Chapter 5: Pact of the Shadow Serpent
At the edge of Konoha's Training Ground 7, Nara Shikamaru leaned against a rough tree trunk, every muscle in his body groaning in protest. The sweat had long since dried, leaving white, salt-like frost on his dark blue training uniform.
Nearby, Choji was snoring heavily, like an exhausted bear cub. Ino was curled up, her head resting on her arm, her breathing shallow and rapid. The pallor from her spiritual energy exhaustion had yet to fade.
The last embers of the sunset flickered in Shikamaru's eyes, but they couldn't dispel his cold assessment.
"Not enough..." A hoarse whisper escaped his chapped lips, so quiet only he could hear it. His gaze swept over his exhausted comrades before returning to his own hands, which trembled slightly, fresh bloodstains from kunai practice still visible on his knuckles.
In three months of insane, high-pressure training, the maximum range of his Shadow Possession Jutsu had finally broken fifteen meters. Ino's activation speed for her Mind Body Switch was astonishingly fast. Choji's transitions with his Expansion Jutsu were much smoother. Their progress was visible to the naked eye; compared to their peers, they were monsters.
But in Alex's memory, it was far from enough.
Hidan's bizarre immortality and the shriek of his Triple-Bladed Scythe tearing through the air; Kakuzu's five hearts, his immense chakra, and his terrifying jutsu... and the other, even more unfathomable figures within the Akatsuki.
Relying solely on the Ino-Shika-Cho formation and the Nara clan's secret shadow techniques... in front of those true monsters, they were as fragile as paper.
No matter how fast the shadow was, could it be faster than Hidan's curse ritual? Could it bind all of Kakuzu's separated Earth Grudge Fear threads? When Asuma was cornered, what he would need wasn't a distraction, but absolute power capable of tearing through the crisis! A wall of steel that could shield everyone and protect their teacher.
The Nara clan's secret arts were masterpieces of calculation and control, perfect for support. But they lacked the decisive edge to end a fight in one blow, and they lacked the absolute defense to protect everything.
"I need... a sharper 'spear,' or... a sturdier 'shield'..." Shikamaru murmured, his fingers unconsciously picking at the tree bark. His brain, like the most precise of instruments, rapidly scanned its vast database of information.
The resources of Konoha? The Third Hokage was old, Danzo was sinister and unpredictable, Lord Jiraiya was always traveling, and Lady Tsunade had not yet returned... To acquire the power needed to fight the Akatsuki through conventional means would take too much time and involve too many variables.
A name—cold, slick, and lethally alluring—rose like a venomous snake from the abyss, coiling silently around his thoughts: Orochimaru.
A rogue ninja, a mad scientist, a practitioner of forbidden human experiments... the descriptions in Konoha's textbooks were horrifying.
But he was also one of the ninja world's foremost developers of forbidden jutsu, an explorer of the very essence of life and the limits of power. His research was enough to make anyone desperate for strength take the ultimate risk.
The Village Hidden in the Sound, the den he had built from scratch, might hold the key to breaking his current plateau—a forbidden jutsu to compensate for his shadow's lack of offensive power, or... a method of body modification that could allow him to withstand greater strain and unleash strength beyond his limits.
The risk? Suicidal odds. Making a deal with Orochimaru was no different than dancing with a viper. But the seven hundred and thirty days... no, now there were fewer than six hundred days until he would officially join Asuma's squad!
The image of Asuma falling was as clear as yesterday every time he closed his eyes. In the depths of Alex's soul, the flame that had burned for the sake of protection had never been extinguished.
"Worth a try." He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. The sharp pain suppressed the fear churning inside him.
For the man who was like a father to him, for the two exhausted idiots behind him, and to never again repeat the tragedy he was powerless to stop... even if it was the abyss, he had to take the plunge.
The Nara compound was cloaked in the unique tranquility of the night, with only a single lamp lit in the study.
Shikamaru pushed the door open to see his father, Nara Shikaku, sitting before the shogi board. He was resting his chin on one hand, holding a bishop piece in the other, his gaze lost in the grid.
"Father," Shikamaru's voice was tight.
"Mm," Shikaku grunted without looking up. "You're back later than usual. I imagine you've been working Choji and Ino pretty hard."
"They can handle it," Shikamaru said, sitting opposite him. "I need to talk to you."
Shikaku finally looked up, his deep eyes landing on his son's face. He said nothing, simply waiting.
"I... I want to go on a trip," Shikamaru said, trying to make it sound like a simple excursion. "To the north, to the forests near the border of the Land of Rice Paddies. I heard there are some rare medicinal herbs there that might... help with chakra control." The excuse was so clumsy he felt foolish even saying it; the border of the Land of Rice Paddies was precisely where the Sound Village's influence began.
Shikaku was silent. He set down his piece, picked up his cold tea, and then put it down again. His gaze returned to Shikamaru, and this time it stayed, as if trying to pierce through the forced calm to see the soul-crushing secret within.
"Medicinal herbs..." Shikaku began slowly, his voice low and flat. "The northern forests... are certainly remote enough. How long will you be gone?"
"...Not sure. A month or two, maybe longer."
Shikaku stood and walked to the window, his back to Shikamaru. "Shikamaru," his voice came through the darkness, heavy with insight, "you're my son. Since you were little, you've hated trouble. You'd rather lie down than sit."
He turned around, his eyes like torches, locking onto Shikamaru. "But the sweat you've shed these last three months, the injuries you've sustained, those blood-stained drafts in the study... and that thing you can't hide in your eyes when you look at that Asuma kid... Tell me, is this really just about finding a few 'medicinal herbs'?"
