The second the word "money" left his mouth, the wind just died.
Even the swirling snowflakes froze mid-air, pinned in place like someone hit the pause button on the whole world.
Orochimaru's grin locked solid; the curve of his lips still halfway up, now iced over with a layer of frost.
Those golden slit pupils flashed shock first, then darkened into something thick and ugly. He hadn't even asked the Uchiha for research funds yet, and this kid beat him to the punch?
Was the little brat here just to mess with him?
Him? One of the Legendary Sannin?
The thought made his pupils shrink to razor-thin lines, like a viper locking onto prey.
Killing intent rolled off him in waves, heavy and cold, pressing down on Makoto's chest until every breath tasted like rust. It was like a python wrapping tighter and tighter; lungs screaming, pressure exploding.
Makoto forced the smile to stay glued on his face, but damn, it was hard.
Shisui and Itachi both froze too, eyes wide with what-the-hell-just-happened shock. Life choices were being questioned.
They'd spent the whole walk prepping to help Orochimaru become the Fifth Hokage. Borrowing cash never came up.
Shisui's brain blue-screened: We were this close to sealing the deal; how did it crash so fast?
The second the killing intent spiked again, Itachi moved faster than a rattlesnake in snow. One Shunshin and he was in front of Makoto, right hand on his tool pouch, three-tomoe Sharingan spinning to life in those black eyes.
Shisui slid in front of Itachi, left hand clamped on the sword hilt behind his back, his own Sharingan whirling slow and wary, flames of caution burning bright.
Shisui wasn't big on words, but he was big on confidence. Even against a Sannin, he wasn't backing down.
One sentence, and the whole vibe shattered.
Snowflakes drifted between them, but the moment they touched Orochimaru's aura, crack; they flash-froze into tiny ice shards that pinged off the ground like glass.
Borrowing money: century-level boss fight, no matter the world. Talking cash kills vibes; talking vibes kills cash. The ancients weren't lying.
Makoto had barely mentioned money and Orochimaru flipped faster than a page in a manga. Total insult to the Sannin brand.
If he could just bolt from the village right now, he'd be shaking down the ultimate whale; Tsunade; instead.
Orochimaru licked his lips. "You two wanna play?"
"Hold up!"
Makoto's voice cut in, zero fear in the tone.
Orochimaru actually paused, golden eyes narrowing with interest. This kid really wasn't scared of him.
The Uchiha were infamous for protecting their own, but without a damn good excuse, Orochimaru wasn't letting this slide.
Still, the killing intent dialed back a notch, replaced with a twisted kind of amusement; like watching a cornered animal fight.
At his word, the flood of tiny snakes that had been surging forward stopped dead, hundreds of forked tongues hissing, stench and snow mixing in a nauseating wave.
Power matters. No backup? You're just a punk.
If Makoto didn't have the Uchiha clan behind him, Orochimaru would've beaten him half-dead first, then talked.
Makoto exhaled, stepped forward half a pace. "You trying to get something for nothing here, Orochimaru?"
Boom. First strike. He flipped the script and went on the attack, loud and righteous.
Orochimaru's tongue flicked across his lips again, pale face twisting into a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me grin.
"We're still young. Potential's untapped. We need seed money."
Makoto rattled it off fast, eyes blazing. "Give us a boost now, and down the line we might even unlock eyes like Madara Uchiha."
"Then we skyrocket to the top tier and serve you better. This is all to help you faster!"
"I'm just looking out for you, man!"
He threw his hands up, all duh. "If you won't even front startup cash, how are we supposed to trust your sincerity? Just sweet talk?"
Orochimaru's eyes darkened again, but the murder vibe faded. Madara-level power… yeah, that got the gears turning.
Makoto pulled the ultimate trump card: "You know the Uchiha. We keep our word. Never lie."
True; bad rep in the village, but their credit was rock-solid.
Orochimaru tapped a finger on his arm, weighing pros and cons at light speed. "You Uchiha geniuses… need money?"
Hell yeah we do, Fugaku's a cheapskate… Makoto swallowed that. "Whether we need it isn't the point. Your good faith is."
"Show us some skin in the game. We'll pay you back tenfold, hundredfold. Deal?"
Blank check, baby. He's defecting soon anyway; can't cash it from the other side of the border.
Silence. Orochimaru scanned Itachi's spinning Sharingan; calm way beyond his years. Shisui's white-knuckle grip on the sword. Then back to Makoto's flat, fearless black eyes.
Interesting.
He was strapped for cash. Danzo had his research budget in a chokehold.
And the kid wasn't wrong; get them strong early, and the Uchiha's power structure would be his to wield. Clan resources were the deepest in the village.
Plus, no way the brat would dare scam him. Piss him off, and he and Danzo could crush the kid together; the Third would probably thank them.
With a smirk, Orochimaru flicked his wrist. A scroll shot from his sleeve and thunked into the snow at Makoto's feet.
"Take it."
Voice still cold, but the bone-freezing edge was gone. He dragged the last word out: "Don't disappoint me."