Chapter Text
“Something’s coming,” the forest murmurs.
Obito takes pause, raising a hand to his ear. “What the fuck,” he mutters, even as his gaze is drawn towards rustling leaves.
“Wrong,” the apparently-sentient woodlands insist. “Twisted.” Not a moment later, he catches sight of a familiar, beige blur darting across sturdy branches. The wood beneath him seems to bristle in response.
“I,” Obito decides, eyeing his Hashiramafied arm suspiciously, “Am deeply concerned.”
Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much time to reflect on his newly-gained tree-whispering powers, because Orochimaru is headed straight towards Sasuke and Kakashi, and at the rate he’s going, he’ll make it there within mere minutes.
Obito pauses for all of a moment before pulling his mask from kamui, expression souring. He directs a middle finger to no one in particular, then mentally prepares himself to intercept the man who refuses to take a page out of the toad summons’ book and finally croak.
This was supposed to be an off day. A quick check-in, and then he’d be gone. But nooo, Snakeface McGee just had to show up and ruin his plans.
(Granted, he didn’t actually have any particularly concrete ones, but it’s the principle of the thing.)
Admittedly, though, he’s not entirely surprised. If Orochimaru had just returned home after one failed attempt, tail between his legs, Obito would’ve eventually imploded from the buildup of paranoia.
The guy needed Sasuke for his magic eyeballs, and not even (temporary) death had stopped him in canon. Orochimaru’s tenacity is admirable, Obito will give him that. His propensity for chasing after traumatized little boys (regardless of his reasons), less so.
Obito lands, then, cloak flapping behind him dramatically.
“I am the Lorax,” he intones, back to the sun, “And I speak for the trees.”
Orochimaru meets his gaze with narrowed eyes, having come to a stop. “You again.”
Obito had known that his reference wouldn’t be understood, but he manages to be disappointed nonetheless. “You’ve never seen a concerning amount of people thirsting after the Onceler and it shows.”
“I assumed you had a modicum of self-preservation when I’d been told of your escape,” the man says disdainfully, entirely ignoring both of his previous statements. “Clearly, I’d expected too much of an ex-Konoha nin.”
“You know what they say about assumptions,” Obito quips back before realizing, no, he probably doesn’t. All of his comments were falling short today, and it’s far more embarrassing than it should be.
Also: ex-Konoha nin?
“Your lack of presence in the records betrays you,” Orochimaru tells him, almost looking bored. “And you’re certainly not one of Danzou’s men.”
Obito barely has a moment to feel vaguely insulted before, a moment later, he gets the distinct feeling that he’s just been placed under the man’s metaphorical microscope.
“Not that you’d do well amongst his ranks, mind,” Orochimaru continues in a low murmur that has Obito’s hair standing on end. “He’d ruin you. Make a mockery of that jutsu of yours…” He purses his lips, considering. “I will admit that he’s not entirely inept. But his chosen methods do leave much to be desired.”
Orochimaru’s closer now, and his golden eyes seem to glow.
“I wonder if you truly understand the gift you have,” he murmurs, looking almost hungry. “The power that lies at your very fingertips.”
Obito swallows back a hysteria-tinged laugh as the forest grows increasingly agitated. “Is this some sort of recruitment speech?”
Orochimaru’s lips quirk upwards. “You’re not who I came for,” he admits, sickly-sweet, “But it’s clear that living on the run is doing you no favors. As of now, you barely even qualify as an amateur. That could always change.”
This is, perhaps, the most extreme whiplash he’s ever experienced. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.
Oh, but the man does have a point. He’ll admit that much, albeit begrudgingly.
Obito needs training. Needs to be strong. If he keeps gallivanting around the Elemental Nations, not a care in the world—
Eventually, he’ll stumble. One wrong step is all it will take for him to fall.
Slowly, deliberately, he forces out a breath. “I can see why others fear you,” he murmurs, leaning forwards. “You do have such a way with words.”
Orochimaru smirks like the cat who’s caught the canary. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting the man’s gaze as his lips curl into a grin of his own. “If you improved your pickup lines, I have no doubt that you’d do wonders on Tinder, even with the whole Edward Cullen thing going on. ‘You’re not who I came for’ doesn’t exactly make a guy feel special, see?”
Orochimaru’s expression shifts near-instantaneously. Obito promptly slams his head forwards, sending them both stumbling backwards.
Note to self, he thinks, a little lightheaded, Leave headbutting to the Kamados.
“I should’ve known,” Orochimaru sneers, regaining his balance with an annoying amount of grace. Also, he almost sounds like he’s hissing, which really adds to his snake-like vibe. “This village has always been plagued by the presence of fools.”
“My life thus far has just been A Series of Very Foolish Events,” Obito muses, then pauses, a crease between his brows. “Did you hear the capital letters too, or do I have more screws loose than I thought?”
Instead of verbally responding, Orochimaru stares at him for all of a moment before introducing his foot to Obito’s stomach. As it turns out, they aren’t huge fans of one another.
“Ow,” he wheezes, seeing stars.
“It seems nature favors you,” Orochimaru notes almost begrudgingly, eyes narrowed. Only then does Obito realize that he’s been caught by a net of twisting branches.
“Get bitched on, nerd,” Obito replies, displaying a remarkable lack of self-preservation skills. Also, he may have a concussion.
Orochimaru actually rolls his eyes at that, in a way that’s eerily reminiscent of a highschool mean girl.
“Do you have a Burn Book?” he wonders aloud, faintly disturbed.
The man doesn’t even blink before sending roaring winds hurtling his way. Obito freezes for all of a moment before wrestling himself away from the formerly-protective branches. Somehow, he manages to hit the ground right before his head gets taken off.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t come out entirely unscathed. With precise gashes now sunken into his skin, Obito gets a major sense of deja vu.
And he doesn’t have much time to collect himself, either. The next thing he knows, he’s throwing himself out of the way of another array of near-invisible slashes. He slams his palm into the dirt a moment later, but Orochimaru easily evades the giant tree that appears in his wake.
Ah, he thinks succinctly, watching as the golden-eyed man moves to stand before him, Fuck.
“I’m almost ashamed to have ever believed in your arrogance,” Orochimaru says plainly, dissecting Obito with his gaze. His voice is quiet - cutting. “When all you’ve ever been is a wild animal backed into a corner. Rabid,” he murmurs, “And utterly helpless.”
Despite himself, Obito shivers. Still, he forces his lips to curl into a teasing grin. “You really know how to butter a guy up, don’t you?”
Orochimaru’s expression remains unchanged. “It’ll be a shame to see the mokuton die out once again,” he says without a hint of genuine sorrow. Then, almost clinically, “But with a creature like you, I suppose the only choice had ever been euthanization.”
His hand glows, acidic green. It lowers, and—
The forest writhes.