The frost that limns the tree branches, making them treacherous and unfriendly (His foot slipped twice and the second time he scraped the skin raw on his palms trying to catch himself quietly). The oily scent of ramen from the stand across the road (He’s never liked ramen, the taste reminds him too much of meals at home). The stone nin with the flying blond hair that whipped him across the face when he appeared at her side (Her blood stains his front now; he twisted the kunai in her gut to repay her for the pain of her hair in his eyes).

The fact that it is Thursday, 4th of September and Sensei told him not to forget. Told him last week and the day before and on the way out of the Village too. Hates the day and hates the tradition and hates Sensei and the others because he has forgotten and if he forgets he loses his chance.

No, not loses, just diminishes.

In his current mood the distinction is lost. His lip curls in unfocussed irritation and he kicks at the street curb, scraping viscera from the side of his boot. Passers-by turn their eyes on the small child and smile fondly at him. So cute. Such a lovely little boy. He hates them too.

The afternoon is turning towards evening and soon the stores will be closing. Orochimaru searches his memory for “things that make good presents”. Things that an eleven year old girl would appreciate for her birthday. Something to make her eyes light up so that Sensei will see her pleasure and in turn be pleased with Orochimaru. Will not be so hesitant about turning over the key to his private library.

Look, Sensei! I’m a good boy! I do nice things for my team mates, just like you want me to!

I don’t forget the girl’s birthday, I would never do that. I have put thought into this gift, Sensei and I know it’s perfect. She’ll love it and she’ll love me. Because I love her, Sensei, I care.

Now give me the key.

But the trouble is that he did forget, even though he promised himself that he would not. And as he stands there with the light fading towards evening he is furious with himself for being so careless. He needs Sensei to take him seriously. He needs those scrolls!

The problem is that Orochimaru hasn’t the faintest idea what could possibly please Tsunade. Girls like pretty things. He likes pretty things too, but not of the same sort. He doesn’t think she would appreciate a little grass snake with shining jet eyes and forest emerald skin. She would scream that horrid, piercing shriek of hers and drop the precious creature to the ground. She might even stand on it.

He frowns. The owner of the store directly in front of him has come outside to bring in the tubs of flowers on display across the pavement. She is almost finished by the time it occurs to him that girls are fond of flowers. Curling his fingers into his palms to conceal the bloodstains, he approaches her, just as she is hauling the last tub inside the door.

“Excuse me, ma’am. May I have a bunch of those please?”

She looks up and then down, startled by the sudden voice. And then her face breaks into the smile that all the adults have when he uses his “wide-eyed” look on them, the one that Jiraiya hates so much. He is a little shocked at just how much the flowers cost him, he hadn’t expected them to be quite that much, but he manages to keep his dismay off his face as he hands over his coins. In the end it will be worth it.

He ignores the woman’s teasing comments as she asks him if the roses are for his sweetheart, and simply smiles sweetly before slipping away into the crowd and down a side alley. Away from the homebound crowds he stops and looks at the bunch of flowers speculatively. They smell sweet and have long thorns that prick his fingers through the wrapping plastic. They’re also quite pointless. Tsunade doesn’t like pointless things he thinks.

But what else? The stores are closed and this is all he has. It’s your own fault for letting the date slip from your mind, he thinks angrily.

Across the alley a door opens and angry voices spill out from within. An adult and a child, older than himself but still young. Clutching the flowers in one hand he watches and listens curiously. It sounds as though someone else is having at least as bad a day as he is.

The argument is heated and made one-sided by parental authority. For all the child’s pleas, the desperate emotion and last-ditch wheedling, he still loses the battle. Orochimaru listens intently and as he tracks the twists of the quarrel, the beginnings of interest begin to stir in him. Fortuitous opportunity.

When the child steps out of his house, slamming the door behind him with a face made dark with heartfelt fury, Orochimaru is ready. Eyes that waver with tears look up suspiciously at him and the boy’s form hunches over protectively when the young genin approaches him.

It doesn’t take long, for Orochimaru can be subtle and silver-tongued when the need arises. So when the boy proffers the box to him, he wastes no time in reaching inside.

Jiraiya’s face is perfect when he sees the gift. His jaw drops and then snaps closed and the furious scowl that darkens his features as he glares jealously at Orochimaru is one that the young genin, studying diligently in Sarutobi’s private library, will treasure for weeks.

Tsunade’s squeal of delight when he presents her with the gift seals the deal. Even better that Sensei stands looking over her shoulder. Orochimaru understands all too well the art of timing. He can see in Sarutobi’s eyes that he has won this battle; the key to the library and the power it represents are both his.

And the price of power?

A last minute bunch of roses and one tiny, wide-eyed kitten.