Chapter 274: Hard to Kill
Malik drifted in the void, unsure of where his mind had taken him. The dream world—usually his domain, where his power flowed freely and effortlessly—had betrayed him. He was trapped, his body frozen, paralyzed in a state of unyielding stillness. He couldn't move, couldn't see. Whether his eyes were closed or he was enveloped in pure, impenetrable darkness, he couldn't tell.
But he could feel.
The sensation was strange and unsettling, his heightened senses catching every detail. His skin prickled as something cold and slimy brushed against him—a giant, serpentine body sliding across his chest, wrapping tightly around him in slow, deliberate coils. It pressed against his immobile form, constricting but not suffocating, its texture leaving an undeniable trail of moisture behind.
The air grew heavier, laden with an eerie presence that made Malik's pulse quicken. He couldn't see it, but he felt it—the oppressive weight of someone watching him, someone dangerously close.
And then, it spoke.
"My, my. Look at you…"
The voice was familiar, unmistakable in its chilling, predatory tone. It slithered into Malik's ears like venom, sweet and sharp, laced with a poison that didn't kill but intoxicated.
"Did you miss me, Malik?"
His breath caught, his mind racing as the realization struck him. Orochimaru.
He couldn't see her, but he could feel her presence—overwhelming and invasive, like she had seeped into the very fabric of his dream. Her voice was soft, whispering in a way that crawled under his skin, yet there was an unnerving edge to it, a hint of obsessive longing that made his stomach tighten.
He felt her hand next, the long, sharp nails tracing slow, deliberate paths across his unmoving face. Her touch was icy, but the precision of her movements betrayed a strange tenderness—a calculated care born of something deeper, darker.
"You've been so far away for so long," Orochimaru whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I've missed you terribly."
Malik wanted to respond, to speak, to move, but the dream held him captive. He was helpless, bound by whatever force had paralyzed him in this strange, ethereal realm.
Orochimaru continued, her tone shifting into something richer, heavier—a velvet-like obsession that carried both danger and desire.
"You've no idea what I've been working on, Malik. The experiments, the creations… such beautiful chaos I've brought into existence." Her hand slid lower, her nails brushing over his jawline, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. "They don't understand me—the Akatsuki. It's always been a girls' club, hasn't it? So many of them talking, scheming… and me?"
She paused, her snake-like body tightening around his immobile form.
"I'm just an artist, you know. A visionary. They'll never appreciate what I bring to the table." Orochimaru's tone turned darker, her voice curling like smoke. "But you… you'll listen, won't you? You always do."
Malik's heart thundered in his chest, though his body betrayed none of the panic coursing through him. He felt her lips brush against his ear, her words laced with an intoxicating blend of adoration and cruelty.
"I'm so glad you're coming to see me. We have so much to talk about."
Her voice dropped lower, her words almost inaudible. "There's a surprise waiting for you, Malik. But not now, not yet. The look on your face when you see it in person is going to be far too good to spoil it here."
There was a weight to her words—a subtle, veiled hint of something she wasn't saying outright. But Malik, in his paralyzed state, couldn't piece it together. His mind raced, searching for meaning in her cryptic promise, but the dream refused to grant him clarity.
She flicked her tongue against his face suddenly, the wet, slimy sensation making his stomach churn. The snake-like motion was deliberate, invasive, as though she were marking him somehow.
"You taste wonderful," Orochimaru murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Just as I imagined."
Her coils tightened further, wrapping around him like a constrictor preparing to consume its prey. He felt her weight settle against his chest, her body pressing into him as though she intended to merge her presence with his.
"Rest now," she whispered softly, her voice carrying a dangerous lullaby-like quality. "Dream sweetly, my dear Malik. We'll see each other soon enough."
With that, the darkness grew heavier, swallowing him whole as the dream spiraled deeper into the void.
Malik's mind raced like a storm, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and panic. Was he dreaming? If so, why couldn't he wake up? What was happening to his actual body in the real world? And why, oh why, was Orochimaru's touch on his skin sending shivers down his spine? He tried to focus, to push past the paralyzing fear that gripped him, but it was no use. He was trapped, a puppet to her whims.
He felt her nails on his chest, soft and sharp at the same time, a sensation that was both pleasurable and painful. Was he naked? He couldn't tell, couldn't feel anything but her touch, her presence. And then, her tongue, long and snake-like, flicked against his face, a wet, slimy sensation that made his stomach churn.
