Chapter 186 – The Fourth Hokage
Time slipped by quietly. Only three days remained until the election for the Fourth Hokage, and the atmosphere within Konoha was growing increasingly fervent.
In the courtyard at the village's center, snow began to drift down again. Orochimaru, dressed in a plain white kimono, sat on the wooden veranda, watching the flakes fall in silence.
A crystalline snowflake landed in his palm, only to melt instantly into a droplet—gone before it could even be admired.
Though he wore little against the cold, chakra coursing through his body kept him warm.
Three days until the election. To say he had no thoughts about it would be a lie.
Every shinobi of the village, in one way or another, harbored a certain attachment to the position of Hokage. Only those who had been deeply scarred, like Tsunade, or those who simply never cared, like Jiraiya, could truly claim indifference.
Speaking of Jiraiya—he had already left the village a few days before the election. His excuse, as always, was "gathering material." Rumor had it he'd been struck with new inspiration and intended to write another book.
Orochimaru sneered at such behavior, dismissing it as nothing more than an escape from reality. Still, with Jiraiya absent, that meant one less rival for the Hokage's seat.
He had been observing the mood of the village, weighing his chances. This time, he understood the reality of his situation.
Somehow, secrets best left hidden had been leaked. His reputation had soured, and his teacher—the Third Hokage—was hesitating, even leaning toward a younger successor.
Orochimaru wasn't overly concerned. He had his suspicions about who had orchestrated the smear campaign, but did it really matter? Not particularly. Their cooperation had been productive: materials, equipment, protection—all provided. With such support, Orochimaru could devote himself entirely to his research.
And his pride would never allow him to deny what he had done. Why should he explain himself? Everyone knew the truth: the more one explained, the less believable it became. Silence was the wiser path.
As for his teacher's eventual decision, Orochimaru could already guess. Namikaze Minato—gentle, moderate, and outwardly aligned with Hiruzen's pacifist leanings. Moreover, Minato was adored by the younger generation. His election would inspire fresh hope and vitality throughout the village.
And then, of course, there was Orochimaru's own temperament—distant from his master in recent years, with tendencies that unnerved those around him. That alone made Hiruzen hesitate.
"Now it all depends on you, sensei," Orochimaru murmured, gazing at the cloud-darkened sky. The light of dusk seeped through, though evening was already near.
Danzo had sought him out several times. Their conversations circled, inevitably, around the upcoming election. What struck Orochimaru as curious was Danzo's urgency.
He had been explicit: he would support Orochimaru's candidacy—but in return, he demanded full control of the Anbu once Orochimaru became Hokage.
Orochimaru had offered no clear response. The Anbu mattered little to him; even the Hokage's seat was, at best, a passing ambition. Should he fail to claim it, so be it.
What intrigued him was the subtle shift in Danzo's demeanor. After some trip abroad, Danzo had returned almost… desperate. Though still cloaked in arrogance, the change was undeniable.
For the first time, he had revealed his true hunger. The Anbu were his goal, and this "urgent support" meant he must have suffered some significant setback. Orochimaru chuckled inwardly.
To stir such a massive wave of public scrutiny against him—that required influence far beyond ordinary means.
And Danzo, who would betray anyone to grasp the Hokage's title, was hardly the sort to shield him if his forbidden research was exposed. In fact, he'd likely be the first to throw a stone. Orochimaru knew this too well.
But still, he did not reject the arrangement. Politics bored him. What exhilarated him was dissecting the essence of ninjutsu, unraveling its principles, and from them deriving entirely new techniques.
Yet recently, his research had stalled. No matter how many "test subjects" he acquired, progress remained elusive. He knew the risks—Konoha was already on edge, and to conduct such experiments recklessly was dangerous. But he couldn't stop. He never would.
As snowflakes drifted down, Orochimaru's lips curved into a serpentine smile. He rose and slipped into his study. Nightfall meant research. It always had.
For him, the dream of becoming Hokage was little more than an afterthought. If he failed, so what? The dream would simply shatter. He had long ceased to see himself as confined to the label of "Leaf shinobi."
