The sun had slipped past scattered clouds, casting a slanting glow westward as dusk enveloped Konoha.
Uchiha Tatsumi walked home alone, rubbing his aching shoulders with a tired grimace.
He'd just accompanied Mizumon to apologize to Sensei Nishimura for trashing the training ground. As part of their punishment, Nishimura had hit them with a disorienting genjutsu—a "baptism" that left Tatsumi's head foggy, like it was packed with cotton.
Silently, he cursed Nishimura, wishing the chunin a lifetime of solitude and the loss of his "precious right hand."
Tatsumi quickened his pace, his stomach rumbling with hunger.
Suddenly, he halted.
Years of training had sharpened his senses, and a faint chill of danger prickled his skin.
"Come out," he called, voice firm.
No response. The surrounding darkness was eerily still, the usual hum of cicadas silenced.
Without warning, two gleaming kunai shot from the shadows, aimed at Tatsumi's chest.
"Tch," Tatsumi muttered, exasperated.
In his past life, people greeted each other with a warm "Have you eaten?" Here, ninjas welcomed you with kunai to the face.
Despite the wry thought, Tatsumi's hands moved swiftly. He flicked two shuriken from his pouch, intercepting the kunai midair and knocking them off course.
The motion was seamless, almost effortless, as if he'd barely tried.
Not pausing, Tatsumi hurled another volley of shuriken toward the source of the attack.
As the shuriken closed in, a wooden log appeared in their path, absorbing the hits with a dull thunk.
Substitution Jutsu. Tatsumi's Sharingan flickered to life, scanning for the enemy's next move.
His opponent lurked in the shadows like a coiled snake, waiting to strike. Tatsumi tensed, senses on high alert.
Suddenly, pale hands erupted from the ground, clawing at his ankles.
Tatsumi's fingers blurred through a one-handed seal. Before the hands could grab him, he vanished, leaving a log in his place. The hands crushed it with terrifying force.
If they won't show themselves, I'll play their game, Tatsumi thought, slipping behind a tree to hide.
The path grew deathly quiet, tension thickening the air.
His opponent was concealed, but so was he. Still, Tatsumi knew he was at a disadvantage. They'd ambushed him, likely knowing his route. He hadn't even seen their face—zero intel.
As seconds ticked by, a shadow materialized behind him, emerging silently via an advanced Earth Release technique.
The figure studied Tatsumi, confirming he wasn't a shadow clone. His keen sensory skills detected Tatsumi's distinct chakra signature.
He shook his head. A caged bird, no matter how gifted, will never soar like an eagle.
To him, combat was the truest form of communication, but Tatsumi's lack of vigilance was disappointing.
Drawing a kunai, the man aimed for Tatsumi's back.
But as the blade struck, Tatsumi's head twisted 180 degrees, a chilling smile spreading across his face.
Genjutsu.
The man disrupted his chakra flow to break the illusion, and Tatsumi's figure vanished.
A kunai tore through the air like a cannonball, shrieking as it flew. It struck the man's forehead, passing clean through and embedding into a tree trunk beyond.
A perfect headshot.
Tatsumi smirked, pleased with his "98K" precision. A bit more practice, and I'll rival an Italian cannon.
But his triumph faltered as the "headshot" figure dissolved into mud—a clone.
A cold hand clamped onto Tatsumi's shoulder.
His kunai clattered to the ground, fear surging through him.
"Tatsumi, you've grown stronger," a hoarse voice rasped.
Tatsumi spun around to face his attacker—Orochimaru.
Orochimaru stood before him, clad in a kimono with a jonin vest layered over it. The odd combination suited the Sannin's eccentric style, earning him the moniker "Konoha's Kimono Prince."
Tatsumi forced a grin. "Orochimaru-sama, didn't expect you here. Aren't you swamped with missions?"
It had been three years since Tatsumi last saw Orochimaru, during a training session where the Sannin offered guidance. Though Orochimaru had invited Tatsumi to seek him out, Tatsumi never did.
Now, nearing twenty, Orochimaru was sharper, more feminine, his power an unfathomable abyss. To Tatsumi, a mere Academy student, he was a walking enigma.
Why was a legendary Sannin seeking him?
Tatsumi recalled Rope Tree's gossip about Orochimaru's return amid tensions with the Land of Rain.
"Three years, and you've grown formidable," Orochimaru said, his husky voice carrying an almost seductive edge.
Tatsumi shook off a stray thought—I'm definitely straight—and replied, "Just trying to keep up, Orochimaru-sama."
"Come, I returned to Konoha today," Orochimaru said, patting Tatsumi's shoulder. "Walk with me. Let's talk."
Refusing a Sannin wasn't wise, and Tatsumi couldn't resist the bragging rights—Chatting with Orochimaru, one of the Three Ninjas? That's legendary.
Still, a shiver ran through him. Back in Konoha and you seek out a nine-year-old? This isn't about… little goldfish, is it?
Orochimaru's reputation for "recruiting" young talent was unsettling. Tatsumi pushed the thought aside and followed him to a tavern.
Relief hit when they entered—not a creepy lair, just a place to eat. His stomach growled in approval.
The tavern was dimly lit, nearly empty, with worn tables and flickering lanterns lending an aged charm.
Orochimaru ordered a pot of sake and side dishes, then glanced at Tatsumi. "Drink?"
"Orochimaru-sama, I'm a minor," Tatsumi said, scratching his cheek.
