Drip... drip...
The sound of dripping water echoed in layers through the arched tunnel, mixed with the mournful whistle of wind from unknown depths. The air was thick with the smell of damp mold and old rust.
In the shadows, a black cat lay crouched. Its paws toyed with several half-dead white snakes.
Whenever a snake stopped moving, the cat would lift its paw, allowing the reptile to writhe in a desperate attempt to escape, only to slam its paw down again. It was a game of pure malice.
Suddenly, sensing something, the cat lifted its head.
Only now could its face be seen clearly.
The cat had heterochromia. One eye was amber; the other was a flat, milky white.
A normal person would assume the cat was blind in one eye. But no shinobi would mistake that pearlescent hue. It was the Byakugan—the "All-Seeing White Eye" that the other four Great Nations coveted.
Ao of the Hidden Mist was known as the "Byakugan Killer" simply because he possessed a single stolen eye, earning him a spot in Konoha's Bingo Book. No one would ever suspect that a madman would transplant such a precious dōjutsu into a stray cat.
And yet, someone had.
The black cat snatched a dead snake in its jaws and leaped into the shadows of the overhead pipes, moving as silently as a cloud.
Perched on a rusted bend in the pipe, the cat's white pupil dilated, while its natural eye narrowed into a slit. It stared down at the calm surface of the sewage water below.
The water was knee-deep, oily and turbid, reflecting the maze of pipes overhead.
Splash... splash...
Moments later, the surface broke. Three dark figures sprinted across the water, their reflections twisting into grotesque shapes in the ripples.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and his Anbu had wasted considerable time navigating the labyrinth of decoys and traps Orochimaru had laid. The winding, subterranean drainage system was a place only rats and snakes could love. Orochimaru's habits were truly becoming indistinguishable from the serpents he summoned.
"..."
Hiruzen suddenly stopped. He looked at a rusted iron door ahead, his expression darkening. He raised a hand, signaling the Anbu.
BANG!
With a muffled boom, the iron door was blasted open.
A wave of cold air rushed out, carrying a nauseating cocktail of scents: rotting meat, harsh antiseptic, and the sweet, metallic tang of fresh blood.
The yellow laboratory lights cast long, stark shadows. But the scene illuminated by those lights made Hiruzen's pupils contract violently.
The walls were splattered with dark red stains, looking like abstract paintings done in dried blood. The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling swung from the force of the explosion, making the shadows dance.
The floor was coated in layers of black-brown grime—evidence of sins that had been washed away but never fully cleaned.
Hiruzen could hear the sudden, sharp intake of breath from the two Anbu beside him. They were staring, transfixed, at the rows of cylindrical glass tanks lining the room.
Inside the tanks, suspended in pale green liquid, were curled humanoid shapes. Their skin had the translucent, waxy sheen of long-term immersion. Muscle tissue was exposed, held together by crude, worm-like sutures.
Inside chest cavities that had been pried open, hearts could be seen beating. In abdominal cavities, snake-like organs were grafted onto human entrails. Messy wires and tubes extended from the bodies like the tentacles of jellyfish, connecting to machines outside the glass.
There were so many. The tanks bore red serial numbers: "32", "42", "65"...
On the surrounding shelves, jars filled with organs in various stages of development lined the walls, twitching with a grotesque, artificial life.
"This is..." One Anbu whispered, his voice trembling behind his mask.
Truth be told, Hiruzen had been mentally prepared for something like this. The sight was shocking, yes, but not entirely unexpected.
After all, Orochimaru's earliest human experiments—the Hashirama Cell transplantation research—had been conducted with the tacit approval of Hiruzen and the Konoha Council.
Though those subjects had been "volunteers" hoping to restore the Wood Release, the fact remained: Hiruzen was not a man with clean hands.
Even seeing this house of horrors, Hiruzen still felt a pang of reluctance and guilt toward his student.
Until his gaze traveled to the deepest part of the laboratory.
Because Orochimaru's back was to the door, Hiruzen first saw the operating table.
He saw the delicate, childish face. He saw the throat that had been sliced open.
The smile that had been on Hyūga Kumokawa's face moments ago was gone. It had been replaced instantly by a mask of sheer terror. Tears slid silently down his pale cheeks.
Seeing Hiruzen, the boy raised a trembling hand. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but with his windpipe severed, no sound came out.
But Hiruzen could read lips. He saw exactly what the boy was trying to say.
"Third... Grandpa..."
At that moment, hearing the commotion, Orochimaru turned around.
The harsh light illuminated his pale skin, highlighting the blood spatter on his face. Behind him, the headless corpse of Owl was still fountaining blood, turning the floor into a literal pool of gore.
Standing amidst the carnage, scalpel in hand, Orochimaru looked like a demon from hell.
The shock of this single image hit Hiruzen harder than all the glass tanks combined.
Most importantly, he recognized the child.
As the honorary principal of the Ninja Academy, Hiruzen often gave speeches to the students, cultivating his image as the kind, benevolent grandfather and preaching the Will of Fire.
Once, he had visited Kumokawa's class. While speaking about the Will of Fire, he had noticed a boy looking at him with eyes full of overflowing admiration.
Afterward, as usual, the teacher had the students write essays on their thoughts.
Hiruzen rarely had time to read them, but on a whim, remembering that admiring gaze, he had dug out that specific essay.
And he had been stunned.
In that moment, a memory from a few moments prior flashed through Kumokawa's fading consciousness.
Ah, yes.
A few moments ago, before the door burst open.
He had smiled at Orochimaru.
"A useless waste bearing the Caged Bird seal..."
"Fate really handed me the worst possible script."
"But it doesn't matter."
"I was born to be the best actor in the world."
And now, as Hiruzen's horrified gaze locked onto him, Kumokawa let his eyes roll back, his hand falling limply to his side as he collapsed onto the operating table.