"The weather grows colder," Uchiha Kei muttered to himself as he walked alone down Konoha's streets, snowflakes swirling around him.
This chaotic year was finally drawing to a close. And soon, a new Hokage would be born—a moment that could very well decide the feasibility of his own plans.
Though chakra shielded him from the chill, Kei pulled his cloak tighter. Born in the south in his past life, he had never liked the snow.
He exhaled slowly, thoughts tangled. The choice of the Fourth Hokage stirred an unease he could not fully shake, no matter how much he had prepared. Even knowing the "original history" crowned Minato, he couldn't act as though nothing were at stake.
Perhaps it was Fugaku's influence. Still, Kei forced himself to stay confident.
"Three days more. Then everything will be decided."
The wait was agonizing, but he had contingency plans. Even if Minato failed to become Hokage, he would not be left powerless. Fugaku was already building alliances—courting smaller clans, winning over civilian shinobi. With persistence and internal reform, the Uchiha still had a chance.
Of course, reform would come at a bloody price. Kei knew this well. If it came to that, loyalty would matter more than potential—even Mangekyō would not spare a traitor.
He was not afraid to stain his hands black, if that was the cost of survival.
Still, that was a last resort. His true plan was simple: wait patiently for the new Hokage to take office, reshape the Uchiha clan from within, and prepare for what he knew was coming.
Because when the masked man struck, when Obito used Kushina's childbirth to unleash the Nine-Tails upon the village—this time, history would not repeat itself.
Back then, Fugaku had been too indecisive. He wanted to help Minato but allowed himself to be restrained by Danzo.
That mistake would not be made again.
Uchiha Fugaku probably never imagined that in that critical moment, the elderly Third Hokage chose not to step forward. Instead, it was the newly appointed Fourth Hokage who laid down his life.
What Fugaku could not have foreseen was that his own compromises and concessions didn't bring peace at all—instead, they ignited the powder keg of distrust already buried between both sides.
"I wonder… if Danzō tries to pull the same trick again, what choice will you make then, Uchiha Fugaku?"
Of course, by that time, whether Danzō will still be around is another matter entirely.
But the Fourth Hokage issue wasn't the only storm looming. There was also the matter of Uchiha Shuu.
Although Fugaku's supply of drugs had already run out, the combined efforts of Uchiha Kei and Fugaku, along with the clever use of certain "tools," had pushed Shuu, consumed by despair and rage, to his absolute breaking point.
And finally—when he learned the truth of Kei and Fugaku's intentions, and the fate of his younger brother, whose consciousness had been erased until he was little more than a corpse—Shuu's emotions erupted, awakening his Mangekyō Sharingan at last.
But it was already too late. Uchiha Kei and Fugaku, having learned from past experience, were prepared. Their countermeasures against Shuu were harsher, more thorough.
By the time Kei subdued him, Shuu was already broken—crippled both physically and mentally. That very despair was what drove him to his awakening.
Now, Shuu too has had his consciousness erased—this time by Fugaku's own hands. It was almost as if Fugaku was carving this decision into his soul, even unleashing his Mangekyō's power to do it.
After dealing with Shuu, Kei made no move to transplant or fuse the eyes. He had no intention of rushing things. He still wanted to observe Shuu's body and study the changes that followed.
And besides, Kei was on guard against Fugaku now more than ever. A pair of Mangekyō capable of becoming Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan? Kei would be a fool to think Fugaku harbored no other ambitions.
Their cooperation was built largely on necessity—the survival and reform of their clan. But there was another unspoken factor binding them together: the Mangekyō itself. If that balance ever broke…
"Looks like life won't be easy anytime soon. Still, without working with him, things wouldn't have gone nearly as smoothly for me either."
Kei sighed. He was cautious, yes, but not regretful. Without the cover Fugaku provided, he would never have been able to unravel so many truths so comfortably.
The emergence of a potential Eternal Mangekyō might widen the rift between them, but Kei had already reaped tangible benefits.
Still—gratitude is gratitude, and caution is caution. He could not allow the delicate balance of trust between them to tip even slightly out of place.