"Fine, if you choose not to rest on your own, I will help you," Orochimaru whispered, her voice dripping with a sinister sweetness. Her hands moved lower, lower, until they found their mark. His cock, soft and thick, lay limp in her hands. She teased him, her fingers playing with him, a cruel smile on her lips.
"Why aren't you hard for me, Malik?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of anger. "After all this time, I would have thought you'd be more... eager."
Malik felt a sharp, sudden pain as her fangs sank into his neck, her bite brutal and claiming. He felt something hot enter his body, a surge of energy that coursed through his veins, igniting a fire within him. His cock, once soft, now stood at attention, hard and throbbing.
Orochimaru pulled back, her body changing, morphing into something more human-like, though still retaining the smooth, cold, and slimy texture of her snake form. She climbed on top of him, her body straddling his unmoving form. He felt her hands on his cock, guiding it, positioning it at her entrance.
"Oh, Malik," she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of desire and longing. "It's been so long. I've missed this... so much."
And then, she lowered herself onto him, her pussy tight and hot, a scalding inferno that enveloped his cock. She was incredibly tight, her walls clenching around him, a sensation that was both pleasurable and painful. She let out a soft moan, her body tensing as she adjusted to his size.
"Oh, Malik," she gasped, her voice filled with a mix of pleasure and pain. "You're... so big. I've... missed this."
She began to move, her hips rocking back and forth, her body sliding up and down his cock. She was slow at first, her movements deliberate, as though she was savoring the sensation. But soon, her pace quickened, her body moving faster, harder, her nails digging into his chest as she rode him.
Malik felt every movement, every thrust, every clench of her pussy around his cock. He felt her pleasure, her desire, her need for him. And despite the strange, terrifying situation he found himself in, he couldn't help but respond to her touch, her body, her passion.
She cummed multiple times, her body tensing, her pussy clamping down on him as waves of pleasure coursed through her. But each time, she would start anew, her body moving, her hips rocking, her pussy sliding up and down his cock.
And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, they cummed together. It was intense, explosive, a release that shook them both to their cores. He felt his cock pulsing, felt his cum filling her up, felt her pussy sucking and tightening, not letting a single drop of his essence leave her body.
She pulled off him, her body changing back into her snake form, her coils wrapping around him once more. He felt her pussy, now a smooth, wet opening on her body, sucking and tightening, drawing out every last drop of his cum.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
The underground tunnels stretched endlessly, weaving like veins beneath the land, shrouded in impenetrable darkness. Kakashi moved swiftly, each step calculated, the echo of his pursuit rebounding off the damp stone walls. The hooded figure ahead remained elusive, neither attacking nor defending—only evading. That, in itself, was strange.
As an experienced shinobi, Kakashi knew when he was being toyed with. Whoever this person was, they had the ability to lose him completely, yet they chose not to. They made sure he kept up, keeping him just within reach but always slipping away at the last second.
The terrain beneath his feet fluctuated—some areas were dry and solid, while others were slick with moisture, forcing him to adjust his footing. The air was damp, thick, and carried the faint scent of earth and something old, something forgotten.
But the real mystery was what Kakashi kept seeing.
Every now and then, as the hooded figure twisted through the tunnels, a flash of pink light pulsed faintly from beneath their cloak. Not a weapon. Not an attack. Their eyes.
Pink, like Malik's.
Yet, while Malik's eyes gleamed with boundless warmth, joy, and untamed energy, these eyes were different—colder, crueler, hollow with isolation.
Kakashi wasn't sure why, but the way they evaded him—the way they moved—felt familiar.
Then it hit him.
Malik didn't fight like a normal shinobi. He didn't rely on chakra, but on magic. His movements were dictated by his flight, his ability to misdirect and confuse opponents.
And this figure—whoever they were—was doing the same thing.
As Kakashi sprinted through the tunnels, every step sending echoes through the damp stone corridors, his mind raced—but not just with urgency. Memories flooded in, brief flashes of past conversations with two people who knew Malik best. Conversations that, until this moment, hadn't seemed particularly important.
Memory One: Shisui's Quiet Amusement
It was after one of their training sessions—more of a spar, really—a warm afternoon in the Hidden Leaf, the sun hanging low, stretching golden light across the training grounds.
