The following story is brought to you by Jill's strange and slightly demented mind. The ideas within are all her own, but the characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto.
This story takes place after the failed attempt to invade Konoha in Part I.
The Woes of Orochimaru
The psychiatrist looked at his watch and sighed, an action luckily missed by Orochimaru.
Said villain lay on the red shrink-couch in the office, blowing his nose loudly into the tissue he had grabbed from the box on the desk next to him.
"No one understands," Orochimaru whined. "I am trying to be evil and take over Konoha, and force my regime upon them, but it just isn't as easy as I was hoping. And Kabuto is acting really strange lately," he continued, completely oblivious to the fact that his psychiatrist was drafting detailed plans in his notebook to kill himself. "First, he is taking longer and longer to respond when I ask him the simplest of questions. The other day, I asked him to brush my hair. There was a big knot near my neck that I just couldn't reach and when Kabuto came in, asked him to do it for me, and he started brushing from the top of my head, which was going to destroy all that hard work that I have put into my hair over the years. Of course, I stopped him automatically, using my tongue, and and he got angry with me!" Orochimaru was whining again.
His psychiatrist began writing his suicide note.
"So I was like, 'Kabuto, you have to do this properly! How many times have I told you to start at the bottom!' Then I made a careless remark to him, 'Honestly, for a guy with long hair, you don't brush very well.' Well, he stormed out of the room and I had to take care of that knot all by myself. And that was the day we were going to annihilate that dagnammit leaf place, too. I am just having such a bad day!" the "villain" said.
The psychiatrist involuntarily grunted, which Orochimaru, darn him, took as encouragement to keep talking.
"I mean, I understand Kabuto's irritation (No you don't!, the psychiatrist screamed in his head) because his hair sucks and mine is great (God help me!), but he doesn't have to be so mean about it. Last night, I caught him standing over me with a kunai, and I just knew he was trying to cut my hair off—my long, beautiful hair! He was going to make me, Orochimaru, one of the Three Legendary Sannin, bald! The horrors!" Orochimaru said in a serious tone.
The psychiatrist gagged on his own spit, a suicide method not on his list.
"Are you OK?" Orochimaru asked, finally paying attention to the man he harassed with his problems on a weekly basis.
The psychiatrist nodded, then, taking quick advantage of the lapse in chatter from the pale man on the sofa, he said, "Why don't you talk about after the invasion?"
"OK," Orochimaru said happily. "When we got back after the invasion, I obviously had to take a shower, and I had Tayuya do my hair since Kabuto is clearly incapable of doing it right." Orochimaru sniffed delicately. "She, on the other hand, did a grand job. Look at that shine!" Orochimaru exclaimed, primping his hair. "Too bad that dorky cloud kid and his wind-using girl friend had to kill her."
The psychiatrist groaned.
"Sasuke's fight was awesome, wasn't it? I hope he doesn't have a lot of scars from it, though. Oh my goodness, what if he doesn't use Herbal Essences Fortification Pink and Fruity Shampoo and Conditioner? Aaaaaaaaaagh!"
As Orochimaru screamed at the thought of his new container using the wrong shampoo, the psychiatrist stood up and walked to his desk. Pulling a 9mm handgun out of the usually locked top drawer (except during Orochimaru's sessions), the psychiatrist put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Except he couldn't put it all the way to his head and as soon as he pulled the trigger, a sand wall came up to block the bullet, sending it flying around the room.
Orochimaru continued talking, ignoring the sand and bullets ricocheting off the walls, as Gaara the psychiatrist fired off multiple bullets in an attempt to kill himself. Why on earth did I decide to become a psychiatrist? he thought. Darn you, Naruto, for making me explore my emotions!
"Sasuke does have beautiful hair, though," Gaara heard Orochimaru say. He sighed as he put the gun back, reminding himself to purchase more bullets for next week. He sat back down, defeated.
"He needs a new do, though. I mean, it is a great way to eliminate split ends, but I mean, can you say 'Elongated Chicken-Butt?'" Orochimaru giggled as if this was the funniest thing ever.
