Orochimaru was more than eager to return home, and had only stopped to turn in his report at the mission desk first so not to have to leave it again for at least some days; he had known his mate had returned already, and he had already heard murmurs - outside the village as well as within - of the newly brewing war, but he had not expected to hear the mutters he was now.

Orochimaru stepped through the doors into the mission desk silently, his chakra raging under his skin, and waited for that to announce his presence; it didn't take long, with that acid weight spreading, but still long enough for Orochimaru to search out each voice laying blame on Hatake for saving his teammates and drawing Suna into war, as though he had done anything wrong, as though they were ever more than a breath from war, as though- Orochimaru hissed and stalked across the room to drop his report on the table, then whirled and left them behind; suddenly he had even more reason to be home. . .