Chapter Two: The Grand Meeting

He grabbed the tree branch, and used it to propel himself a little further, albeit he didn't move much. He didn't offer up my force to move his gargantuan body, so he just dropped to the ground and stayed there, panting. He wasn't as young as he used to be; Sannoto propped himself up against a tree, unraveled his bag and partook in its delicious contents: a nice bottle of sake, some instant ramen, and a few apples and oranges. It wasn't what he was used to, but she no longer resided in this world, or not right now. He was determined to get her back, at all cost, even if that meant leaping into hell himself. As he sat, eating his food, an ominous aura washed over him, but he didn't move despite its closeness. With pieces of apple being chewed in his mouth, Sannoto spoke, "I knew someone was following me."

Slithers echoed from the forest behind him in all directions, before finally materializing a raspy mess of words, "Then you should know who I am." The voice was definitely unique, it sounded as if someone was scratchy a chalk board, and with an aura like this it belonged only to one ninja. For many, they cowered in fear when he introduced himself, and children ran to escape, and for those unable they found no other options but to kill themselves. Everyone knew about the abductions in these woods, thus very few trended deep into them. Sannoto had been warned about that prior to entering.

"The villagers spoke about people disappearing in these woods," the Senju casually spoke, his tone displaying no signs of distress, nor his body as he continued eating his meal. "I didn't expect to run into the one responsible." A short silence flooded the scene, speaking for itself. "But, I can only assume that you aren't here to abduct me."

"And how do you know that?" the voice quickly retorted, almost as if it was insulted. "Are you implying that I recognize that I can't abduct you? Or, do you just believe in the fact that you're an old farce and I don't take old farces?"

Sannoto took a sip of his sake, giggling in response to the voice's statement. "No, no. It's none of those things at all. I just have faith that my uncle is mean enough to experiment on his nephew." The Senju heard a slithery laugh. "Now, why don't you come out the forest, and let me see your face? I want to see if time has been as cruel to you as it has for me." As Sannoto spoke, a shadow continued to step from the misty shadows of the forest until the figure was standing openly in the light. His pale skin, yellow slitted eyes, fang-like teeth, a tongue that reached to the ground, pronounced cheekbones, and that dangerously long hair, was all the same as it had been fifty and sixty years ago. "So," a large grin filled Sannoto's visage, "How are you, Uncle Orochimaru?"

With a smirk of his own, he replied, "I think you know. Those villagers probably told you everything."

"Well," the Senju started, "They told me about a ghost. They didn't speak of any regular ole shinobi. If i had known it was you, I wouldn't have prepared as much as I did."

Orochimaru's head tilted slightly, "You....Prepare?" His question was more rhetorical than an actual inquiry. Everyone who knew Sannoto, even those who knew him a little, understood that he never prepared for anything. It was the reason why death had approached him so many times, despite his unfathomable strength. When one forgets to pack food, water, and extra clothes, then they'll fall regardless of whether or not they know every ninjutsu in the world. That's what everyone told Sannoto at least, and he never listened. It was only through sheer luck that he lived to the age that he was, so naturally, it came as a surprise that he actually prepared. Orochimaru was stunned, until he looked down: a bottle of sake, an instant ramen pack, and two apples and oranges. He facepalmed. "Please tell me you're not referring to your meal as being prepared."

"Oh, yeah I—" A fist came crashing down upon the crown of his head, and then a gooey hand dripped down the front of his face. "Ew, what the? Uncle Orochimaru! Why?"

Orochimaru snickered, pulling his hand back and watching as it molded back into shape. "Blame that stupid defense of yours. An uncle can't even properly discipline his nephew with that thing. I forgot all about that stupid thing." He shook his head in disappointment. "And to think you've changed. That meal isn't being prepared, Sannoto. If i were a ghost, what would a meal do?"

"Well, when you think about it, ghost must be hungry since they haven't eaten in years right?" Orochimaru's grew slightly red. "I'm striking out here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are." The Sannin sighed and paced away for a moment, hoping to garner some inner peace to restore his pale, porcelain complexion. The scene remained silent, as in Orochimaru took a break from the conversation, and Sannoto was too afraid to talk. The last time he talked back to Orochimaru didn't end well; he still hadn't forgotten how his body was a gooey mess of what was once muscle, skin, bone, and flesh. He was the only person that Sannoto knew that could actively render his metal useless with a single touch. Auto defense meant nothing to Orochimaru, and it was by the grace of god that he forgotten all about it when he struck the Senju earlier. Finally, he spoke. "Why are you here anyway, Sannoto?"