Chapter 21: Desperate Orochimaru
The conference hall of the Akatsuki was cloaked in shadows. A single lantern burned weakly, its light flickering across the table where Nagato sat in his wheelchair, Konan gently at his side. One by one, the members had gathered—Kakuzu with his cold, calculating eyes; Sasori, silent as always, his puppet body betraying nothing; Orochimaru, his golden snake-like eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, half-interested and half-bored.
And at the far end of the table, Black Zetsu spread out a diagram, parchment creased with concentric rings that looked eerily like the growth of a tree—or the spread of a plague.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Nagato's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"You've all heard the rumors. Konoha has fallen. Sarutobi Hiruzen is dead. This—" he gestured to the map, "—is the future of our world."
For a moment, the words seemed too absurd to register. Orochimaru chuckled softly, the sound slithering across the table.
"Konoha destroyed? By a single man? Preposterous. Sarutobi-sensei may have been old, but he was not so weak as to fall in such a way. What kind of monster do you expect us to believe in?"
But even as he spoke, unease coiled in his gut. He had already investigated the whispers that reached his ears. Too many reports aligned. Too many terrified witnesses spoke of a darkness that consumed everything. Konoha was not merely defeated—it had been devoured.
Black Zetsu's voice was low, serious, and completely devoid of humor.
"It's no rumor. You know the name by now—Uchiha Raizen. That 'monster' isn't a fable. He exists. And his domain of death… continues to expand."
He tapped the map. Each ring represented a wider radius of the spreading field—an ever-growing zone of silence, cold, and chakra-draining void.
"Based on calculations, within a year this planet will be swallowed whole. In truth, it won't even take that long. Once forty or fifty percent of the world falls under his dominion, the climate itself will collapse. Crops will fail. Beasts will perish. The oceans will freeze. The ninja world will choke and die."
The words settled over them like a funeral shroud.
Orochimaru's smirk had long since vanished. He stood slowly, the hem of his robe brushing the stone floor as he moved closer to the map. His golden eyes traced the rings, each wider than the last. He imagined the cold creeping into his laboratories, into his hidden chambers, swallowing the shelves of forbidden scrolls he had not yet deciphered. He imagined centuries of ambition dissolving into frost.
His jaw tightened.
"This kind of growth… it cannot be limitless," Orochimaru said finally, his voice low but edged with a desperate conviction. "Everything has a weakness. Even the most divine-seeming powers have a flaw. Uchiha Raizen is still human. He bleeds. He can be killed."
Black Zetsu's response was merciless.
"Do you dare to gamble your existence on that assumption? Even if he has a limit, as soon as his field covers a third of the planet, life will no longer be sustainable. He does not even need to expand forever. One-fifth of the world suffices to make survival impossible."
Orochimaru fell silent. He hated Zetsu's logic precisely because it was undeniable.
A ripple of unease spread across the table. Kakuzu's knotted brows furrowed. His voice, usually as dry as coin ledgers, trembled with uncharacteristic dread.
"So that's it? Because Shimura Danzo couldn't leave his paranoia behind, because he had to provoke the Uchiha clan, we are now to be buried alongside him? Damn him… damn that greedy old fool! He dies, and yet we—who had no part in his idiocy—must pay the price!"
He clutched his chest as though the weight of lost treasure crushed him. "All that money… unearned, wasted… all that wealth lost to the void…" His voice cracked, raw with despair.
The room returned to silence, heavy with the realization of their shared doom.
Orochimaru stared at the map as though willing it to change. His mind raced. He had cheated death countless times, shedding bodies like a serpent sheds skin. He had crafted jutsu to reach beyond mortality itself. He had once believed himself untouchable, destined to live forever.
But now?
What good were his techniques if the entire planet was swallowed in ice and silence? What use was immortality in a frozen tomb where no chakra flowed, no life stirred, no prey remained to be devoured?
His hand clenched against the table.
"No," he whispered, more to himself than to the others. "It cannot end like this. I have only just begun to refine the reincarnation technique. I have yet to perfect the true resurrection jutsu. I have not unraveled all ninjutsu in existence. I have not… tasted everything this world has to offer."
He felt an ache—a despair he rarely allowed himself. For the first time in decades, true fear slithered into his veins.
"Damn you, Shimura Danzo," Orochimaru hissed, his voice venomous. "Your folly has dragged us all into ruin."
Nagato sat quietly, his Rinnegan dimmed but still formidable, staring at Orochimaru with eyes that carried both agreement and accusation. He knew despair too well. He had faced Raizen himself and survived only by the narrowest margin. His silence was confirmation enough.
Obito said nothing. He kept his mask tilted low, hiding the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. He would not—could not—admit that the Night of the Uchiha Massacre had been his hand as much as Itachi's. If the others knew, their fury would tear him apart before Raizen ever had the chance. For now, silence was survival.
Orochimaru's nails tapped against the table.
"There must be a way. Either Raizen's power has a ceiling… or he can be slain. Otherwise…" His voice trailed, and for the first time, it sounded hollow.
Black Zetsu watched him carefully, eyes glinting with ancient malice.
"You pray for a limit, Orochimaru? Then you gamble your eternity on hope alone. As for killing him…" Zetsu's smile was cold, cruel. "Tell me—how much chakra will you have left after crossing his field of death to reach him? How much of yourself will remain to strike?"
The words struck like a venom-tipped dagger.
Orochimaru's tongue flickered across his lips, his expression twisting. He had faced gods before, but this—this was different. Raizen was not simply strong. He was a calamity, a living disaster. To fight him meant being devoured before the battle even began.
For a moment, the great serpent of Konoha felt caged, trapped in a world that was shrinking into frost.
The conference ended with no solution. Just dread, tension, and the heavy silence of inevitability.
As Orochimaru withdrew to his own chamber, the despair lingered. He closed the door, leaned back against it, and for once, his laughter did not come. His ambition, his hunger, his desire to live eternally—all of it trembled in the shadow of Uchiha Raizen's ever-growing domain.
For the first time, the man who sought to live forever understood what it meant to be truly desperate.
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