"Have you finally made up your mind, Kakashi-kun?"
Orochimaru's voice was calm, almost casual, as his hands moved with surgical precision, scalpels glinting beneath flickering candlelight. The body laid out before him was clearly not from Konoha. No head. No hitai-ate. Just flesh and bone and silence.
He was careful. Always careful. No need to shatter Kakashi's illusions in one blow. Better to let them fracture. Slowly. Piece by piece.
The question pulled Kakashi from his daze. He hadn't even realised how long he'd been staring. His fingers curled slightly, a twitch more than a fist. He didn't speak. Not yet.
Images bled through his mind, memories he hadn't asked for. Asuma laughing with Kurenai, relaxed in a way Kakashi could never manage. Gai, loud and relentless in his optimism. The way people looked at him—admiration, distance, fear. The way they didn't look at him. How they never mentioned his father.
The village was healing. Moving on.
He wasn't.
Minato-sensei had seen it, of course. The shift in him. The questions brewing behind that quiet eye.
Why did his father have to die like that?
Why did no one stand beside him?
What did it really mean to protect the village?
And now… what should he do?
Maybe the answers weren't in Konoha anymore. Maybe they never had been. Maybe they were here, in this cold room with a madman and a corpse.
Kakashi finally looked up, eye steady behind the mask.
"...Yeah," he said softly. "I've decided."
The scalpel paused.
A breath passed before Kakashi spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
"...Can you tell me everything, Orochimaru-sama?"
The man didn't look at him. Not at first. He wiped the scalpel clean, the faint scent of blood lingering like incense. Then, after a beat, he smiled.
"So… you remember." His tone held a touch of amusement. "That day you asked why no one helped your father."
Kakashi didn't flinch. He waited.
Orochimaru turned, eyes sharp. Cold.
"I'll tell you my reason."
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, hands clasped behind his back like a lecturer before a lecture that mattered.
"It was because your father had no value to me."
The words struck like ice. Unflinching. Merciless.
"Yes, he was powerful. Respected. But in the end? He was soft. Sentimental. He threw away a guaranteed victory to save lives, and when the village turned its back, he didn't fight. He accepted it. A man like that," Orochimaru's lip curled faintly, "was already dead the moment he chose compassion."
Kakashi's fists clenched at his sides.
"But that's just me," Orochimaru went on, tone even. "Others had their own reasons. Some were cowards. Some simply didn't care. And some truly believed the village must come before the individual. Even your father."
He tilted his head slightly, watching him.
"Still want to know more, Kakashi-kun?"
The boy exhaled through his mask, voice low but controlled.
"Then why are you telling me this? What's your gain in all of this?"
Orochimaru chuckled, soft and snake-slick.
"Ah… that's the real question."
He leaned forward, voice dropping.
"I don't lie, Kakashi-kun. Not to those I'm grooming."
Kakashi blinked. "...Grooming?"
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"You want answers. I want a student. One who questions. One who thinks. You've always had the mind for it. But this..." He gestured to the corpse. "This is the first time you've actually looked."
Kakashi didn't move. His breath hitched—barely. But Orochimaru noticed.
He turned again, lifting another scalpel.
"I tell you the truth because lies are boring. And because, eventually, you'll see the world the way I do."
He paused.
"Or you won't. And you'll leave. Like the others."
Kakashi's voice was quiet. Measured.
"...That's it? You want me as your student?"
Orochimaru didn't answer immediately. His hands kept moving, precise as ever. But after a moment, he set the blade down and nodded once.
"That," he said, "and one more thing."
He faced Kakashi fully, shadows shifting across his face.
"I want to clear a debt I owe to Sakumo-san."
Kakashi's eye narrowed. "Debt?"
Orochimaru gave a small nod.
"During the war… he saved my life. More than once. Risked his own, without hesitation."
He gestured around them—to the corpse, the lab, the truth Kakashi had asked for.
"This is the least I can do. Let his son see the world clearly."
Then, with a faint smile, "Whether you choose to take revenge, forgive them, or leave them behind—that's your decision. I won't interfere."
He stepped back again, hands folded neatly behind him.
"But if you want clarity and power… stay."
Kakashi watched him. Long and hard. Then, voice low, he asked,
"Is this because… you didn't become Hokage?"
He wanted to see the truth. Wanted to catch the crack in Orochimaru's mask.
But the man only chuckled.
"You wound me."
He stepped closer again, eyes almost amused. Almost.
"To think you'd reduce me to something so petty. Do you really believe I'm that small?"
There was a sharp edge in his voice now. Not anger. Something older. Sadder.
"Yes, I was hurt. That Sensei never even considered me. But that's not why I changed."
He leaned forward and wisper.
"Remember, Kakashi… you're not the only one who lost someone because the village decided they weren't worth saving."
Something flickered in his eyes—regret, perhaps—but it vanished just as quickly.
Then, softly, "The question is… what will you do with that truth?"
************
Jutsu Orochimaru can make