Kakashi rolled his shoulders, easing out the stiffness after their usual warm-up routines. The air was rich with the scent of earth and sweat, the faint hum of wind rustling through the trees nearby. Across from him, Shisui Uchiha, the infamous Phantom Flicker, smirked as she stretched out her arms, barely looking winded despite the intensity of their sparring.
"You're still fast," Kakashi mused, pulling his mask down just enough to take a swig from his water bottle.
Shisui chuckled, shaking her head. "You say that like it's surprising."
Kakashi lifted a brow slightly, but Shisui's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with something mischievous—a shift from her usual, more serious demeanor.
"You know who isn't fast?" Shisui said, tilting her head slightly.
Kakashi took another sip before responding. "Who?"
"My husband," she answered, her voice heavy with amusement.
Kakashi blinked once, looking at her. Malik? Not fast?
"He flies," Kakashi pointed out, wiping some sweat from his temple. "That alone should make him faster than anyone on foot."
Shisui laughed, stretching her arms overhead. "Oh, you'd think! But he's lazy with it. I swear, if he could, he'd float everywhere instead of walking—just slowly drifting through the village like some lost balloon."
Kakashi smirked faintly, the mental image too easy to conjure.
"He relies on his magic too much," Shisui continued, shaking her head. "I watch him sometimes. He doesn't fly fast unless he's forced to. He's got more raw power than anyone else, but you wouldn't know it watching him glide around like he's sightseeing."
"Efficient," Kakashi offered.
"Lazy," Shisui corrected, grinning.
Kakashi hummed thoughtfully. It was true—Malik had a tendency to move as little as possible, conserving energy in ways only someone completely comfortable with their own abilities would dare.
"He's dangerous because of that," Kakashi murmured, more to himself than to Shisui.
Shisui nodded, the amusement in her expression shifting into something more knowing. "Exactly."
Memory Two: Sakura's Unspoken Worry
It had been a quiet afternoon, Kakashi walking alongside Naruto and Sakura as they traveled down a winding forest path toward their next mission location. The air was crisp, the scent of damp leaves thick as recent rainfall clung to the earth.
Naruto, true to form, had been complaining about the walk, lamenting loudly about why they hadn't taken a shortcut or some easier path.
Sakura ignored him completely, eyes focused on something in the distance as she walked a few paces ahead.
Kakashi noticed it first—the way her gaze lingered upward, watching the sky, her expression shifting into something quietly nostalgic.
He followed her gaze, spotting what had caught her attention—a large flock of birds, rising suddenly from the treetops, their wings flaring against the golden afternoon light.
"Reminds me of Malik," Sakura said after a pause, her voice softer than usual.
Kakashi glanced at her but said nothing, giving her space to continue if she wanted.
"He always talks about flight," she murmured, watching the birds disappear into the horizon. "It's like—it's more than just magic to him. It's freedom."
There was a weight in her tone, something more personal beneath her words.
"He's got too much freedom," Naruto interjected unhelpfully, crossing his arms. "Dude just disappears whenever he wants. Wish I had that kinda luxury!"
Kakashi sighed. "Malik isn't free the way you think he is."
Sakura glanced at Kakashi briefly, as if she understood what he meant.
Naruto, predictably, didn't. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sakura didn't let him finish.
"Idiot," she huffed, bonking Naruto cleanly on the head.
"Ow! What was that for?!" Naruto whined, rubbing his scalp as he shot her an accusatory glare.
"For talking before thinking," she retorted with zero patience, though Kakashi noticed the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
Kakashi chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. Naruto never changed.
But Malik—Malik carried more weight than most people realized.
And now, as Kakashi raced through the tunnels, those memories felt heavier than they had before.
Back to the Present
Kakashi stopped running.
The second he did, the hooded figure stopped, too.
Silence settled between them, the only sounds in the tunnels being the quiet dripping of water and Kakashi's steady breaths.
The shinobi narrowed his eye, confirming what he had suspected. The flashes of pink light weren't tricks. They were the figure's eyes, glowing softly beneath their hood.
Kakashi exhaled, keeping his stance firm but lowering his guard just slightly. He decided to ask the only question that mattered.
"Are you worried about Malik?"
The figure tensed, their shoulders falling just slightly.
Their head tilted, the way Malik's did when he was deep in thought.
Then, without hesitation, they lifted their hand and threw Kakashi the crystal.
Kakashi caught it effortlessly, fingers closing around the softly glowing pink stone.
It was warm—unnaturally so.
