"Lightning Release: Five Finger Lightning Bullet!"
A sharp crackle of energy filled the training ground as Orochimaru's right hand glowed, the fingertips sparking with condensed lightning. In a flash, she released a barrage of small yet deadly lightning bullets. Each one shot forward like a streak of silver-blue light, colliding precisely with the fireballs rushing toward her. Sparks exploded in the air, the violent clash of elements illuminating the night with an eerie glow.
The smoke hadn't even cleared when Uchiha Yashiro lunged forward, kunai in hand, aiming for her chest. Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed. With a fluid twist of her body, she sidestepped the strike. Her left hand shot out, pressing down firmly on Yashiro's right wrist, halting the kunai mid-swing.
Her right hand, still crackling with residual lightning, pressed against the side of his neck. The electric current hissed faintly, biting into his skin. Yashiro's pupils shrank in shock, his mouth opening as though to say something, but the words never formed. A sharp pain seared through his body, his strength draining away. His consciousness faded almost instantly, and his eyes rolled back as he collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
"Yashiro!"
Uchiha Youka's voice cracked with panic. His eyes darted to his fallen comrade and then back to Orochimaru, his face twisting in anger and disbelief. "What did you do to him?!"
Orochimaru tilted her head, her expression cold yet faintly mocking. Her voice dripped with disdain as she answered, "He's already… dead. Dead because of your foolishness. It was your arrogance that brought him here to challenge me. It was your blindness that convinced him he could win. You killed him—your foolishness killed him."
As she spoke, a horrifying sight unfolded before Youka's eyes. A deep, ragged wound tore open across Yashiro's neck, blood gushing out like a crimson waterfall. Yashiro twitched weakly, his face pale, his hand trembling as he reached out toward Youka. His lips parted, and though his voice was faint and broken, the plea was unmistakable.
"Save… me…"
The blood, the gasping voice, the desperation—every detail seared itself into Youka's mind. His eyes went wide, red veins spreading across them until they looked ready to burst. His breath grew ragged, and with a strangled cry, he clutched his head in agony. The scream that tore from his throat was raw, piercing, and utterly filled with despair.
But then… silence.
Youka's body slumped forward. He, too, collapsed into unconsciousness, unable to withstand the mental assault.
Orochimaru watched them both coolly, her expression unreadable.
"Uchiha without the Sharingan… too weak." Her voice was flat, laced with quiet scorn. "They can't even break free of such a simple Genjutsu."
She let her gaze linger on the two unconscious forms sprawled on the ground. They looked fragile, almost pitiful, lying there with slack expressions, still trapped in the illusions of their own minds. A small frown crept across Orochimaru's lips. She had wasted chakra dealing with their challenge, chakra she would have preferred to save for her own training.
"Just this level," she muttered. "And they dared to challenge me? They underestimate me far too much."
At that moment, one of her Shadow Clones approached, its expression mirroring her own curiosity. "How should we deal with them?" it asked.
Orochimaru tapped her chin thoughtfully. Then, without hesitation, she crouched down and tugged at Uchiha Youka's pouch. Inside was a small, worn wallet. She flipped it open, revealing a few crumpled bills and an assortment of coins.
"Check how much money there is," she said coldly. "If it's enough, it can cover their challenge fee."
The Shadow Clones gathered around eagerly, leaning in to peek at the contents. But as the paltry sum revealed itself, their faces fell. Their earlier anticipation turned into visible disappointment. They exchanged glances, each of them radiating the same unspoken thought: This is all they had? And yet they dared to pick a fight with us?
A few of the clones even looked down at the unconscious Youka with thinly veiled contempt, as though silently judging his audacity.
"Are we still training?" one of the clones finally asked, breaking the silence.
Orochimaru shook her head, straightening up and tucking the meager wallet back onto Youka's chest. "Never mind. That's enough for today."
At her command, the three Shadow Clones dispelled themselves in quick puffs of smoke, leaving only Orochimaru standing alone among the two fallen Uchiha.
She was about to turn and leave when a familiar voice rang out from the edge of the training field.
"Orochimaru, that scream just now—what happened?"
Jiraiya came jogging into view, his messy white hair bouncing with each step. His eyes immediately locked onto Yashiro and Youka lying motionless on the ground. Alarm flared across his face.
