I didn't allow myself to think too much about my chances against the snake Sannin. I wanted to believe I had some, or at least that the results wouldn't be too catastrophic. Not because I thought highly enough of myself to assume I could beat Orochimaru and walk away unscathed, but because of his... current conditions.
I quickly scrapped that line of thinking; his condition just meant he won't act recklessly.
Instead, I just stared back at him after his useless show of politeness, with bored indifference, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Even with Orochimaru operating at less than his full ideal, he could still deal significant and irreparable damage. Damage I'd rather avoid, especially since I wasn't prepared for a fight. And I wasn't exactly at top shape either.
Between the clone feedback headaches, the lack of sleep, and the sluggish chakra after intense activity with the Haruno mother and daughter, I was running on fumes and spite.
Orochimaru held the silence for a long, uncomfortable moment, his yellow slit-pupils unblinking. Eventually, he retracted his arms into his sleeves and let out a small, theatrical cough, as if clearing the awkward air. I doubted the man had the capability to feel awkward. He probably felt awkwardness the same way he felt empathy; purely theoretical concepts he'd read about once.
"Well," Orochimaru drawled, his voice rasping slightly. "Since we seem to be at an impasse of etiquette, perhaps a gesture of goodwill is required." He reached into the back of his obi, movements fluid and deliberate, and produced a small, unassuming scroll. "Consider this a token of apology. For the inconvenience. And for the... unorthodox meeting arrangements."
He tossed the scroll in my direction with a casual flick of his wrist.
I didn't move to catch it. My gaze stayed locked on Orochimaru, tracking the scroll only in my peripheral vision. When it tumbled to the ground near my feet, I let it sit there.
This wasn't paranoia. This was basic tradecraft. You didn't grab mystery objects thrown at you by legendary shinobi or any shinobi for that matter. Losing focus on the enemy was a sure way to invite a kill blow.
Orochimaru's smile widened, but he didn't comment on my caution. "The contents of that scroll will be of great interest to you, I assure you. It's not the sort of thing you'll find gathering dust in the village archives." He made a shooing motion with one hand. "Go on. Don't let me keep you in suspense."
I hummed noncommittally. Internally, curiosity was scratching at the back of my brain like a cat at a closed door, but I kept my eyes on the untrustworthy bastard. I took two careful steps forward. With a quick flick of my foot, I juggled the scroll into the air, grabbed it mid-flight, and inspected the seal on the outside. No traps. No explosive tags. No contact poisons that I could detect without licking it.
I unfurled it.
My eyes scanned the dense, complex formula written in harsh, angular strokes. I read it once. Blinked. Read it again.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I exhaled, a helpless chuckle escaping before I could stop it.
Orochimaru preened atop his giant snake, looking smug enough to burst.
"One of the most creative and devastating techniques ever conceived," he purred, voice dripping with self-satisfaction. "Not something you'll stumble across by accident, I assure you. Armies learned to fear it. Entire countries adjusted their tactics because of it. It was sealed away in the Forbidden Scroll for very good reasons. Too dangerous for the unworthy, too complex for the simple-minded." He paused for effect, savoring the moment. "Of all the techniques in our village's history, it remains one of the most difficult to learn, let alone master. Only two people have ever succeeded. The one who created it, and…. the current Hokage, from which he derives his title."
He let the silence hang, then delivered the punchline.
"The Hiraishin no Jutsu."
I pursed my lips and went through the scroll again, rereading it carefully. He wasn't lying. This was, without question, the Flying Thunder God technique. This was Minato's signature move, the thing that had earned him the moniker "Yellow Flash" and cemented his legend. Or at least, the skeleton of it. The dimensional coordinates, the chakra molding ratios, the insane arithmetic required to fold space like origami without shredding your own atoms in the process.
My thoughts raced. This was... big. The Hiraishin's utility and flexibility were unmatched. If I could learn this—actually master it—my combat prowess would double. Maybe triple my combat effectiveness instantly. Teleportation wasn't just movement; it was defense, offense, and psychological warfare all wrapped in one impossible package. It was a close second to my obsession with Senjutsu. And here it was, literally in my hands.
And Orochimaru was the one holding the keys.
Which made it infinitely harder to tell him to go fuck himself.
Because there was always a catch for these things, and the bastard definitely wanted something. And the proof was right here in my hands. The technique in the scroll was incomplete. A down payment.
I furled the scroll and looked up, plastering on my best grin.
"I think you might need to check your prescription, Orochimaru," I said, injecting a healthy dose of condescension into my tone, because I was a damn sore loser. "Or maybe the senility is setting in faster than I thought. I understand—at your advanced age, it's normal to make mistakes. Bad memory, cognitive decline, the works. Happens to the best of us." I tapped the scroll against my palm. "This isn't a technique. It's incomplete jargon. A glorified rough draft with the ending torn out."
I extended my hand, wiggling the scroll tauntingly. "Tell you what. I'll accept your apology for dragging me here, provided you actually give me the rest of the token you actually meant to hand over. You know, the part that makes it work? Unless you forgot where you put it?"
