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Kikaichu. Millions of microscopic insects that made up 30% of the cells in an Aburame’s system. When triggered by a chakra-induced defense hormone some of them would swim to the surface, their growth accelerating into visible range once past the outer membrane. This thick shelled defensive form was the one the rest of the world was familiar with.
Symbiosis with their host prevented insecticide from working against them, easily burned out by chakra, and a seemingly infinite number can be summoned so long as their host remains alive and in possession of chakra to trigger the transformation. In return they protect their host internally, assisting in poison and infection removal, wound care and accelerated healing. An Aburame with a healthy kikaichu colony rarely died to disease or infection.
None of which was of any interest to the ninja of Kirigakure, naturally. They wanted to know how to kill a kikaichu swarm before it drained whatever chakra the attacker had.
Tatsuma had long since lost his sense of time, lingering on the fringes of death waiting for the scientists to remember him again and perform yet another test. His reserves at the limit, what little kikaichu he retained keeping him from dying under the strain, lingering on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. The chakra seals were the worst part, when he was aware enough to care. Dragging awareness away from him when he tried to wake, only to wake him in a rush when they were removed, just long enough for the uncontrollable backlash to summon an alarmed, unprogrammed kikaichu swarm. Then burning his frayed chakra system and crashing him back into unconsciousness.
The scientists pulling him appart weren’t immune to overlooking an Aburame, something which aggravated them to no end. It prevented them from getting regular readings on him, but prompted them to strap him into an IV and a machine that fed him the correct amount of nourishment no matter how long he may have been overlooked. It wouldn’t do for him to die before they got their results, after all.
He was thankful, in those small waking hours between tests, that their forgetting kept him from such a rigorous test schedule. Losing control of his chakra regularly would have been worse than this sealed lingering death.
Even with limited lucidity Tatsuma never wondered if potential rescue had forgotten him. There was no rescue coming. As far as Danzo was concerned failed Root operatives were already dead. Perhaps the reason he hadn’t been assassinated already was he’d been forgotten, but maybe he had no secrets worth sending an assassin to finish the job. The specifics didn’t concern him, Tatsuma was only waiting for death to find him, not worrying about what-ifs or wasting time on hope.
On the other hand, there was no way Orochimaru had died before he did. No reason for the snake to be staring down at him other than meeting each other again in death. Unless Danzo had been the one to order the study on him, or perhaps this was a hallucination. Consciousness was fluid now, and when Tatsuma came back to it nothing looked the same. Small hands held him in an unfamiliar position, jostling occasionally. He’d been bound motionless too long, the disorientation peaked and he passed out. Completely and truly, for what must have been the first time in a long time.
Sometime while he was lost to the waking world they must have removed the chakra bindings. He wonders how they dealt with the Kikaichu Swarm that inevitably followed, but he never asks. He doesn’t doubt those two could have survived.
Tatsuma wakes up fully for the first time in unknown years. They’re in a cave safehouse on an island somewhere closer to the Fire Country border. The warm weight of blankets is unfamiliar enough it takes him some time to place it. It takes even longer to remember he could try to move. There’s a burn in his limbs when he tries, uncooperative and uncoordinated, but he powers through it.
He’s not tied down.
Tatsuma turns his head to face the familiar figure leaning over him.
“After this long you shouldn’t be able to move at all,” Orochimaru informs him. “I expect those symbiotes of yours are repairing the damage as we speak.”
His throat was dry and his jaw ached where the muzzle had been but the pain was fading. He’d been silenced for a long time, probably too long, so he simply nods. Orochimaru nods back, taking his vitals before slipping back into the shadows across the room. Tatsuma can still see him as he settles, but once he stops moving he’s gone. Better to defend from the shadows than where you could be seen and worked around.
Maybe the familiarity of that is reassuring, from missions together years ago. Maybe he’s just tired. Either way, Tatsuma doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up again.
There’s a camping oven in the firepit, he can see the glow in the next room when he turns his head. Orochimaru is silhouetted against the light of it in the doorway, giving directions to a pale haired child manning the pot. Even half-turned towards him the snake caught the turn of his head.
“He’s awake. Put the rest of the vegetables in and tell me when they start falling apart when you stir.”
The kid nods and Orochimaru turns away, making his way back to Tatsuma’s bedside.
“Well then, how are you feeling?”
Tatsuma wants to say something. He feels like maybe he should. He can feel his Kikaichu for the first time in what feels like forever, and the lingering buzz of healing chakra in his veins. His throat is still dry though, and his jaw still aches, so he just nods.
Orochimaru sighs, reaching out to take his vitals again. Tatsuma wonders idly if he learned that diagnostic jutsu to aid his research or to survive badgering from the Slug Sannin. It might be both, but probably the latter.
“You are hardly alright,” The pale shinobi told him. “Your chakra is all but gone, and what you have is fluctuating wildly. As far as I can tell without a Hyuuga your chakra network is collapsing in on itself. And your kikaichu were completely clear.”
Tatsuma blinked, barely avoiding the instinct to summon a swarm and see for himself. Orochimaru met his gaze straight on, offering one of his bitter masking smiles.
“Danzo is dead. I’m here to fix what he created.”
And there’s… so much in those few words. Too much to process even as the reality hits him. Fortunately the boy calls out to Orochimaru that the vegetables are falling apart and the Sannin allows himself to be distracted.
I’m going to heal, Tatsuma realizes, somewhere between watching Orochimaru explain how to serve the food and being fed broth by that same child. Danzo was dead, his orders or desires didn’t matter any longer. And Orochimaru wanted him alive.
His kikaichu were clear, like a new molt. Perhaps not so strange after all.