"So, what's your answer?"
Orochimaru smiled faintly, his lips curled with a sly charm that straddled the line between genuine and sinister. He looked at Shisui the way a serpent might gaze upon prey that willingly stepped into its jaws—curious, amused, and already victorious.
There was no need for threats or deception.
All Orochimaru had to do was lay out the facts. Shisui would choose for himself—and the path he'd take had already been decided from the start. Not forced by anyone else, but by his own values.
Submission through choice always runs deeper than submission through coercion.
Shisui wanted to protect both the village and his clan. And when forced to pick one, he hesitated. But now, presented with a path that might preserve both? Someone like him would commit even more fervently than most.
Danzō had once described Shisui with a single word: "Saint."
It was fitting.
Orochimaru had once despised such people—especially when they held great power. They had little regard for personal gain, and their selfless ideals made collaboration difficult. The grand visions they carried were often impractical, costly, and too idealistic to benefit from.
But Danzō had given him a new approach.
Idealists like Shisui would give everything—even their lives—for the greater good. If Orochimaru simply aligned his own ambitions with the interests of the village or the clan, he could achieve his goals with minimal sacrifice.
He inwardly laughed. Danzō may be a parasite and a black-hearted merchant, but damn if his methods weren't effective.
Just a few phrases like "for the village" or "for your clan"—and a powerful shinobi like Shisui would give everything without hesitation.
Terrifying, really.
Had he not taken this approach, Orochimaru might've long since abandoned Konoha to pursue his ambitions elsewhere. Who knew how much time would have been wasted?
The more he considered it, the more he despised Danzō—not for being wrong, but for being another moth drawn to the flame of power. And there was no room for a second one in Konoha.
Beneath Orochimaru's manipulative, yet outwardly sincere words, the last traces of hesitation in Shisui began to fade.
Clearing his mind of emotion, Shisui analyzed the situation calmly and said,
"Lord Orochimaru, I can't defeat the Eight-Tails. Even though it's only the Two-Tails Jinchūriki, I wouldn't be able to hold her off for long—not in a real fight."
There was no self-pity in his words—just an honest assessment. He had faced the power of a tailed beast firsthand and knew his limits. At only fourteen, his body wasn't fully developed, and his Mangekyō Sharingan, with its heavy toll on his stamina, was specialized in illusion rather than raw power.
After a moment of thought, Shisui continued,
"If I can capture her, maybe my eye technique could help."
He then explained the ability of his Mangekyō Sharingan—Kotoamatsukami, a genjutsu so powerful it could permanently alter someone's thoughts and will without them realizing it.
As he spoke, he closely watched Orochimaru's expression. But the man's smile never changed. He remained calm, seemingly unfazed by the revelation.
That steadiness comforted Shisui. He took it as trust, a rare and meaningful gesture from someone like Orochimaru.
"Capturing the Two-Tails alive will be too difficult," Orochimaru said, dismissing the idea without hesitation.
What a joke. Using that technique comes with a cooldown of over ten years. That kind of reckless overdraft was never part of his plan.
Worried that Shisui might act on his own, Orochimaru added a warning:
"Your eye technique is far too costly. Don't use it carelessly in battle—especially not against a Jinchuriki. Their chakra is infused with that of a tailed beast. The chances of your ability failing are too high."
That had been Shisui's concern from the beginning as well, which is why he had suggested capturing the Jinchuriki alive.
But that option had been dismissed. And given his current power, he couldn't take down the Eight-Tails Jinchuriki anyway. Frustrated, Shisui turned to Orochimaru, silently hoping he had a solution.
Shisui didn't want to see his clan suffer heavy casualties unless absolutely necessary.
"I've already considered the power gap between you and the Two-Tails Jinchuriki," Orochimaru said, pulling a vial of light green fluid from a scroll and handing it to Shisui.
It was a Dahe-brand genetic drug. Though called a "gene" drug, it was more accurately a cell-modifying serum—capable of fusing with host cells to replicate and enhance physical attributes.
It was effective—but expensive. Including failed batches, the average cost of one vial was ten million ryo. For context, an elite jonin from Konoha only fetched slightly over thirty million on the black market.
This single tube was worth a third of a jonin's life.
But Orochimaru had never hesitated to spend on those who were truly valuable.
"Drink it. It'll strengthen your body," he said with a smile.
Without hesitation, Shisui pulled the stopper and downed the contents. He didn't believe Orochimaru had any reason to harm him.
Moments later, his body hit the floor. He convulsed violently, clutching at his throat and suppressing his cries of pain.
"Tsk, tsk... that reaction—looks like he got a better boost than I did," Orochimaru muttered with amusement.
Despite his usual indifference, even he couldn't help but be impressed. The difference between bloodlines really did show—even when taking the same drug.
Pushing aside stray thoughts, Orochimaru refocused on planning the upcoming battle. Everything was falling into place. Now all that remained was the right moment to strike.
---
The next day, at dusk…
The fortress that had served as Konoha's frontline barrier for over a day had been abandoned by Orochimaru's forces. Now, a new reinforcement unit had moved in to take over.
Koharu and Homura Mitokado, the two Hokage advisors, stood side by side, watching the direction where Orochimaru and his squad had disappeared.
"Orochimaru is far too reckless," Koharu muttered, frowning.
She recalled how he'd tossed the fort over to them like it was useless trash. Regardless of personal feelings, she couldn't agree with his methods.
The stronghold had been secured—it would've been far safer to gradually drive the enemy out of the Land of Fire. A head-on assault, successful or not, risked heavy casualties. If it failed, the entire battlefront could collapse. All their efforts in securing the stronghold could go to waste.
It was, by all logic, a terrible idea.
But Orochimaru had ignored her concerns completely. Even the captain of his squad seemed bewitched—obediently following every order as if under a spell.
Homura didn't respond at first. He silently watched the sun sink below the treeline and lit a cigarette.
"You support Orochimaru's approach?" Koharu asked, irritated.
"No," Homura said simply, exhaling smoke. "I never said that."
"Then—?"
"But," he continued, "could we have reestablished a fortified border position overnight with our methods?"
Koharu had no answer.
"Orochimaru did it. That alone proves he's more capable than us—for now."
Homura flicked away the cigarette. "Of course, if he fails, I won't hesitate to strip him of command. I'll back Hiruzen in doing it."
He turned his gaze toward the darkening forest.
There was something he hadn't said aloud:
Right now, Konoha couldn't afford a drawn-out war.
The Root division was holding off Iwagakure. Jiraiya guarded the Wind Country's border. But they'd abandoned the Water Country's line of defense.
Even if Kirigakure was in disarray, who could say how long that would last?
Konoha was running out of time. And options.
________
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