Orochimaru's smile froze. It didn't vanish, but it grew rigid, the amusement leaching out of his eyes until only the cold, reptilian stare remained. He clearly didn't appreciate the age jokes. Understandable. When your entire life goal is immortality, being reminded of your expiration date is probably a sore spot.
I'll call that a tie, I thought smugly.
"Now, now, Eishin-kun," Orochimaru said softly, his voice dangerously even. "Don't be hasty. The Hiraishin is a technique of immense power. One does not simply... hand it over to just anyone. It would be irresponsible to leave such a weapon in the wrong hands without assurances. You must show that you are... worthy of the full legacy."
I was getting annoyed. No wonder this guy wanted to live forever; he spent half his current lifespan talking in circles. He curled and coiled around a point like a constrictor snake before squeezing out anything meaningful.
"Cut the bullshit," I said flatly. "It'll benefit everyone if you just get to the point."
Orochimaru looked at me for a long moment, then let out a short, sharp laugh. "Very well. Directness it is." He licked his lips, tongue darting out longer than should be anatomically possible.
"I am currently working on a... project," he began, voice silky. "A project that would benefit Konoha immensely. It has the potential to secure the village's safety for generations. Imagine, Eishin-kun—a deterrent so absolute that no nation would dare look at Konoha with hostile intent. No more wars. no more sacrifice."
He leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "With this... project... things would become much simpler for you. No war will begin because of your... recent actions. Peace through superior power."
I stared at him. Was he... was he trying to pitch me a nuclear bomb? I mused, though I didn't miss his not-so-subtle manipulative cue. You started this mess. I meant to say, I'm offering you a way out.
"And all I require to complete this magnificent work," Orochimaru finished, eyes locking onto mine with hungry intensity, "is a small contribution. Access to a certain field of study I believe you are uniquely positioned to assist with."
I hummed, tapping the scroll against my thigh. "And what 'magnificent project' is this exactly? Sounds like you're trying to sell me a timeshare in utopia."
Orochimaru's eyes lit up, not with warmth, but with the fervent, manic gleam of a scientist on the brink of a breakthrough. He uncrossed his arms, gesturing expansively with long, pale fingers.
"Imagine, Eishin-kun," he began, his voice taking on a hypnotic cadence. "Imagine a world where the limitations of the human chakra system are... obsolete. Where every shinobi, regardless of their born reserves, has access to the boundless energy of the earth itself."
He leaned forward, intent. "You know the feeling. I see it in you. The rush of power when nature flows through your veins. The clarity. The strength that makes even Kage seem fragile. Why should that be the province of the 'chosen few'? Why constrain such potential to genetic lottery or contracts with fickle animals?"
He paced atop the snake's head, caught in his own rhetoric. "My research... it bridges the gap. It democratizes power. If every Konoha shinobi could harness Senjutsu—safely, naturally—we wouldn't just be strong. We would be untouchable. The war you've ignited by killing the Mizukage? It would vanish before it began. No nation would dare march against a village of sages."
He stopped pacing and fixed me with that penetrating gaze, his smile turning sympathetic, almost paternal. "It would be a way to... correct the course, wouldn't it? A way to ensure that your actions don't lead to unnecessary bloodshed. A redemption, of sorts. And in helping me achieve this, you would prove yourself more than worthy of the Hiraishin. You would be the architect of a new era."
We stared at each other across the damp, glowing cave. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the soft hiss of the giant snakes shifting their coils.
I found it deeply unpleasant, infuriating, actually, that even knowing about the cursed seal from the show, even knowing Orochimaru's track record of lying, manipulation, and body-horror experiments, his words still felt the pull of his words. The logic was seductive. The vision was compelling. The promise of redemption wrapped in scientific progress and village security.
Power brings peace. Strength prevents war. It was the same song Danzo sang, just in a different key. And with Senju, I know it was possible. He was right, I know the feeling really well.
But…. not to brag, I'm a bit versed in manipulations as well. It won't fly on me, but he was food.
I guess that's why they called a snake, a snake. He could charm you right up until the moment he sank his fangs in.
But that aside... this wasn't what I'd expected his intentions. Yes, I knew Orochimaru was interested in Senjutsu but I'd assumed he was more focused on fixing his other problem. I'd thought he wanted my expertise in Fuinjutsu to help free himself, not...
Senjutsu for the masses. Of course, that was utter bulshit. He was just masking that with flowery and good-sounding words to be on high moral ground.
But that didn't matter; his goal was still Senjutsu.
I let the implications roll through my mind. If Orochimaru, one of the smartest, most dangerous, ethically bankrupt geniuses in this world, got his hands on Sage Arts…. The world wouldn't just be fucked. It would be catastrophically fucked. The power balance would shatter. Nations would scramble. Wars would ignite. And Orochimaru would sit at the center of it all, pulling strings and laughing that horrible laugh.
Alright…. maybe I was painting him like your generic run of the mill villains, but was I that wrong? He was a psycho, and the results would still be horrific if he got what he wanted.
Was Heraishin worth putting the world at risk? I wondered as I stared at the Sannin for a long moment, watching the expectant, hungry look in his eyes. The way he held himself was confident that his bait was irresistible.
I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze evenly.
Never trust a snake, they said, and they were—
"Alright," I said after a long, weighted moment. "I'll help you."
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