He stared at the figure, watching as they raised their hand, casting magic in a way that was uncannily similar to Malik. A hole in the air shimmered open before them—an escape, much like the portals Malik used when traveling long distances.
Kakashi let them go.
Whoever they were, they had given up when asked the question.
They had let him see their hesitation.
They had given him something important.
As the hooded figure stepped through the portal and disappeared, Kakashi turned his attention back to the crystal, feeling the energy pulsing within it.
It was linked to Malik—he was sure of it.
Slowly, he closed his fingers around it, gripping the stone tightly. And then—
He crushed it.
The second it shattered, a terrible sound erupted—a high-pitched, agonized hiss, like a snake being killed. The noise reverberated through the tunnels, bouncing off the walls like a dying scream.
Kakashi's heart lurched, and an immediate sense of urgency overtook him.
"Whatever that was..." he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
His instincts screamed at him. But now, as he gripped the lingering warmth of Malik's shattered crystal, those memories sharpened into clarity.
The moment Kakashi crushed the crystal, he knew something had happened.
The horrifying hiss, the dying cry of a snake, reverberated through the tunnels, sending a chill through his spine. Something had been severed—broken—undone.
And whatever it was, it had everything to do with Malik.
Kakashi didn't hesitate.
With renewed urgency, he launched himself forward, speeding toward the surface as fast as his body would allow.
"Malik—whatever you're in the middle of right now..." Kakashi thought grimly, "I'd bet money you've found even more trouble."
And somehow, he knew he was right.
Malik was in more trouble.
Without another thought, Kakashi turned and ran, racing toward the surface as fast as his legs would carry him.
=== Back with our Dog Malik ---
Malik's consciousness floated in the murky depths of the dream world—a place that had always bent to his will, a sanctuary of his own making. But now, it was unrecognizable, warped into a labyrinth of shadows and whispers. The air was thick, suffocating, and his body was ensnared, bound tightly in the unyielding embrace of a colossal serpent. Its scales were slick and cold, pressing against his skin with a clammy persistence that made his every nerve scream in discomfort. Yet, it wasn't the serpent's grip that truly unnerved him—it was her voice.
"You've always been so radiant, Malik…" Orochimaru's words seeped into his mind like a slow, insidious poison. Her voice was a paradox—silken and soft, yet brimming with an undercurrent of obsession that coiled tighter with every syllable. It was a melody designed to ensnare, to burrow deep into the recesses of his thoughts and take root.
"Do you feel it?" she purred, her breath ghosting against his ear, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Her nails, sharp and deliberate, traced languid patterns across his face, as if she were etching her claim into his very being. "This bond between us… it's ancient, unbreakable. Deeper than dreams, deeper than the fabric of magic itself."
Her tongue flicked against his cheek, a wet, invasive touch that made his stomach churn with revulsion. She was too close, her presence overwhelming, suffocating. Yet, his body remained paralyzed, a prisoner to the surreal nightmare that refused to release him.
"I've missed you, my sweet Malik," she whispered, her tone dripping with a toxic blend of longing and possession. "You've wandered so far, but I've felt you every step of the way. Your power… your brilliance… it sings to me, a siren's call I cannot ignore."
The serpent's coils tightened around him, a physical manifestation of her words, as if her very voice had the power to constrict. She sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken desires, her weight pressing down on him like an anchor.
"The others," she continued, her voice tinged with disdain, "they don't understand me. They never have. The Akatsuki… they're all chatter and schemes, a cacophony of mediocrity. But me? I am an artist, a creator. And you, Malik, you are my masterpiece."
Her nails trailed down to his jawline, her touch both tender and menacing. "You've always listened to me, haven't you? You've always understood."
Malik's mind raced, a desperate search for an escape, but the dream was relentless, a maze with no exit. Orochimaru's whispers grew heavier, more intimate, wrapping around him like a second set of chains.
"I've been crafting something," she murmured for the 100th no the 1000th time, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. "Something exquisite. For you."
There was a pause, pregnant with anticipation, before she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "But not yet. The unveiling must be perfect. The look in your eyes when you see it… it will be worth every moment of waiting."
Malik's pulse thundered in his ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the tightening of the serpent's grip. She shifted, her weight settling heavily on his chest, her presence an inescapable force.
"Rest now, my dear Malik," she crooned, her voice taking on an almost lullaby-like cadence. "Let the haze take you. Let me take you."