"They came to challenge me," Orochimaru replied casually, glancing back at the unconscious Uchiha. Her words were delivered so calmly that it sounded as though she were describing the weather. "Now they're sleeping like babies."
"Challenge you?!" Jiraiya repeated, disbelief thick in his voice. He looked around the training ground, scanning for scorch marks, broken earth, or signs of battle. There were none. The place was pristine, untouched, as though no fight had ever occurred.
His brows furrowed. No way…
He turned his gaze back to the Uchiha. Could they really have been defeated so easily? The Uchiha Clan prided itself on strength, especially in combat. Yet here they lay, unconscious and harmless, without so much as a bruise to show for their efforts.
Jiraiya swallowed. "The Uchiha Clan can't be this weak… can they?" he muttered under his breath. "Or is Orochimaru simply… too strong?"
Before he could dwell on it further, Orochimaru spoke again. "Jiraiya, there's something I want to ask you."
She tossed Youka's wallet back onto his chest without a second glance and began walking away from the field.
Jiraiya quickly followed, his curiosity piqued. "What is it? If I know the answer, I'll definitely tell you!" He grinned, happy to be useful.
"What about them?" he asked, tilting his head toward the two unconscious Uchiha.
"They seem to be sleeping quite soundly," Orochimaru said with a faint smirk.
"Sleeping?" Jiraiya repeated, chuckling awkwardly. "Heh, if you say so…"
Orochimaru ignored his strange look and continued. "Earlier, you mentioned your training in Sage Chakra on Mount Myōboku. I want you to tell me about it. What does it feel like to absorb Natural Energy? If you can't explain, then forget I asked. You don't need to feel awkward."
Her golden eyes gleamed with genuine curiosity. Mastering Sage Mode was essential for her ambitions. She lacked the special bloodlines that granted others overwhelming power. To reach the next stage, she needed something greater.
Jiraiya's expression grew serious. "There's nothing I can't say," he declared, puffing out his chest. "But make no mistake—it was incredibly arduous training!"
He launched into a dramatic retelling of his time at Mount Myōboku. He spoke of the toads teaching him to use oil to sense and draw in Natural Energy, of the pain and difficulty of balancing it with his chakra, and even of the embarrassing moment when he nearly transformed into a toad himself.
Orochimaru listened carefully, her sharp mind analyzing every detail. Natural Energy—the omnipresent life force of the world. She recalled how the God Tree itself had absorbed the planet's Natural Energy to bear Chakra Fruit. Whether it was Mount Myōboku's toads or Ryuchi Cave's snakes, they all drew from this same source.
But then why did their Sage Modes differ? Why did Jiraiya gain toad-like features, while those of Ryuchi Cave took on serpentine traits?
Her mind turned briefly to Shikkotsu Forest. If Tsunade had learned Sage Mode there, would her features have become slug-like, her body secreting mucus? The thought almost made her chuckle.
Yes, she understood now. Sage transformation reflected the nature of the inheritance itself.
Her thoughts shifted to Tsunade again—her vanity, her obsession with appearance, her refusal to age naturally. Orochimaru couldn't help but smirk. Of course she would reject something like Shikkotsu Forest's Sage Mode.
With a sudden spark of inspiration, Orochimaru pulled out her notebook. She scribbled furiously, her eyes shining with excitement.
Women love beauty. They are willing to spend a fortune on it. If I use my medical knowledge to create products—lotions, masks, creams—I could make an enormous profit. But for that, I'll need merchants, caravans, partners… loyal subordinates.
Her mind conjured an image of Kakuzu, the infamous rogue ninja who valued money above all else. If wealth could sway him, he'd make the perfect ally. But with my current strength, approaching him would be suicide. I must grow stronger first.
She closed the notebook with a snap, resting her chin on her hand as she gazed at the framed photographs on her desk. One showed her alongside Jiraiya, Tsunade, and their teacher, Hiruzen Sarutobi. Another captured Tsunade in a nurse's uniform, smiling brightly.
"How much longer can this peace last…?" Orochimaru whispered to herself. Thoughts of the looming Second Shinobi World War filled her with unease. She had no true loyalty to Konoha, no flame of the so-called Will of Fire within her. But when war came, she knew she would still fight.
For now, though, there were more immediate concerns: training, research, and preparing for the future.
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