It is at times like these when Gaara is grateful for all the time he has spent with the One-Tailed Shukaku, if only because he already knows what insanity is like.
"When I get Sasuke's body, I am going to give him a whole new look. Hhmm, I should start planning for that. I remember when I got this body. Darn, did I have to do some work! I am telling you, this guy had full-on buck teeth!"
"That's great," Gaara said, "but can we get back to after the invasion? And after you had your hair done?" Gaara quickly added to avoid a re-discussion of Orochimaru's hair.
"Of course," Orochimaru said, once he stopped blinking.
Did he just apply more makeup or was he just surprised? Gaara thought.
"Sorry, my eyeliner was coming off. Anyway, Sasuke is like a super-good fighter and once I convince him to come to me for power, I can take over his body! Hooray!" Orochimaru clapped his hands delightedly. "I have to wait three years first, of course."
Normally, Gaara would have nodded sympathetically, but instead he went back to scribbling death plans in his notebook, only this time, they were for Orochimaru.
"Then I can really take over Konoha! But what am I going to do about Kabuto? I rely on him, believe it or not, for more than just hair and makeup assistance." Orochimaru sat up, a serious look on his face. "He is a true fighter, also."
At least he didn't do that creepy tongue-thing this time, Gaara thought.
"Oh, I know! I'll throw him a sleepover! We can get manicures and makeovers, watch romantic comedies, and eat caramel pop corn!"
Gaara blinked. Then he quietly stood up and went to the adjoining bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and took out all the bottles and containers and brought them back to his office. He poured everything into his blender and put it on at top speed to drown out the noise of Orochimaru talking about his favorite nail polish colors.
He poured the drug-juice down his throat and then licked the inside of the container. He waited for it to kill him as Orochimaru began discussing the merits of Pearly Purple Shininess.
It didn't work. In much the same way as the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox keeps Naruto alive and heals him quickly, the Shukaku fought the drug cocktail and Gaara only farted once as a result of the Shukaku's efforts and the drug-juice potion.
"Wow," Orochimaru said, "that looks painful." He was staring at Gaara's clenched fists and red face (which Gaara involuntarily did to get the fart out) when he caught a whiff of the fart. "Dagnammit," he said.
Gaara couldn't smell it himself (probably thanks to the Shukaku again), but he guessed from Orochimaru's sudden speechlessness that it smelt pretty bad.
The room was silent for a moment.
"What do you want to say about the last week?" Gaara the psychiatrist asked, ignoring the awkward atmosphere.
"Ooh, well, let's see. Oh, I know, let's talks about getting Sasuke! I sent those four ninja back to Konoha to get him and remind him of the cursed seal, and I am actually glad the Konoha ninja defeated them all. I can't have crappy ninja working for meeee," he said, waggling a finger and emphasizing the 'e' in 'me.' "Also, their deaths showed me something important."
Gaara sat up, expecting Orochimaru to talk about how the shinobi of Konoha are very good to be able to defeat his best guards, but he realized that was stupid thought as soon as Orochimaru said, "I don't even remember their names! Well, I remember Tayuya (Cause of the hair, Gaara thought) cause she did my hair (Surprise, surprise!) but the other three, the fat guy, Two-Heads, and Iruka-wannabe, I have no clue what their names are. Not that it matters. Clearly, they were not memorable enough. Maybe, if they just spent less time training and more time grooming, it would be better. Like that pink-haired girl from Konoha." Gaara suppressed a laugh.
"At least Kimimaro, Kami rest his soul, understood the importance of maintaining a good complexion and strong bones."
Gaara could not help it. The gurgly-laugh left his mouth anyway.
Orochimaru continued talking. "Of course, Kimimaro was weakened by whatever illness he had, so I guess it did not matter about his hair" the man said sadly. "Ooh, you know who has really great hair? Besides myself, " he added, feigning modestly. "Hatake Kakashi! I have always wanted to get my hair to stand up like that but it never works. I wonder who his hair dresser is?" Orochimaru seemed to ponder this as Gaara reviewed his suicide plans. He had already tried two...
