"Acceptable, but not especially satisfying. I can give you seventy-five points at most. That's still a long way from excellence."
Orochimaru stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his narrow, serpentine eyes fixed on Uchiha Gen. His tone was flat, but the judgment inside it was mercilessly clear.
They had completed the mission, yes. But in Orochimaru's eyes, completion alone was never enough. A ninja's worth was decided by what they had sacrificed, what they had grasped, and whether they had the resolve to do what was necessary when it truly mattered.
"You know it yourselves," he continued. "Softheartedness is a fatal weakness for a ninja. Most of the time, it hurts both others and yourself. Still, you were cautious enough. You used summoned ninja crows, sensory ninjutsu, and your heads. You aren't complete fools. That is enough to earn a few points above the passing line of sixty."
Gen lifted his head and met Orochimaru's gaze directly. He could feel the chill beneath that stare, the cold intellect measuring him from the inside out. But hidden beneath that chill was something else as well—a faint acknowledgment.
So the words he had deliberately left behind last night really had reached him. Good. That meant Orochimaru had been watching, just as expected.
"Above passing, but not excellent?" Gen repeated evenly. "Then…"
Orochimaru's lips curved ever so slightly. "You barely passed. From this moment on, you may call me teacher."
Gen and Uzuki Ruri exchanged a glance. In the next instant, they spoke together. "Yes, Orochimaru-sensei!"
At that moment, Sarutobi Enjun came jogging back from the manor grounds, still half out of breath from negotiating with the lord's household. He blinked in confusion at the atmosphere around them, then stared at Orochimaru with widening eyes.
"Huh? Huh?! Orochimaru-sensei?" he blurted. "We passed the test?"
Looking at the noisy, bright-faced Sarutobi Enjun, Orochimaru merely waved one hand in dismissal and turned away as though the matter were beneath further discussion.
"The mission is over. Return to the village and hand it in."
***
The next morning, dew still clung to the flowers and low shrubs outside the Hokage Building. Under the early sunlight, every droplet glimmered like glass, bright and fragile. The village had just awakened, but the office of the Hokage was already at work.
Inside, the Third Hokage sat behind his desk. He accepted the mission report from Orochimaru, lowered his eyes to skim it, then looked up again with a faint crease between his brows.
"You're still too reckless, Orochimaru."
Orochimaru stood across from the desk in his green Jonin vest, pale and composed as ever. "But the results were good, were they not? All three have talent. All three have ability. The only thing left to test is temperament, intelligence, disposition… and perhaps the position you value so much."
As he spoke, Hiruzen Sarutobi took out his seal and pressed it down on the mission report. The soft thump of the stamp landing echoed through the room. Orochimaru watched that motion, then continued as though discussing nothing more serious than the weather.
"Enjun is too naive. You and Biwako have taught him strictly over the years, but you have also protected him too well. He is immature, impulsive, and too innocent. To be blunt, if he doesn't change, Nawaki's lesson is already right in front of us."
The office fell quiet for a moment.
Hiruzen removed the seal, set it aside, and raised his pipe once more. He drew in a long breath, letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly exhaling. Only then did he speak again, the smoke curling between them like something half-hidden and old.
"That is precisely why I entrusted him to you, Orochimaru."
His gaze settled on his prized disciple with unmistakable trust. Nawaki's death two or three years earlier had shaken all of Konoha, and even the aged Mito Uzumaki had spoken openly because of it. No matter how much of that tragedy had come from Nawaki's own recklessness, Orochimaru, as his teacher, could never be entirely free of blame.
And precisely because of that, Hiruzen had chosen him again.
"I believe you will not allow the same thing to happen a second time," the Third Hokage said. "In this village, there is no Jonin I trust more than you. If even you are not suited to lead this team, then who is?"
He paused, then added with a gentleness that would have moved most people, "Raise these three children well, just as I once raised you, Tsunade, and Jiraiya."
For a moment, the office became still.
Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes, though older now, still held the same confidence and warmth they had once held for his disciples. In his mind, Orochimaru was not only a student but a successor. Young, brilliant, terrifyingly talented, proficient in all five elemental transformations—so similar to himself in his prime that it was almost impossible not to place hope on him.
That was the true reason he had handed Sarutobi Enjun over to Orochimaru. At the present moment in Konoha, Orochimaru was the most likely candidate to one day become the Fourth Hokage.
Orochimaru's eyes flickered. Rather than answer directly, he shifted the subject with deliberate ease. "He really does resemble Jiraiya when he was young."
If not for Uchiha Gen's performance, Sarutobi Enjun's behavior alone would have been enough to make him refuse this troublesome squad. That boy was a hot-blooded burden waiting to happen.
Hiruzen, however, did not let the topic drift far.
"And the other two?" he asked. "Especially Uchiha Gen. Judging from the report, he truly is like you were when you were young—intelligent, rational, and extraordinarily gifted. I want your honest evaluation. Does he have the potential to become a bridge between the village and the Uchiha clan in the future?"
