The wine was warm in his hand when Gen reached Orochimaru's place.
Except… no Orochimaru.
The house was dark and locked.
Gen didn't knock. He hooked a foot on the sill, swung himself through the open second-story window, and landed without a sound.
The air smelled faintly of snake musk and ink. He slid into a chair, closed his eyes, and began refining his chakra in the quiet.
Half an hour later, footsteps scraped the dirt outside. He opened the door to find Mitarashi Anko standing there, looking a little windblown.
"Where's sensei?"
"Not here."
"Oh," she said, lips twisting. "Didn't think he'd get eliminated. That's… a surprise."
She followed him in and flopped onto the couch, wearing the same expression as a kunoichi whose mission had just been cancelled after a week of prep.
"It's not like missing the chance to be the Hokage's disciple is the end of the world," Gen said lazily.
"Hey. That's the Hokage's disciple," she shot back, straightening in indignation.
Gen smirked. "Then maybe you should sign up to be Minato-senpai's student. With Orochimaru's pull, it could happen."
"No thanks." She shook her head so fast her ponytail whipped her cheek. "I'd rather stick with sensei."
"Alright then. Let's hit the market before he gets back."
"You can cook?"
Gen rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"
Anko grinned. "Right, you and I are the same…"
"So," he cut in, "Oden tonight. I hear sensei likes eggs."
"Perfect," she said without hesitation — already imagining the steaming pot.
—
They hit the vegetable market, a small grocer, and a shinobi supply store with a food section, then lugged their bounty back.
Anko could cook, technically, but her style was all brute force, no finesse. She chopped too hard, salted by instinct, and generally treated food the way she treated sparring partners. Still, she was good at following directions.
By 7:30, the yard lights spilled warm gold into the street.
Orochimaru emerged silently from the earth, pale hands brushing dirt from his cloak. He'd just finished a meeting with Danzo. Seeing the lights on, he paused, then a faint smile curved his lips.
When he opened the door, Anko appeared from the kitchen. "Sensei! You're back."
He nodded, gaze sliding past her to the tall figure at the stove. "Gen?"
"Making oden," Anko said proudly. "Bought plenty of eggs for you."
"Thoughtful," Orochimaru said evenly, though something softened in his eyes.
Ten minutes later, the three of them sat around a table heavy with steam — boiled eggs, greens, meat, mushrooms.
Gen held up the wine bottle. "Sensei?"
Orochimaru hesitated, then inclined his head. He rarely drank; alcohol dulled precision.
But tonight… tonight was different.
Anko frowned. "You're drinking again? You're not even of age."
Gen's gaze was cool. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"Yeah. Alcohol's one of the three forbidden things for shinobi."
"So what?"
"When rules don't matter," Gen said, pouring, "I choose not to follow them."
Anko's eyes widened. So domineering…
She shot a look at Orochimaru. When he said nothing, she grinned. "I want some too."
Orochimaru's pale fingers curled around his cup. "Occasionally is fine. Rules… aren't absolute." He took a sip, swallowed an egg whole, snake-like.
Gen poured for Anko, and they clinked glasses over the steaming pot.
The wine burned warm down their throats. Anko smacked her lips in surprise... not bad.
They ate and drank, Anko making small attempts to lift her teacher's mood. Orochimaru merely nodded now and then. Gen didn't bother with comfort; he knew his teacher didn't want it.
By the time Anko was swaying in her seat, cheeks flushed, Gen had already guessed she'd need a bed upstairs.
When he came back down, Orochimaru was still at the table, swirling the red liquid in his cup.
"Sensei," Gen said, sitting. "I need your help with something."
"Explain."
Gen clinked glasses with him. "I want to buy some equipment. For research. You have a channel?"
"What kind?" Orochimaru's voice was smooth, but his eyes narrowed.
"Full-spectrum human body observation and data analysis tools."
"You're planning human experiments," Orochimaru said, the corner of his mouth curving in a way that wasn't quite a smile.
"Mm. I want to test a theory."
"Then be careful. If you're discovered, you'll have no choice but to leave Konoha."
Gen's lips tilted. "Different from you, sensei. My project can hide in the shadow of the high council's own research. If anything happens, there'll be people to clean up."
Orochimaru didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted past Gen, to a point somewhere far away.
"Unless," Gen added quietly, "I wanted to leave on my own."
Orochimaru's eyes sharpened.
"Sensei," Gen asked, "have you thought about it?"
For a long moment, there was only the sound of the pot bubbling.
Then Orochimaru spoke, voice low. "Since I won't be Hokage, staying here loses its appeal. It limits me. And the Fourth won't tolerate Danzo's excesses. Funding will be slashed. My work will suffer."
His eyes gleamed with something dangerous. "Better to cut ties… and find a place where I can experiment freely."
Gen felt a flicker of shock, and confirmation of a suspicion he'd had for some time.