They say time flies, and they aren't wrong. It flies so fast it feels like a blur. One moment you're in the thick of a war, and the next, three whole years have slipped through your fingers.
That's how long it's been since the conflict in the Land of Waves, since the entire shinobi world rose up in a massive, disastrous tantrum.
You would think that after a humiliation of that scale, the great villages would be nursing a bitter grudge, right? Well, think again.
Not only have they refrained from any move against the Land of Waves, but they've been paying their annual tributes. Promptly.
Every. Single. Year.
Are they scared? Are the Four Great Villages truly frightened of a place as small as ours? The idea is almost laughable. From the citizens of the Waves to the nobility in the clouds, everyone understands this for what it is: the calm before the storm. The final act is inevitable. It's not a matter of if, but when.
—
Deep within Konoha's Root laboratories, where the air smelled of antiseptic and unspeakable choices, Orochimaru was admiring his work.
He stood before a massive, bubbling tank, watching something organic and unsettling churn within. A milky, bone-like substance slithered against the glass, its movements as hostile as a nest of agitated vipers.
"No matter how many times I see it," Orochimaru murmured, a sinister smile gracing his lips, "the transformation is simply… beautiful."
Beside him, Itachi Uchiha didn't so much as blink.
"I think your definition of 'beautiful ' is different from everyone else's."
"Oh, Itachi-kun, don't be so narrow-minded," Orochimaru chided, his gaze never leaving the tank. "Raw, untamed life force possesses its own unique allure. It isn't all about your brooding, minimalist aesthetic."
"It's still disgusting," Itachi stated, his face an impassive mask.
"Stubborn as ever," Orochimaru chuckled. "So. You turn nineteen tomorrow. Feeling nostalgic? Reflective?"
"No."
"How boring. Nineteen is a significant year." Orochimaru gestured with his chin toward the tank. "This one, for instance, had his entire life mapped out by nineteen."
Itachi finally turned his head, a flicker of impatience in his dark eyes.
"Did you call me here merely to discuss my birthday?"
"Of course not. I am well aware your time is… precious," Orochimaru said, the sarcasm dripping from his words like venom. He tapped a long finger on the glass. "He is almost ready. He just needs one final push. But…"
"I'll inform him," Itachi said, already turning to leave.
"Wait." Orochimaru paused, a spark of genuine curiosity in his gaze. "One more thing. For three years, that man has rarely set foot outside the Uchiha district. What, does he do in there all day?"
Itachi stopped at the door and glanced back over his shoulder. "He sleeps."
And with that, he was gone.
"Sleeps?' Orochimaru turned the word over in his mind. 'For three years? It had to be a lie. Surely.'
'That man' was, of course, Madara Uchiha. His presence in Konoha was the worst-kept secret among the village's upper echelons, who spoke of him only in hushed, fearful tones, never by name.
The sole reason anyone in the Hokage's office managed to sleep at night was the fact that he seemed content to remain utterly detached from Konoha's political machinations.
"So. Is Hashirama finally going to wake up?"
Speak of the devil. Madara's voice cut through the lab's sterile silence. He was dressed in simple black garments, but his intense, crimson sharingans were fixed on the tank, seeming to pierce through the chaotic form within.
"We have reached the final stage. We require your… unique expertise," Orochimaru said, forgoing any pleasantries. "The requirement is the same for him, and for all the others."
He gestured to a line of identical tanks lining the far wall.
Madara's expression darkened like a gathering thunderhead.
"Three years. You made me wait for three years. Some 'greatest researcher in the world' you turned out to be."
Orochimaru offered a nonchalant shrug.
"I never claimed that title. The man in the Land of Waves has me soundly beaten, and I am secure enough to admit it."
Madara merely grunted, stepping closer to the main tank. The white substance inside writhed violently, sensing the immense power radiating from him.
Click. Hiss.
A series of chain-like conduits snapped into place at the tank's core. Madara placed his palm flat on the control panel, and a visible wave of energy—his spiritual pressure—flooded the system.
The air in the room shimmered and warped. The tank glowed from within. Then, with a sound like shattering porcelain, the white shell encasing the figure inside cracked and began to fall away in pieces.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across Orochimaru's face. "It is done."
—
Meanwhile, in the Land of Waves, the atmosphere was considerably less… scientific.
Yuto was sprawled across his absurdly large bed, one arm draped around Kushina, the other around Mikoto. He looked like a man who had just run a marathon and somehow emerged victorious.
Kushina poked him in the stomach, a wide, satisfied grin on her face.
"Wow. Just, wow. Three years of waiting, and let me tell you, it was worth every single second. Mama finally got a real meal around here!"
Mikoto elbowed her gently, her cheeks flushed a bright crimson. "Must you be so… crude?"
"Uh, excuse me? Who was the one abandoning all 'refinement' about five minutes ago?" Kushina shot back, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "I'm pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard you. They'll be filing a noise complaint."
"I—that was different!" Mikoto stammered, her embarrassment deepening.
"Oh, I know. 'Couldn't help yourself,' right?" Kushina teased mercilessly. "First-time jitters. It's a thing."
"You are the worst!"
"There was blood! In my book, that makes it a first time!"
"It's not the same! This body is… it's new!"
Yuto simply listened to their back-and-forth, a mixture of amusement and exhaustion on his face.
Who knew that a soul-based upgrade came with a full… warranty… down there? He was still trying to process it all.
"Alright, alright," Kushina said, shifting gears and propping herself up on an elbow to look directly at Yuto. "Enough teasing. I have a very important question. Who's next on the menu? I vote for Konan. Gotta respect the hierarchy you know. Third Wife privileges!"
Yuto let out a weary sigh.
"Can we maybe… pump the brakes a little? We do have, you know, actual world-altering matters to deal with."
"This isn't world-altering?" Kushina gasped in mock horror.
"How is this not important business?" Mikoto added, her tone surprisingly earnest.
"Hello? Continuing the family line?" Kushina declared. "That's, like, the most traditional, important business there is!"
"She's not wrong," Mikoto agreed softly.
Yuto's eye twitched.
"Ladies. I'm still fourteen. Isn't this whole 'heir and a spare' conversation a bit premature?"
Kushina waved a dismissive hand.
"Pfft. With your lifespan? Is there any real difference between 14 and 40? You're good to go."
"Besides," Mikoto said, a hopeful little smile gracing her lips, "who knows? Maybe one of us will get lucky."
A wicked glint appeared in Kushina's eye. "Ooh, wanna bet?"
Mikoto looked intrigued. "Bet what?"
"Whoever gets pregnant first gets to be the official big sister."
Mikoto's jaw dropped.
"You cannot be serious. That's how you want to decide this?!"
"Hehe so, wanna bet?" Kushina repeated, her grin widening into a challenge.
A competitive fire ignited in Mikoto's eyes. "You're on."
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