"Hmm… I guess that idiot Jiraiya counts."
Orochimaru's mutter slipped out almost unconsciously, the golden gleam in his eyes darkened with faint irritation. Sometimes, he thought, having too many attachments was more curse than blessing. To tie yourself down with bonds that could be cut in an instant—that was weakness.
He didn't envy Jiraiya. Not really.
---
Grandma Mito, seated elegantly in her chair with a shawl draped across her shoulders, studied Orochimaru with that grandmotherly gaze that always seemed to see straight through to his marrow. She reached out with her soft hand and ruffled his black hair, much to his chagrin.
"You're still researching the Iburi Clan's Bloodline Limit, aren't you?" Her tone was part concern, part admiration. "I worry you'll overexert yourself, child."
Orochimaru stiffened slightly at the gesture. He hated being treated like a child, yet… Grandma Mito's touch was different from others. He endured it silently, though his face twisted faintly as if he had bitten into something sour.
Her gaze drifted toward Tsunade, who sat nearby with her chin propped on one hand. Tsunade's expression was thoughtful, though if one looked closely, it was less thought and more the absentminded spacing out of someone already tired of serious matters.
Grandma Mito sighed inwardly. If only my granddaughter had even half of Orochimaru's diligence. No—no, even a third would be enough!
Tsunade was strong, yes. But strong only in her fists, in that monstrous physical power inherited from the Senju line. The girl had utterly failed to grasp the sealing techniques of the Uzumaki. If not for Orochimaru training beside her, nudging her toward refining her chakra control and pushing her into developing her Lightning Release, Tsunade might still be a one-trick brawler who solved every problem with her fists.
Orochimaru himself kept his expression mild, though the corner of his mouth curved slightly in amusement.
"Many things become easier with Shadow Clones," he remarked lightly, as if answering a question no one had asked. His tone was calm, but underneath, there was pride. After all, no one in Konoha understood the Shadow Clone Technique better than him—not even its creator.
Grandma Mito's brows drew together. "Don't rely on Shadow Clones for everything. You know very well, don't you? The Shadow Clone Technique developed by Tobirama has its drawbacks."
Her warning was not unkind. It was laced with care, the voice of one who had seen many lives consumed by ambition.
Orochimaru inclined his head respectfully. "Grandma Mito, I am well aware of the disadvantages. I always keep it within my tolerable limits."
Of course, he did not mention that his relationship with Shadow Clones was far deeper—and stranger—than anyone else's. No one but him would understand the subtle betrayals of his own clones, the slivers of his mind that returned to him with thoughts he had not consciously formed.
---
"Orochimaru." Grandma Mito leaned forward, her expression sharpening. "If your research is beneficial to Konoha, the Village would surely provide you with sufficient funds. Have you considered asking Hiruzen?"
Her tone carried weight. She was not speaking merely as a grandmother but as Uzumaki Mito, wife of the First Hokage, a woman who still influenced the hidden workings of the Village.
Orochimaru let out a soft laugh and spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. "Unfortunately, what I'm currently researching is of no use to Konoha. Even Hiruzen-sensei cannot justify investing heavily into research that may not yield results for decades. As Hokage, his responsibilities are vast. He cannot afford such luxuries."
His voice was calm, but inwardly he sneered at the limits placed on power by politics. Hiruzen, for all his kindness, was still shackled by the Village, by councils, by expectations.
Grandma Mito studied him carefully. There was ambition in this boy—ambition vast enough to consume him if left unchecked. Yet there was also honesty in his words. He would not lie unnecessarily.
After a pause, she asked suddenly, "Orochimaru, do you want to learn the Sealing Technique?"
The boy froze. His golden eyes widened in disbelief. "Eh? Grandma Mito, you're not joking, are you?"
He leaned forward eagerly, unable to hide the spark of hunger that leapt in his gaze.
Bang!
A heavy fist descended squarely upon his head.
"Does it look like I'm joking?" Grandma Mito's voice cracked like thunder.
"Ugh…" Orochimaru clutched his skull with both hands, grimacing. The normally gentle and composed Mito had shown a flash of the ferocity that once shook nations alongside Hashirama. To be struck by her… even Orochimaru had to bite back a whimper.
But beneath the pain, excitement surged. The Sealing Techniques of the Uzumaki—arcane, powerful, feared across the world—this was knowledge that even the most ambitious could only dream of obtaining.
Mito's stern expression softened into a small smile. She lifted one finger and wagged it slightly. "However, if you wish to learn the Sealing Techniques from me, there are conditions. First, your chakra reserves must not be too low when you turn twelve. And second—most important of all—you must learn them in your true body. No tricks, no Shadow Clones, understood?"
Her tone left no room for argument.
Orochimaru's heart sank slightly. He was still young, his chakra capacity impressive for his age but not yet at the level required for advanced sealing. To wait until twelve… it felt like an eternity.
"...Twelve years old, huh…" he muttered, disappointment clouding his features.
