Deep within Orochimaru's hidden laboratory, the air was thick with a suffocating stillness. The base, buried in endless stone and shadow, often carried the stench of blood and medicine, a testament to countless years of forbidden research. But tonight, that usual atmosphere was different.
On the long steel table, instead of jars filled with organs or scrolls of jutsu theory, were scattered tomes of astronomy, complex calculations, and maps of the night sky. Scrolls marked with planetary alignments lay unrolled, while ink dripped from freshly scribbled charts of orbital trajectories.
The heavy metallic door creaked open with a groan.
A tall, cloaked figure stepped into the chamber, his presence cold and deliberate. His movement carried the faint scrape of sand—though his body was no longer of flesh.
Orochimaru did not look up from his parchments. His voice, smooth and serpentine, slithered across the air.
"Ah… you're here, Sasori."
The figure's faceplate glinted faintly under the torchlight. The man once known as Sasori of the Red Sand gave the barest nod. His tone was flat, mechanical, yet faintly sharp.
"The observatory you asked for… is complete."
Only then did Orochimaru raise his golden eyes. A faint smile curved his lips.
"As expected of you. Your efficiency never disappoints me."
"Hmph," Sasori snorted. "Efficiency is one thing. Curiosity for the stars is another. The rest is up to you."
Without another word, he turned, leading Orochimaru down a narrow corridor where shadows swallowed the light. The two emerged into a concealed cavern, newly carved into the rock.
There, under the reinforced ceiling, stood a crude yet effective observation deck. The structure was compact but precise, fitted with rangefinders, telescopes, and measuring tools. Everything bore Sasori's unmistakable craftsmanship—practical, efficient, and durable.
Orochimaru's pupils narrowed with delight. He stepped forward, adjusting the angles of the great telescope, aligning it with the heavens above. His thin fingers danced across parchment as he began calculations. Numbers spilled into scrolls; angles shifted; stars aligned.
Minutes bled into hours as the pale snake worked. His casual smirk gradually faded, replaced by rare solemnity. His face, often mocking or amused, now reflected genuine seriousness.
From the corner, Sasori studied him silently.
"…Judging from your expression," he said at last, "what our leader mentioned was true?"
Orochimaru's hand stilled. He inhaled deeply, his voice lower now.
"I'm afraid… yes. It is true."
The puppet master's brow furrowed beneath his mask. "How bad?"
Orochimaru placed down his quill, exhaling the weight of the answer.
"From my calculations… the time remaining before impact is exactly forty-three days."
The words echoed in the cavern. For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence carried the oppressive gravity of impending doom.
Sasori finally broke it. "What will happen if nothing is done?"
Orochimaru's voice grew heavy, deliberate, each word carved with finality.
"Then… ninety percent of life in the ninja world will be extinguished."
His golden eyes gleamed, reflecting the flickering torchlight.
"The asteroid will fracture the land on impact. The crust will tear apart. Entire continents will shift. Volcanoes will awaken, oceans will rise into walls of tsunamis, storms of ash and acid rain will choke the skies. What remains will be plunged into eternal night… until all systems collapse into death."
Sasori remained motionless, but inside his heart—a heart he pretended no longer existed—a faint weight pressed down. Orochimaru's words were no exaggeration. He knew well the man's intellect. If Orochimaru said so, then it was truth.
"…And there is no countermeasure?"
"The Rinnegan has power beyond measure," Orochimaru admitted, "but against a celestial disaster of this magnitude… even the legendary eyes of the Sage may prove limited."
For a time, neither spoke. The chamber seemed colder than ever.
At last Sasori asked, his voice soft yet cutting: "So… what will you do?"
Orochimaru's lips curved again, his amusement returning, though tinged with ice.
"People like us, Sasori, do not entrust our fates to others. Would you place your life in the hands of Nagato? Of that self-proclaimed god?"
His words struck with deliberate sharpness. Sasori's expression darkened faintly, though hidden behind his puppet shell.
"You've already thought of returning to Konoha?"
Orochimaru chuckled. "And you? Do you not long to peek once more at the Sand? To see the one who raised you?"
The puppet master stiffened. A face flashed before him—an elderly woman's lined with both warmth and bitterness.
Chiyo…
The memory cut, sharp and unwanted. Sasori turned abruptly, his cloak sweeping.
"I'm returning to Akatsuki. I'll report this directly to the leader."
Without another word, his form melted back into shadow.
Orochimaru watched his departure, amusement curling his mouth.
"Even Sasori cannot hide his attachments," he hissed softly. "We are not so different."
From the darkness of the chamber, a smaller figure emerged. Pale-haired, glasses glinting, the loyal shadow of the serpent himself.
Kabuto bowed. "Orochimaru-sama… how shall we proceed?"
The smile vanished from Orochimaru's face, replaced by icy determination.
"This base is no longer safe. Gather every piece of core data, every vital specimen, every tool worth saving. Move them all to the deeper vaults. We'll construct new underground facilities."
Kabuto nodded sharply, already anticipating the list.
"Underground farms, water reserves, medical stores," Orochimaru continued, his tone quick, decisive. "Shelters capable of sustaining life for years after the impact. If the world above burns, we will endure below."
Kabuto scribbled quickly. "I'll mobilize the resources immediately."
Orochimaru turned his gaze back to the telescope. His golden eyes burned with something between fascination and hunger.
"Knowledge," he whispered, "is survival. Destruction is inevitable. But what comes after—that is the true prize. I will see with my own eyes what kind of new world rises from the ashes."
His voice deepened, colder than the cavern air.
"When the flames die, who among us will crawl from the shadows? What new order will we forge?"
Kabuto lowered his head in reverence. "Yes, Orochimaru-sama."
On the table beside them lay a sealed scroll, faintly pulsing with chakra. Inside were preserved samples of the First and Second Hokage's cells—treasures stolen from Konoha. Orochimaru's fingers hovered over the seal.
Should I use them? he wondered. Would even their power be enough to withstand the fall of heaven itself?
His mind raced. The Five Great Nations, their old systems, their ancient grudges—none of it would survive the coming impact. Perhaps this was the perfect crucible to break the order of the world.
But there was another matter. A name, echoing in his mind.
Uchiha Gen.
The boy who, on the night of massacre, awakened a Mangekyō so twisted it was said to hold the power of destruction itself. Such power could not be ignored.
"If his ability truly rivals the asteroid's might," Orochimaru murmured, "then his body must be mine."
Just as his plans formed, a faint shuffle stirred at the base's entrance.
A shinobi stepped forward, clad in Root's insignia. He bowed deeply.
"Orochimaru-sama. Danzo-sama requests your presence."
The serpent's grin widened, sharp and sinister.
"Danzo… ah. How convenient. I was planning a visit to Konoha myself."
He waved a pale hand, his tone silky.
"Tell him… I'll be there very soon."
The Root agent bowed and vanished.
Orochimaru's smile lingered, curling higher.
"So, Danzo seeks me out over Uchiha Gen… or perhaps over the asteroid. Either way… this meeting will prove entertaining."
Kabuto adjusted his glasses, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
"Orochimaru-sama… will you truly cooperate with Danzo?"
Orochimaru chuckled, low and venomous.
"Cooperate? Hmhmhm… no, Kabuto. I will use him. Just as he will try to use me. In the end… only one of us will feed on the other."
His tongue flickered briefly between his lips.
"Uchiha Gen. World-destroying eyes. A new era dawning. Yes… this game is becoming more fascinating by the hour."
In the cold depths of the cavern, his laughter slithered against the stone walls, long and chilling.
The countdown had begun.
Forty-three days remained until the world ended.
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