"Kakashi and Mitarashi Anko must use the same hair gel. Her pony tail is also gravity-defying, same as that Shikamaru kid, too," Orochimaru muttered. "Or maybe they all do some strange jutsu to their hair?"
"Does it matter?" Gaara asked sharply.
Orochimaru glared at him. "Of course it matters," he said. Gaara could almost feel the italics in his voice. He tried not to wince.
"Good hair is an essential part of being a ninja. Take Tsuchi Kin, for instance, my father former subordinate who I unfortunately had to kill to invade Konoha (And we all know how that went, Gaara thought evilly.). Her hair was long but not as shiny as that Sakura girl. Thus, no one, wanted to help her and I had to kill her."
Gaara decided to try the third method on his list. If it doesn't work, I'm killing him! The redhaired psychiatrist thought.
He retrieved a rope from the drawer beneath the one holding the gun and stood on his desk to tie it to the hook he had installed yesterday.
"When Anko was my student, I tried to get her to follow me, and I even gave her a seal and taught her some of my moves but she refuses to use the seal at all. I think her hair has something to do with it. The better a person's own hair is, the more resistant they are to my own charms." Orochimaru smiled what he thought was a seductive manner, but as Gaara looked up from the noose he was fastening around his neck, he couldn't help but wonder how Orochimaru had learned to smile in a manner so similar to the Cheshire cat grin of Naruto.
Gaara quickly jumped off the desk, waiting to hear his neck snap. He mentally twiddled his thumbs, wondering how long exactly a hanging took.
Baka! The one-tailed Shukaku screamed at him. Will you stop trying to kill yourself?
Get that sand out from under my feet.
The Shukaku refused, so Gaara was left standing on a pile of firm sand with a rope loosely around his neck, listening as Orochimaru talked about how hard he (sniff) worked to get people to (sniff-sniff) listen to him.
"I even took Evil Classes!"
Oh Kami, thought Gaara, as he moved back onto the desk to untie the rope.
"We learned how to talk, dance, and sing."
"Huh? Dance and sing? In evil classes?" Gaara could not believe this, and he was not sure if he should laugh, cry, or run away screaming.
"Well, yeah, there are some villains who need to be able to burst into song every now and then. Though I've never used it. I was top in the class," he said brightly.
Gaara stared, holding the rope from his third attempt in his hands.
"But, that did create a few problems for me. The pseudonym I chose seems to have been the name of some singer with a famous Halloween song. Thrilling, or something like that. Anyway, you would not believe how many times people ask me for my autograph, only to realize I am not the guy they want. Though I have no problems with signing stuff for people as I am a famous villain."
Gaara smiled when he remembered his list and decided it was time he tried one of the other plans. Quickly wrapping the rope around his elbow from his hand, he hopped off his desk, and walked over to Orochimaru, the singing, laughing, dancing villain.
If Orochimaru wore more green, Gaara thought, you could easily replace "villain" with "happy elf." Except Orochimaru was not actually singing, but that was beside the point. As a psychiatrist, Gaara recognized the potential was there.
He walked towards Orochimaru, who lay oblivious on the sofa, once again rattling off about some topic Gaara had heard many times before from the pale, white man. About how, in another place, people thought he was some man named Vanderbilt.
"They called me an evil wizard. I had no clue what the heck that kid was talking about, but I still can't get his face out of my head. He had a scar on his forehead," Orochimaru said aloud while Gaara said it in his head. "And, he kept calling me 'Vanderbilt' and told me to stop the snakes or else." Gaara was perfectly on time with Orochimaru. "So of course I used a water prison technique on the dumb brats so they would stop trying to poke me with their sticks—honestly, who do they think I am—but the stupid girl managed to get out with the redhead kid and—hey, what are you doing?"
Orochimaru finally noticed the rope around his neck that Gaara was pulling tighter and tighter.
"Is this a new ninjutsu therapy?" Orochimaru asked brightly.