And then, there was a sudden, sharp crunch.
Orochimaru stiffened, her serpentine body freezing in place as her voice cut off abruptly. "What was…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Malik's eyes snapped open, burning with a fiery pink light that radiated with impossible intensity, illuminating the darkness around them like an explosion of power.
Orochimaru barely had time to react before Malik's will surged outward, unraveling her coils from his body as though they were threads being unwoven.
He floated upward, his gaze sharp, his expression calm.
But there was no anger or hatred in his eyes.
Instead, Malik smiled—a soft, knowing smile that left Orochimaru momentarily stunned.
"Orochimaru," he began, his voice rich and steady, "you look good. But next time?" He tilted his head slightly, his pink eyes glinting with playful warmth. "Just contact me through the dream world the normal way, my sweet, crazy snake lady wifu."
With a simple snap of his fingers, the dream world shifted violently, the edges of its fabric pulling Orochimaru out. She was pushed out, her presence vanishing like smoke caught in a whirlwind.
Malik exhaled deeply, shaking his head as the dream dissolved around him.
"Time to wake up," he murmured—and he did.
Back in the waking world, Konan and Tobi were making incredible time, navigating through the dense forest with an efficiency that matched their skill. Though they still had days of travel ahead, their progress was impressive. Konan, ever stoic, focused solely on the path, doing her best to ignore Tobi entirely.
Tobi, meanwhile, seemed content to chatter away, her voice bouncing off the trees despite Konan's pointed silence.
Konan's mind drifted, however, pulled back into a memory—a conversation she'd had with Itachi Uchiha.
===Flashback - Itachi's Warning===
The hallway was dimly lit, the silence broken only by the soft sounds of footsteps as Konan and Itachi walked side by side.
Konan's fingers curled tightly around the snake charms Orochimaru had given her, their cold, metallic surfaces sending a faint chill through her skin.
"You should be careful," Itachi said softly, her voice calm but unmistakably serious.
Konan glanced at her, her expression neutral. "Careful of what?"
Itachi's gaze shifted to the charms in Konan's hand. "Malik's magic," she replied. "It's… strange."
Konan raised an eyebrow. "Strange how?"
Itachi paused for a moment, her tone turning thoughtful. "It doesn't obey the rules. It bends reality—not just in the physical world, but in ways we don't fully understand. It's not chakra. It's something else entirely."
She turned her head slightly, meeting Konan's gaze with a knowing look. "If you think you've planned for him, you haven't. Malik doesn't play by the same rules as the rest of us."
Konan frowned, her grip tightening on the charms.
"Just be prepared," Itachi finished, her voice carrying a quiet weight that lingered in the air long after the conversation ended.
-Malik Awakens-
Konan was pulled out of her thoughts by Tobi's voice, the other woman calling her name insistently.
Konan turned, her eyes narrowing as she looked back—and froze.
Malik's body, which had been glowing faintly, was now burning—hot gold and pink light radiating outward in waves of raw power.
Tobi was forced to let go, stumbling back as Konan dashed away, both women retreating—but not far enough.
The light surged, expanding outward as Malik began to transform.
His true form emerged, and it was nothing short of breathtaking:
Grand, angel-like wings stretched wide, their translucent membranes shimmering with molten gold and pink embers. Elegant, upward-curving horns, glowing with pink at the base and polished gold at the tips. His skin, radiant and reflective, gleamed like liquid gold, with soft pink undertones. Piercing, otherworldly eyes burned with gold and pink luminescence. Flowing hair, metallic gold streaked with pink, cascaded down like a treasure hoard.
With a single gesture, Malik cast his spell:
"Poor People BEGONE !!!"
The wave of power was immense, pushing outward with force based on wealth, charisma, and sheer magical energy.
Konan, ever graceful, managed to avoid the worst of the spell, her paper wings fluttering as she evaded.
Tobi, however, used her tricks—slipping into the void just long enough to avoid being hit directly, though Konan didn't notice the maneuver.
Malik floated above them, his radiant form glowing brilliantly against the forest backdrop.
He looked down at them, his pink and gold eyes alight with playful mischief.
"You know," he began, his voice smooth and teasing, "you can't kidnap me. Or at least, not on the first date."
He winked, shaking his finger at them as though chastising two naughty children.
"This just got a lot harder," Tobi muttered, crossing her arms.
Konan, for once, didn't ignore her. She nodded in agreement, her expression grim.