Naruto: I Became Orochimaru's Apprentice-Chapter 2: Disobedience

The lair was quiet that morning, save for the soft drip of water leaking from cracks in the stone ceiling.

'It must be raining outside.' Teriyaki sighed, knowing leaving the lair was impossible for now. Teriyaki sat on the edge of his makeshift bed, spinning a paper shuriken between his fingers.

The door creaked open.

"Come with me." Orochimaru's voice was loud and enthusiastic. "We have work to do."

Teriyaki groaned but stood, sliding his feet lazily across the floor. "What is it this time?" He muttered.

Orochimaru ignored the comment but his eyes squinted, he took Teriyaki's hand firmly leading him down the narrow hallways. "It's time you studied the workings of a cell. Cell biology is-."

Teriyaki barely stifled a sigh. "Cells again? When do I actually get to learn jutsu?" He quickened his step to walk beside Orochimaru, arms crossed. "I've already mastered the water techniques you gave me. If you're just going to make me a scientist, what's the point?"

Orochimaru licked his lips, his hand was trembling and cold like metal, Teriyaki realised his hand was being crushed by Orochimaru's grip.

Orochimaru's steps didn't falter, but Teriyaki caught the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his master's mouth.

"And where," Orochimaru said softly, "did you get the impression you knew enough to decide what you are ready for?"

Teriyaki shrugged. "I just know you are a great ninja. I want to learn real techniques, I think studying the cell isn't going to help me become as strong as if I just studied techniques. That's all we want right? Strength?"

Orochimaru stopped. They stood before a metal door Teriyaki hadn't seen before — one covered in deep scratches, like something had tried to claw its way out long ago.

"Is that so?" Orochimaru asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Then allow me to correct your misunderstanding."

Without warning, Orochimaru's hand seized the back of Teriyaki's neck, his grip vice-like, fingers unnaturally cold. Before Teriyaki could react, Orochimaru shoved the door open and threw him inside.

The door slammed shut behind him. The room was pitch-black.

"Wha— hey! What the hell is this?" Teriyaki shouted, slamming his fist against the door. No response.

Then, something breathed in the dark.

Teriyaki froze. The air was thick — humid, stinking of copper and something sour. A faint click-click-click echoed from the far corner of the room, like nails tapping against stone.

Suddenly, a dim, sickly green light flickered to life, revealing the room's contents.

Teriyaki's stomach dropped.

The walls were covered in faces — stitched flesh, mismatched body parts fused together like a grotesque collage. Some faces were frozen in fear, others contorted in agony. But the worst were the ones still moving— mouths wordlessly opening and closing, some eyes darting side to side, eternally awake.

"Cells," Orochimaru's voice whispered from nowhere, though it was clear he was watching. "This is what happens when cells do not bond with each other, when they host negative reactions."

A long arm slid down from the ceiling—a mass of flesh, stitched from at least five different limbs, fingers too long, skin mismatched in color. The hand reached toward Teriyaki.

Teriyaki stumbled backward, heart racing.

"It's odd, Teriyaki," Orochimaru purred. "I don't think I ever gave you permission to think of yourself as more than a disposable toy."

Orichimaru's hand grabbed his ankle, and suddenly the room shifted. The walls seemed to breathe, the stitched faces groaning as if the walls themselves were alive.

Teriyaki began hyperventilating, stuck in this bloody room where Orichimaru slowly began engraving his identity.

"You are disposable. You can be thrown out at any moment. You are nothing special."

"Do not ever doubt me again, I will not hold back the next time you show disobedience."

The torture lasted all day. Teriyaki's body ended up looking like he had been through every stage of hell. Scars and bruises, burn marks and scalded patches of skin.

Somewhere in the dark, Teriyaki lost his sense of time. His confidence evaporated. He forgot whether he was awake or asleep. Playing his know-it-all attitude had been the worst decision possible.

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By the time the door creaked open again, Teriyaki stumbled out like a newborn fawn — legs weak, trembling, his face pale and clammy. Orochimaru stood in the hallway, arms folded, a cruel smile playing at his lips.

"Still eager to learn jutsu, are you?" Orochimaru asked softly. His eyes glowing golden, and his lips pursed as if to mock the injured child.

Teriyaki said nothing. His throat was dry, and words felt impossible, especially after everything hed just been through. He just shuffled past his master, dragging his feet, the flickering torchlight making his shadow tremble along with his body.

Back in his room, Teriyaki collapsed onto his bed, curling into himself, hands gripping the blanket like a lifeline.

Orochimaru's voice echoed in his mind.

"Know your place, Teriyaki."

That night, he didn't sleep. His body was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was the faces on the walls and all he felt was the pain of Orichimaru's blows, each accompanied by a condescending quote.

He couldn't disobey Orichimaru.

The next day Orichimaru acted like the events of that day never happened.