The air froze. So he knew. The wisdom of Nara Shikaku was never confined to a shogi board.
Shikamaru took a deep breath and met his father's all-seeing gaze. No excuses, no lies. He straightened his thin back, the gravity, resolve, and near-tragic courage in his eyes now laid bare.
"Father," his voice was unnaturally calm, yet each word was heavy as lead. "Some 'trouble' can't be avoided just by hiding from it. And some 'herbs'... only grow in the most dangerous places. I have to go."
Shikaku stared at his son for a long time. His expression was a storm of emotions—worry, heartbreak, a flicker of anger at being deceived, but all of it was finally washed over by a deep, helpless understanding.
He knew that stubbornness hidden beneath his son's lazy exterior. He also saw the weight of what his son was trying to protect.
Finally, he let out a long sigh that seemed to carry the worries of the entire clan.
He walked to a cabinet, opened a hidden compartment, and took out a tough, palm-sized scroll and a bulging ninja pouch.
"Take these," Shikaku said, his voice raspy. "The scroll contains the Nara clan's secret 'Shadow Release: Stealth Jutsu.' It might save your life. The pouch has the highest quality rations, chakra supplements, and..." He paused, his eyes like daggers. "...poison. For your kunai. A last resort."
Shikamaru wordlessly accepted the items. He didn't say thank you; instead, he gave his father a deep, formal bow.
"Come back alive," Shikaku's final words were as heavy as stone.
"I will."
The next morning, Shikamaru stood in the mist of Training Ground 7. Choji and Ino were already there.
"Shikamaru! Where are you going?" Ino demanded, her intuition sharp as ever. "Looking for herbs? Who are you kidding! Are you ditching us because we're dragging you down?"
"Is it because we're too useless?" Choji added, his eyes full of hurt. "We'll work harder! Don't go..."
Shikamaru felt a warmth spread through his chest, followed by a deeper ache. "What a drag... What are you thinking?" he said, ruffling Choji's hair with more force than usual. "Fatty, eat less junk food and work on the stability of your jutsu. If you're still wobbling around like a balloon when I get back, I'll feed all your hidden chips to the Nara deer."
He then turned to Ino and pushed a small, oil-paper packet into her hand. Inside were several dried, white daisy petals.
"For when your head hurts too much. Brew it in water," he said flatly. "Don't just tough it out. Spiritual energy exhaustion is serious. And practice your jutsu's 'focus thread' technique. Think about how you find the main stem when you arrange flowers."
His tone hardened. "And don't slack off. While I'm gone, Choji, you will complete three sets of your maximum expansion jutsu transitions every day, with double the weight. Ino, you will train your focus on targets moving fifty percent faster. I'll test you when I get back. Fail to meet the requirements..." He let the threat hang in the air. "And you'll face the consequences."
Ino clutched the packet of dried flowers. "You jerk, Shikamaru!" she yelled, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You'd better get your ass back here quick! If you dare to come back missing an arm or a leg, just see how I'll torture you with my Mind Body Switch!"
Shikamaru gave them one last, long look, as if to burn the image into his soul.
"Later."
He turned and walked away, his back to the rising sun, a lonely and resolute figure heading north into the unknown.
The journey was harder than he could have imagined. After nearly a month of sleeping under the stars, fighting off beasts, and surviving on military rations, he crossed the border. The landscape of the Land of Rice Paddies grew desolate. The sky was perpetually gray, the forests twisted and unhealthy. The shadow of the Sound Village was like an invisible, venomous miasma covering the land.
Finally, from a ridge of jagged rocks, he saw it.
Below, nestled in a valley, stood the Village Hidden in the Sound. It was a nightmare made manifest. Twisted, sharp, black stone structures clawed at the sky like the fangs of a giant beast. Pulsating pipes, like massive blood vessels, snaked across their surfaces. The entire village was shrouded in a thin, viscous purple mist, and the air reeked of decay and something sickeningly sweet.
Even from a distance, an aura of corruption, madness, and extreme danger washed over him, a cold so real it nearly shattered his Stealth Jutsu.
He slipped down the ridge, moving like a true shadow, towards the horrifying village.
Inside, the narrow, twisting corridors were like the intestines of a great beast. The air was thick with the smell of chemicals and rot. He moved through the shadows, his nerves stretched to their breaking point, dodging patrols of shinobi with dead, violent eyes. He followed the strongest, most disturbing scent of chakra and biological experiments.
It led him to a vast, cavernous underground space.
It was a laboratory from hell. All around him were massive cultivation tanks filled with a grotesque menagerie of experiments: humans with limbs twisted and fused together, beasts with extra organs, and unidentifiable masses of flesh that pulsed faintly in green fluid.
At the center of it all, on a raised platform, a single figure stood with his back to him. He wore a loose white kimono with purple, snake-like patterns, his long black hair like silk.
The aura he projected was as cold, slick, and unfathomable as a ten-thousand-year-old abyss.
Orochimaru.
As if sensing his presence, the figure turned slowly, gracefully, like a serpent.
A face so pale it was almost translucent. Long, golden, vertical pupils, like those of a reptile, held no human emotion—only a cold, piercing curiosity that seemed to look straight through flesh and bone. The corners of his lips curled into a dangerous, playful smile.
"Oh my?"
A hoarse, slick voice, like a snake's tongue flicking against scales, echoed through the lab, drilling directly into Shikamaru's ears. The golden eyes locked onto the exact shadow where he was hiding, as if his Stealth Jutsu was nothing but a parlor trick.
"A lost little... deer?"
The cold smile deepened.
"A little brat from the Nara clan... What a rare guest."