Orochimaru's expression shifted ever so slightly, the hint of a smile touching his mouth.
"Sarutobi-sensei, since you believe he resembles my younger self, then shouldn't I understand better than anyone how to guide him?"
The Third Hokage smiled faintly. "Then you believe he can be guided."
"When I was young, I was like a windmill. I needed the wind to move me." Orochimaru's voice was calm, but his golden eyes gleamed with unmistakable pride. "Now, I want to experience what it feels like to become the wind."
That was the confidence of a genius—cold, luminous, and utterly self-assured.
The truth was that Orochimaru had always possessed a rare talent for shaping others. He simply had never cared enough to reveal it. In the right circumstances, that gift could become frighteningly obvious. The students he would shape in the future would prove it again and again.
"Then I will wait and see," Hiruzen said.
He drew a thick stack of documents toward himself, his expression turning practical once more. "Still, the fact that they completed a C-rank mission does not mean they are ready to consistently handle missions at that level. They do not yet understand the full process of mission execution, much less how to handle danger properly. There are D-rank assignments every genin team must still complete."
"Yes," Orochimaru said lightly. "That does need to be added. But the first thing to add should not be a D-rank mission."
The Third Hokage lifted his brows. "Oh? Then what do you want?"
A thin smile appeared on Orochimaru's face. "Sarutobi-sensei, do you have any bells here? I'll need a few more than before."
***
On the first floor of the Hokage Building, in the administrative mission hall, Team Orochimaru waited quietly for their teacher to return after reporting the mission.
Gen sat on a stool with a scroll spread across his knees. Every now and then he lowered his head to reread a section, then picked up a pen and added a small mark to the margin. To anyone who looked over, it was just another young ninja studying diligently.
But for Gen, this was the most valuable kind of waiting time.
The scroll in his hand recorded Wind Release: Gale Palm.
Now that he had Orochimaru—a true master of ninjutsu—as his teacher, not making full use of that advantage would be a waste bordering on stupidity. In the past, the Uchiha clan school had focused mainly on Fire Release. His parents had left behind no Wind Release training materials, either. Only after seriously beginning to study Wind Release had Gen realized something surprising.
His talent in Wind Release seemed to be even stronger than his aptitude in Fire Release.
In only two or three days, despite being occupied with travel and missions, and despite having very little uninterrupted training time, he had already managed to produce a proper whirlwind with Gale Palm after only repeated short reviews.
That speed was much faster than when he had first learned the Great Fireball Technique.
For Gen, who had never trained in Wind Release before, that discovery was genuinely precious. His talent had always been decent but never monstrous. Much of what he had gained so far had come from the system, from careful planning, and from grinding out every inch with effort. So when real natural aptitude revealed itself, even he found it difficult not to feel a flicker of excitement.
He flipped the scroll down by one section and studied the notations again.
On a separate notebook page, he had already listed several points that had confused him during practice. Some were about the ratio of chakra shape transformation to output. Others concerned breath control, arm angle, and the subtle difference between simply blasting air outward and actually shaping a stable cutting current. They were the kind of issues that could waste days, even weeks, if no one pointed out the right direction.
But now he had Orochimaru.
A teacher like that was not a resource one could casually find twice.
Gen's pen moved again across the paper.
He knew perfectly well that this new teacher of his was dangerous. Orochimaru's future path, his ambitions, and the darkness in him were things Gen understood all too clearly. But danger and value were not mutually exclusive. Sometimes, in a world like this, the most dangerous things were also the most useful.
At least for now, Orochimaru standing in front of him as a mentor was a net benefit.
The stronger Gen became, the safer he would be. The more value he demonstrated, the more resources both the Hokage faction and the Uchiha clan would be willing to pour into him. And the better he learned how Orochimaru thought now, while the man still stood closer to Konoha than to open madness, the more prepared he would be for the future.
Across from him, Sarutobi Enjun sat with far less patience. The moment the tension of the mission had vanished, his restless energy had returned. One leg bounced. His hands fidgeted. Every so often he craned his neck toward the stairs as if hoping Orochimaru might reappear faster if he stared hard enough.
Uzuki Ruri, on the other hand, remained much quieter. She sat upright, composed and elegant, her posture neat, her eyes occasionally drifting to Gen's scroll and notebook. There was curiosity there, and perhaps a touch of surprise as well.
After all, they had only just returned from their first real mission, yet Gen was already back to studying ninjutsu like a man afraid that slowing down for even an hour might cost him something irreplaceable.
And perhaps he was right to be afraid.
The Second Shinobi World War had not ended. Peace was fragile, temporary, and soaked through with blood under the surface. Children who became genin today could be corpses tomorrow. In a world like this, talent mattered, bloodline mattered, luck mattered—but the ability to seize every scrap of time and turn it into strength mattered too.
Gen tapped the butt of the pen lightly against the notebook and lowered his eyes once more.
Questions first. Then answers from Orochimaru. Then training.
For now, that was enough.