperature – either hot or cold – wasn’t unusual either, especially for those with a fire or water affinity. Less common were scents. Among the rarest, however, were physical sensations and sounds, or multi-layered sensations.
Orochimaru’s chakra hit all three.
No one had ever seen that uniqueness as a good thing before, however – aside from his mother, who he’d always dismissed as biased. Once, in class, when they were learning basic medical jutsu – just a diagnostic scan, anything more complex being dangerous without specialised training – Jiraiya had responded to Orochimaru’s chakra prodding at him by yelping and bloodying Orochimaru’s nose.
When the teacher asked him to explain himself, Jiraiya said he couldn’t help it. He’d described Orochimaru’s chakra, with dubious elegance, as “super-duper mean – all razor blades and creepy whispers and burning acid”.
“What does it feel like to you?” Orochimaru couldn’t help asking.
The Nidaime considered it. “Like a poisoned blade,” he said. “The whisper of a sword leaving its sheath. The sharp sting of a thousand careful cuts. The vivid burn of venom spreading through veins.” He hummed. “It’s a complex and multi-layered sensory input. Precise and deadly – a good omen for a ninja.”
Orochimaru’s flush returned, and he couldn’t help hoarding the compliment like a dragon hoarded gold.
“Most sensors find complex signatures the most intriguing. The very skilled ones, at least. There is a threshold of sorts. A non-linear progression. A poor sensor is unlikely to notice most chakra, unless exposed directly. A good sensor will notice, and be unnerved by some – I imagine this is what you’re most familiar with, outside your mother.”
Orochimaru nodded sharply. “People don’t like it.”
“They lack the talent and exposure to appreciate the unique and fascinating.”
“They’re the children raised in the dark.”
The Nidaime hummed approvingly, making Orochimaru flush again. “Exactly. The poor chakra sensors would be more like the blind, or nearly so, in that analogy – dark or light make little difference to what they see, but they’ll burn if you bring a flame too close. Skilled sensors are those raised in the light, and familiar with it, unhurt by the intensity of the sun.
“Of course,” the Nidaime added, turning thoughtful, “even then there’s degrees of skill, of toleration. Mito always found Madara’s chakra overwhelming, for instance. Like a raging wildfire that burned to get too close to – all heat and light, the scent of smoke and the crackle of burning trees. I always found it quite lovely though, before…”
Orochimaru stared with surprise as the Nidaime gazed off into the distance, mind clearly far away. How strange, he thought, that he would speak of Konoha’s first missing-nin with any sort of positivity. He’d been sure that Tobirama Senju in particular hated Madara Uchiha – that was what the rumours all said.
Of course, he reminded himself disdainfully, rumours were mostly spread by the idiot masses. So really, he should have known better than to trust them.
As the silence stretched, growing awkward, Orochimaru wondered how to break it. A thought occurred, and he decided to share it.
“A little ominous,” he suggested.
“Hmm?” The Nidaime finally looked at him again.
“Lovely perhaps, but ominous. Because of the burning tree imagery?”
Having said it aloud, Orochimaru suddenly doubted the wisdom of his words, especially when the Nidaime just stared at him for a long moment. Was this one of those annoying social blunders he sometimes stepped in? Why were there so many rules, he wondered, frustrated? And with no consistency!
Suddenly however, the Nidaime turned his head aside and snorted a laugh. And just like that, the strange mood lifted, and they returned to their discussion of chakra.
“The specific way we interpret chakra is fascinating in itself,” Tobirama said at one point. ‘Tobirama’, not ‘Nidaime’ – he’d insisted on it, and Orochimaru, oddly flustered, had agreed. Tobirama had an elbow leaning on one upraised knee, his other hand waving about with an unrestrained enthusiasm, and Orochimaru catalogued every gesture. “It’s compelling evidence towards the theory that chakra isn’t native to humans, that it was… grafted on somehow. Why else would human perception of it piggyback the other senses, rather than have a native sensory system of its own?”