"Why are you disappointed?" Mito clenched her fist again, her aura radiating enough menace to silence even Hashirama's rowdiest enemies in the old days. "Do you think learning the Sealing Techniques is easy? I am offering to teach you the heritage of the Uzumaki Clan!"
Orochimaru straightened instantly, spine rigid, expression submissive. "I—I'm so sorry!"
Mito gave a satisfied nod, though a smile tugged at her lips. She could see the hunger in him, yes, but she would temper it with discipline. If anyone in this generation could truly grasp the power of seals, it might well be Orochimaru.
Tsunade, watching the entire exchange, puffed her cheeks in indignation. "Hmph! Grandma, you never offer to teach me seals like that!"
"You can't even memorize the basic formulas without dozing off, Tsunade." Mito's retort was sharp but not cruel. "Besides, you have your own path. Super Strength suits you well enough."
Tsunade pouted, folding her arms. Orochimaru hid a smirk behind his sleeve.
---
Chapter 48: Orochimaru's Laboratory
The seasons shifted. Autumn gave way to winter, and the Land of Fire was blanketed in snow. White stretched endlessly across fields and rooftops, while the breath of villagers rose in plumes of frost.
But deep within the caves of the Iburi Clan, warmth had replaced dampness. New lighting, carefully installed, bathed the stone corridors in a gentle glow. The once shadowed caverns now carried a strange sense of hope.
At the very heart of the cave system lay a secret passage. A mechanism hidden within the stone triggered its opening, revealing a carefully built tunnel that led to a grand, ornately constructed laboratory. Orochimaru's laboratory.
This was no mere hideout. It was a fortress of research, complete with escape routes designed under his orders. If enemies breached the Iburi Clan's home, traps could be sprung and exits opened, allowing the clan to vanish into the snow like phantoms.
Qing He, leader of the Iburi, followed silently as Orochimaru walked among the gleaming instruments and carefully arranged shelves. Anxiety stirred in his chest. Would Orochimaru be dissatisfied?
"Orochimaru-sama, are you satisfied?" His voice carried a tremor.
The boy genius turned, his golden eyes sweeping over the equipment. At last, he nodded. "Very good. You all worked hard."
Relief flooded Qing He's face.
Orochimaru's mind, however, was already elsewhere. He considered the subtleties of genjutsu—visual, auditory, the ease with which the mind could be ensnared without warning. He thought of rare clans like the Shinon, who wove illusions through sound, and of the kunoichi Tayuya, whose flute could summon spectral warriors. Every detail was filed away, cross-referenced against his own future ambitions.
He pulled out a small bag and a scroll of notes, handing them to Qing He. "I developed this formula from the data gathered through Chiriu's experiments. Inside are stabilizing pills. Take one every seven days—or whenever your Bloodline threatens to spiral out of control."
Qing He accepted the bag with trembling hands. His throat tightened. Orochimaru had not only given them medicine—he had given them hope. More than that, he had given them the formula. Trust of this magnitude was beyond imagining.
"Orochimaru-sama…" Tears welled in his eyes.
Orochimaru smiled faintly, though his mind was calculating as ever. Absolute loyalty breeds absolute disloyalty. If they betray me, they become disposable tools.
"Without doubting me because of my youth, you chose to believe I would bring you salvation," he said softly. "I trust you, just as you trust me."
The words struck Qing He like lightning. He dropped to one knee, voice fierce. "The Iburi Clan will never betray your trust, Orochimaru-sama!"
Orochimaru's expression remained mild, but inside he chuckled. We'll see.
"Destroy the formula after memorizing it," he instructed. "If it falls into the wrong hands, your clan will be vulnerable."
Qing He nodded solemnly. After committing every detail to memory, he burned the scroll without hesitation.
"Now," Orochimaru continued, producing another set of papers, "I want you to send personnel to the Land of Waves. Build a processing plant there."
Qing He blinked, confused, until Orochimaru handed him the formula for skincare products. His jaw nearly dropped. "Orochimaru-sama, this…"
"These products will fund my research."
Qing He nearly laughed at the absurdity, but the sharp glint in Orochimaru's eyes silenced him. Cosmetics were meaningless to the cave-dwelling Iburi, but in the outside world, they could become gold mines.
Orochimaru explained with precision: the Land of Waves was poor, unguarded, easily influenced. Perfect for establishing a discreet production line. He even handed Qing He a thick business plan, outlining every step from recruitment to bribery of local officials.
Two suitcases appeared with a puff of chakra smoke—funds for the venture.
Qing He bowed deeply. "Please rest assured, Orochimaru-sama. Leave everything to me."
As he departed, flipping through the business plan, his awe deepened. Orochimaru had thought of everything, down to the last detail. Truly, following his instructions was like moving as a piece on a grand chessboard.
Behind him, in the laboratory, Orochimaru's golden eyes glimmered coldly.
Step by step, the future bends toward me.
---
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