Orochimaru nodded, pouring himself a cup.
"Tsunade, Jiraiya, and I used to drink here as kids," Orochimaru said, nostalgia softening his tone. "Tsunade found this place. Only shop in Konoha that'd serve minors back then."
Tatsumi blinked. Still open? This place must have serious backing.
Konoha's shops were full of hidden depths.
"I learned this afternoon the old owner passed recently," Orochimaru continued, sipping his sake. "His son runs it now."
Tatsumi nodded, waiting for more.
"Tangible things fade—people, places…" Orochimaru's golden eyes fixed on Tatsumi. "What do you think?"
Tatsumi nodded thoughtfully. "No one's immortal, right?"
"Indeed. Nothing lasts forever. Even the Sage of the Six Paths vanished into history," Orochimaru said with a sigh.
"I'm only twenty, yet I feel it deeply—aging, dying, leaving no trace. Life is… empty," Orochimaru mused.
"Tatsumi, what's your view on life?" he asked suddenly, his snake-like eyes narrowing.
Tatsumi hesitated. "Something wrong, Orochimaru-sama?"
In his mind, a twenty-year-old Sannin asking a nine-year-old such a question was bizarre.
Orochimaru chuckled, a rare, magnetic sound. "Perhaps I was too forward. The first time I saw you, I sensed something… different."
"I've watched you, Tatsumi. You seem out of place in this world. A child, yet with a mature soul. It's intriguing."
Tatsumi's guard went up. Orochimaru's perception was unnervingly sharp.
"I feel you're like a gust of wind, destined to stir the world," Orochimaru continued. "Your perspective interests me."
He paused, then added, "Since my parents died, leaving me an orphan, I've been ready for death. Yet on the battlefield, I feel… small. It's different from ninja missions."
"Death is everywhere. Corpses pile up—enemies, allies, friends. And for what? Just war's bitter lessons."
Orochimaru poured another cup. "Life is… tedious."
"We're all ordinary, chasing happiness, but not all find it," Tatsumi said, nodding.
Orochimaru's eyes grew distant, tinged with sadness, as if recalling lost things. He echoed Tatsumi's words softly.
After a quiet moment, Tatsumi picked up a side dish with chopsticks. "Is war coming?"
Orochimaru nodded. "It's already brewing. The Land of Rain and Land of Grass are clashing fiercely. The Lands of Wind and Earth are massing troops at their borders. If it escalates, Konoha will be at a disadvantage."
"Then why return now?" Tatsumi asked, though he'd guessed the answer.
Orochimaru smiled, picking up a peanut. "The Third Hokage summoned us. Our mission orders are set."
"We're to lead your class," Orochimaru said hoarsely.
"Lead us? We're only fifth-years, not graduates," Tatsumi said, puzzled.
"Exactly. You're not graduates, so we'll train you through missions now," Orochimaru explained. "Once war breaks out, there's no time to coddle you. You'll be sent to the battlefield."
"You're Konoha's future. The Third went to great lengths to recall us, to let you taste conflict before war begins. Better you see blood now than in the chaos of battle. It might save a few lives."
Tatsumi nodded, understanding the grim logic.
"So, Orochimaru-sama, you're my team leader?" Tatsumi asked.
"Correct. Tsunade was assigned, but the Uchiha clan head requested me instead," Orochimaru said pointedly.
Tatsumi stayed silent. The Uchiha clan… always meddling.
"What about Tsunade-sensei?"
"She stormed into the Hokage's office, smashed his door, extorted two thousand ryo, and headed to the casino," Orochimaru said dryly.
"…"
"So, in Tsunade-sensei's eyes, I'm worth two thousand ryo," Tatsumi said, ruffling his hair with a wry smile.
The tavern owner approached, setting down a roast chicken.
"Sorry, Orochimaru-sama, this is too much. You're treating me better than Tsunade-sensei," Tatsumi said, feigning embarrassment as he reached for the chicken.
Orochimaru stopped him. "This isn't for you. It's for a… distinguished guest."
"Guest?" Tatsumi asked, confused.
Orochimaru didn't answer. He bit his thumb and performed hand signs. "Summoning Jutsu!"
Blood dripped onto the ground, and with a puff of smoke, a white snake appeared, just over a meter long, with two small purple horns on its head.
Orochimaru tossed the chicken to the snake. Its mouth split wide, swallowing the entire bird in one gulp.
Tatsumi stared, half-annoyed. Not even worried about choking?
The snake, satisfied, glanced at Orochimaru, then at Tatsumi with a dismissive look, as if he were misplaced trash.
"…"
"This the kid? He's tiny," the snake hissed, licking its lips as it eyed Tatsumi.
"He'll need this scroll eventually," Orochimaru said, shaking his head. "Hand it over."
The snake said nothing, spitting out a sealed scroll from its mouth.
"This is a summoning contract," Orochimaru said, unrolling it to reveal a blank space. "Write your name here in blood."
"You know the seals for the Summoning Jutsu, I presume, from Jiraiya's foolish apprentice."
"Starting tomorrow, you'll join me on missions. This contract is my gift as your teacher."
Tatsumi signed the scroll in blood. The snake swallowed it again, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
Orochimaru, too, dissolved into smoke—a shadow clone.
Another clone? Tatsumi touched the corner of his eye, a wry smile forming.
Then his smile froze.
A horrible realization hit him.
Orochimaru had left… without paying the bill.
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