They spent the whole afternoon like that, discussing chakra theory and whatever else came to mind.
A lot of the questions, Orochimaru realised, he might as easily have asked his mother. He’d never thought to before, overlooking an immense source of knowledge – and he silently vowed to change that.
Other topics verged well out of his mother’s area of expertise. Orochimaru was impressed to find no question Tobirama couldn’t answer. Equally important, there was no question he wouldn’t answer. It was a barrier Orochimaru had come up against before – “when you’re older” were the three most frustrating words in existence!
Tobirama was apparently content – despite those Hokage duties he’d mentioned taking up all his time – to spend hours indulging the curiosity of a child. Eventually however, an Anbu dropped from a tree and bowed. It was apologetic somehow, for all that they never spoke a word.
Tobirama sighed. “Well, that’s that. When your Anbu guard feels the need to break cover, that’s definitely a sign you’ve been avoiding work for long enough. Paperwork awaits no man forever.” He rose to his feet, Orochimaru scrambling hastily to follow. Tobirama patted his head again, and this time it wasn’t annoying at all. “Thank you for an engaging afternoon, Orochimaru. You make an attentive listener. Tsunade will do well with you on her team.”
“Thank you, Nidaime, sir. You’re an amazing teacher. I think I learned more this afternoon than in my whole time in the Academy.”
“Surely it’s not that terrible.” Tobirama’s teasing tone was explained by his next words. “I helped design the program, after all.”
Gold eyes going wide, Orochimaru actually stuttered. “I-I mean, I was exaggerating.” He was exaggerating, but only a little.
Tobirama tipped his head back and laughed. Orochimaru’s heart skipped a beat, and his face flushed fully red as all the hints suddenly bludgeoned him over the head and he realised: oh no, my first crush.
Too flustered to speak, Orochimaru just stared silently as Tobirama composed himself and gave him an amused look. “I’m not offended,” he assured Orochimaru. “I know the Academy covers a lot of basics you probably learned at home, and moves at a much slower pace than you require. It’s organised that way to allow students from civilian backgrounds to catch up.
“I had originally intended to simply separate classes by skill level and learning rate, rather than age groups, but Hashirama” – Tobirama rolled his eyes, not quite hiding the grief in them – “insisted it was more important to establish friendships. The Yamanaka clan head agreed – something about the importance of peer bonds to mental development.” He huffed. “Psychology and emotional complexities aren’t my area of expertise.”
Orochimaru forgot to be mortified long enough to wrinkle his nose. At the questioning look it earned him, he said, “People are confusing.”
Tobirama nodded, and they shared a moment of perfect understanding. Then, Tobirama gave him a speculative look and hummed. “You praise my teaching, but you make a good student, Orochimaru. Curious, eager, intelligent, insightful. If it were only a few years ago, when I had more time…”
Orochimaru’s eyes widened at the implication, and his receding blush returned with a vengeance. He made a silent vow, then and there, to one day invent a jutsu to fix the indignity.
“Still, I imagine you’ll be a semi-regular visitor to my house. Tsunade’s got a good and nurturing heart, but she’s also a bossy little thing.” His tone was fondly indulgent. “There’s no way she won’t decide you need to eat more and start dragging you to dinner. Maybe we can discuss more chakra theory then.”
“And everything else?” Orochimaru asked, eager.
“Everything?”
“Everything,” Orochimaru said fervently, earning an approving look that made him stand straighter.
“You’d definitely better come to dinner then.”
And with that, Tobirama left.
In hindsight, that carefree afternoon was probably the last time Orochimaru was freely, innocently happy, unburdened by the familiarity of grief – his parents were killed not long after, just a week before Tobirama Senju fell.
He never did find the time to ask his mother those questions.
The timing of the losses, so close together, was a point of bonding for Tsunade and Orochimaru when their team formed. Even years later, however – and with the emotional distance that gifted – Orochimaru couldn’t think it was worth it.
Orochimaru first met Tobirama Senju when he was six years old.
He never saw him again.