When Orochimaru fought the Third Hokage, a portion of his soul had been sealed away by the Dead Demon Consuming Seal.
The Shinigami Mask served as a medium — a link between the user and the Shinigami itself. Through it, Naruto could once again make contact with Orochimaru and forge another contract.
Naruto stepped into the Hall of Masks, a vast chamber where countless masks lined the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of age and secrecy. Outside the hall, the Uzumaki Clan crest was carved into the stone archway — a familiar emblem that stirred something deep within him.
He silently gathered every mask, turned toward the exit, and paused at the doorway. Casting one last glance at the hall, Naruto vanished in a blur, leaving behind only the faint echo of his departure.
Moments later, a figure emerged from the shadows — a woman with flowing crimson hair, appearing to be in her twenties. Her face was soft and oval, her eyes clear and bright. A faint black marking ran down her pale neck, its purpose mysterious.
Seeing the empty hall, the woman whispered to herself,
"Another powerful shinobi has entered the Land of Whirlpools... Could he be connected to that mysterious organization?"
Her brows furrowed in thought. If Naruto had still been there, he would have recognized her immediately — she was Uzumaki Chanel, one of the few remaining survivors of the Uzumaki Clan.
The world believed the Uzumaki to be long extinct, yet a handful had endured — the final seeds of their once-great bloodline preserved in secret. Hidden deep within the ruins of the Land of Whirlpools, they had developed unique Sealing Techniques to conceal their existence. The technique didn't weaken their chakra, but it made their presence nearly undetectable. The black stripe on Chanel's neck was a mark of this very seal.
Chanel gazed at the plundered hall, but made no move to retrieve the masks. She knew little of their true purpose; even much of the Uzumaki inheritance had been lost over time. The surviving elders had taught her only one thing — to remain hidden and avoid the outside world.
After ensuring no other intruders were present, Chanel turned and disappeared into the mists of the ruins.
Meanwhile, news from Konoha rippled across the shinobi world. Even Sasori of the Red Sand, now covertly operating within the Umbrella Organization, had heard of it.
He mused coldly, This world truly is dangerous... only eternity holds meaning.
But Sasori had no time for distractions. He was focused intently on the blueprints and a thick book his new mentor had given him.
After several rounds of infiltration and planning, Sasori had successfully entered the Umbrella Organization — not as a spy from Akatsuki, but as a researcher.
Like Jiraiya once did, he concealed his abilities and appeared in his real, youthful form — a handsome man with calm eyes and deft hands. He posed as an apprentice under an Umbrella engineer specializing in aircraft design, learning the principles of advanced machinery.
Although his mentor wasn't a high-ranking member and possessed no combat ability, the field of mechanical study fascinated Sasori. His infiltration had been encouraged by Black Zetsu, who hinted at the organization's potential.
The Umbrella was a formidable power — highly structured, with strict screening procedures. Sasori chose to infiltrate through logistics, where oversight was weaker. As the Umbrella expanded, more ordinary recruits joined, and even Shisui could only ensure the loyalty of its core members.
Even if outer members were compromised, the foundation of the organization would remain unshaken.
Now, surrounded by schematics and machinery, Sasori pored over the manuals. The Umbrella's books contained technologies unseen in the shinobi world — engines, combustion principles, and the mechanics of flight.
Only now did Sasori realize why his past attempts to create flying puppets had failed. He had grasped the theories but lacked a crucial element — fuel. The specialized oil used to power engines was heavily restricted.
Moreover, aircraft construction required deep understanding of aerodynamics, power systems, and structural balance — as intricate as mastering the Puppet Technique itself.
Fortunately, Sasori's foundation in puppet engineering gave him a natural advantage. The more he studied, the more he understood: Puppet Technique and science shared the same path.
The future of puppetry lies in science, he thought. By combining chakra with mechanical power and sealing techniques... a new generation of living puppets could be born.
Excitement flickered in his usually cold heart. Sitting at his desk, Sasori began to sketch designs at lightning speed — a new puppet, one that could truly surpass the limits of human craftsmanship.
Far away, in the Land of Rice Fields, deep within the Hidden Sound Village, Orochimaru sat pale and weakened. His face was drawn, his expression tight with frustration. Even his patience — once endless — was fraying.
The loss of a fragment of his soul still haunted him.
And yet, the serpent never stopped scheming.
A pale figure sat slumped in the dim light, his breathing shallow, his once-proud hands now useless at his sides. Before him stood another man — golden hair catching the faint glow, a missing forehead protector gleaming faintly against his temple, and a light robe that carried a sacred, almost serene presence.
Their contrasting appearances told two different stories: one of decay, the other of quiet dominance.
"Orochimaru," Naruto said calmly, his tone measured yet edged with subtle authority.
"You don't look well."
Orochimaru's lips twisted into a bitter smile. His once-elegant hands were now pale and lifeless, fingers curled slightly as though taunting him with their stillness. The pain from the soul damage was bearable — but the agony of inability was not.
Without his hands, he could not experiment, could not create, could not seek truth. For someone like Orochimaru, that was torment worse than death.
"Naruto-kun…" Orochimaru rasped, forcing a hoarse chuckle.
"I must apologize for letting you see me in such a miserable state."
He spoke self-deprecatingly, though the darkness in his eyes never wavered.
Standing beside him was Kimimaro, pale and solemn, his eyes filled with concern. Kabuto stood just behind, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger — ever watchful, ever analytical.
Orochimaru's gaze flickered with curiosity.
"Naruto-kun, if I remember correctly… Tsunade is part of your organization, isn't she?"
Naruto gave a small nod. He already knew where this was going.
"Orochimaru," Naruto replied evenly, "I'm afraid Tsunade can't help you. What you're suffering from isn't a physical wound — it's the Reaper Death Seal's curse. The damage is spiritual, not medical. Even Tsunade's knowledge of the soul can't match yours."
For a brief moment, disappointment flashed across Orochimaru's face — only to be replaced by the faintest glimmer of intrigue when Naruto continued:
"However…" Naruto's voice deepened slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"I do have a way to help you."
He unrolled a scroll and placed it before Orochimaru.
"This," Naruto said, "is the Sage Mode training method I promised you long ago."
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed, gleaming faintly like a serpent's in the dark.
"From now on," Naruto continued, his tone sharpening, "you are forbidden from targeting Sasuke. You know the consequences if you do."
Then he reached into his cloak and revealed an eerie white mask — the Shinigami Mask.
Orochimaru's pupils contracted.
"This is…?"
"This," Naruto explained, "is the Shinigami Mask, a relic capable of connecting with the Shinigami itself. The Reaper Death Seal is a forbidden technique of the Uzumaki Clan — my clan."
He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.
"Restoring your original soul entirely would be almost impossible. So instead… why not take back your hands from the Shinigami?"
Naruto's calm, almost casual suggestion carried an unmistakable sense of command.
Orochimaru's lips curled into a thin, serpentine smile. The boldness of Naruto's proposal — to steal from the Shinigami — sent a shiver down even his spine.
"To think you'd dare such a thing…" Orochimaru murmured.
"Truly worthy of the title Naruto-kun."
Then, eyes narrowing with suspicion, he asked quietly, "What do you want in return?"
Naruto looked him straight in the eye and replied, each word deliberate and unyielding:
"Hashirama Cells."
...
TN:
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