When assigning battle deployments earlier, Hiruzen Sarutobi hadn't mentioned Orochimaru's team of four; naturally, he had other plans for them.
Everyone could guess why: having captured the Third Kazekage, Orochimaru's group had earned the greatest merit on the Land of Rivers front, and of course they would attend the negotiations—even if only as symbolic participants.
They were essentially mascots. The youngest of the four was only twelve, the oldest twenty-four—formidable on the battlefield, but politically insignificant. Yet even such a role drew envy; a spectacle like this came once in a lifetime, and anyone inside could boast about it for decades.
"Back in the day, your grandfather was right there. Drums, gongs, firecrackers, village banners everywhere—one wrong step and you'd squash a few Sand ninja."
The crowd's eyes followed Orochimaru's group with burning envy. They knew better than to rush recklessly; facing the Third Kazekage and Shukaku could cost them their lives, yet witnessing it was a privilege worth fighting for.
Everyone understood that the Fourth Hokage seat would likely be decided among the three Sannin and Sakumo; everyone else could step aside. As for Hayashi, he was naturally ignored. Too young.
When the four stepped out of the office, the sun blazed overhead. Hayashi looked up at the sky: thick clouds backlit by sunlight shifted like an ever-changing scroll.
"So you're using Mikoto's injury as an excuse?" Orochimaru asked suddenly, his voice smooth but probing.
"Yes. What else could I do? I can't take missions right now." Hayashi shrugged.
They were discussing the Uchiha plan to ambush the Sand delegation. After returning from Hyuga Tenku, Hayashi had consulted Orochimaru via summoned snake and decided on this pretext: Mikoto needed rest and surgery, a rock-solid reason everyone would accept.
Orochimaru still found it hard to believe. The war was over—why risk another attack?
Wartime losses might be reimbursed, but losses you invited yourself? The Village wouldn't pay, and might even cheer. To Orochimaru, war had no morality—only sides.
Sand ninja had killed Uchiha kin, and they had killed theirs. Now that Sunagakure had surrendered and Konoha held the upper hand, why provoke further mutual destruction?
Yet exceptions existed. Without deep understanding of the Uchiha's unique temperament, their decisions could seem incomprehensible. Orochimaru's intellect was sharp, his skill formidable, but when it came to people, he still had room to learn. The old foxes like Hyuga Tenku were far beyond his calculations.
"Then that's settled. I have an experiment waiting—heading back," Orochimaru said, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Jiraiya caught his arm.
"Since the war ended, the four of us haven't gathered. Let's do it now; this afternoon we'll be busy again."
"Fine," Sakumo agreed; he had nothing pressing at home.
Hayashi hesitated, but Jiraiya quickly added, "My treat."
Hayashi's eyes lit up, almost nodding, when Jiraiya continued, "The place is that alley east of the business district. You all know which one, right?"
Hayashi froze. He knew it all too well. Two years ago, returning to Konoha, he had been tricked by Nawaki, ending up treating over a hundred classmates there. He'd disguised himself as Tsunade to cover a tab, been discovered, and forced to impersonate Jiraiya. Heaven knew how much debt had accumulated—enough to make Jiraiya this frantic.
"In four years I've been back three times—how does a huge tab land under my name every year I'm away? Someone explain!"
Hayashi knew he had only ever run one tab; the rest were beyond his control.
"Jiraiya, I still have an experiment—why not ask Tsunade?" Orochimaru said, sounding slightly guilty.
"I'll invite her too; yesterday she ordered take-out under my name. Huh? Where are you going, Hayashi?"
"Bathroom… old problem, frequent urination, you get it," Hayashi said honestly.
Sakumo watched the exchange in silent disbelief, muttering under his breath: Absolutely not marrying my daughter to Hayashi!
Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in Sunagakure, the atmosphere was oppressive.
War's shadow had not lifted. The Third Kazekage remained in Konoha's hands, leaving the Village vulnerable.
Yesterday, the Sand negotiation team had departed; Ebizo had stayed behind. As an Elder, he had to maintain order and guard against any Shukaku incursions.
At noon, he walked through the empty streets toward the Ninja Academy. This hour was his favorite—free from clutter, rare in Sunagakure.
The sky was unnaturally bright; rows of tall sand-castles stood like giants. Peace looked beautiful, but the price had been enormous.
Checking his watch at 11:30, Ebizo frowned. By now, Scorpion should have left the Academy, but there was no sign of him.
"What—Scorpion didn't attend classes this morning?"
"Yes, Lord Ebizo. I thought you knew," came the reply.
Ebizo's patience wore thin. He hurried home, only to find it empty. Scorpion was nowhere.
He checked the boy's usual haunts, finding nothing. Panic rose in him. If Scorpion was missing, what would Chiyo do when she returned?
Where could the child have gone?
A chilling thought struck him. Terrified, he spun and sprinted toward Sunagakure's cemetery.
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