Drip... drip...
The sound of water echoed through the arched underground chamber, layered and resonant. A mournful wind howled from some unknown crevice, carrying with it the damp stench of mold, mingled with the acrid scent of rusted metal and decay.
A pitch-black cat crouched silently in the shadows, its paws playing lazily with several half-dead white snakes.
Whenever a snake stopped moving, the cat would loosen its paw, allowing the serpents to squirm and writhe—only to be pinned down again by a padded foot, revealing a disturbing sense of amusement in its game.
But then, as if sensing something, the black cat lifted its head.
Only then was its face fully revealed.
This feline, entirely covered in sleek black fur, had one black eye and one eye pure white.
To the average observer, it would appear to be a one-eyed stray. But none could have imagined that the white eye was none other than a Byakugan—the prized dōjutsu coveted by all four of the major shinobi villages.
It was common knowledge that the Kirigakure jonin "Ao" had earned the title "White-Eyed Assassin" after acquiring just one Byakugan—and for that, was placed on Konoha's highest-priority bounty list.
No one would ever suspect that someone had the madness to implant such a priceless eye… into a cat.
And yet, someone had done exactly that.
The black cat picked up the limp white snake in its mouth and, in a blur of motion, leapt into the crisscrossing pipes above. Its movement was so silent and smooth, it might as well have been gliding on clouds.
Perched in a bend in the drainage pipe, its white pupil dilated slightly while the black one narrowed into a razor-thin slit, locking onto the still water far below.
The murky sewage, deep enough to reach a grown man's knees, reflected an oily sheen, mirroring the rust-coated maze of pipes above.
Plap… plap…
Moments later, the surface of the water rippled.
Three swift black figures raced across the water's surface, their forms distorted into eerie shapes by the shimmering ripples.
Hiruzen Sarutobi and two ANBU had expended considerable effort to get here—dodging dozens of traps and decoys left by Orochimaru before finally navigating their way through the convoluted underground labyrinth.
Only snakes and rats would take comfort in such a damp, gloomy place.
And Orochimaru… he was clearly growing more like a serpent by the day.
"…"
Hiruzen abruptly halted, his gaze falling upon a large, rust-covered iron door up ahead. His expression darkened as he raised his hand, signaling the ANBU to advance.
BOOM!!
With a heavy, echoing crash, the iron door was blasted open. A nauseating stench rushed out—an unbearable mix of rot, disinfectant, and the sweet, sickly scent of decaying flesh—carried on a wave of icy air.
Dim yellow lights cast flickering shadows through the corridor, but what met their eyes made Hiruzen's pupils contract sharply.
The laboratory walls were mottled with dark-red bloodstains, creating a grotesque abstract painting. The bulb dangling from the cracked ceiling flickered erratically from the shock of the explosion.
The floor was coated in layer upon layer of blackish-brown gunk—residue of some unspeakable sin, scrubbed repeatedly yet still etched into the very foundation.
The two ANBU beside Hiruzen gasped audibly, their breaths becoming sharp and unsteady. Their eyes were locked on a row of cylindrical glass chambers within the lab.
Each tank was filled with pale green fluid, and within each floated a curled, humanoid figure. Their skin had become waxy and semi-translucent from prolonged immersion. Muscles were exposed and riddled with stitch-like sutures, crawling with what looked like parasitic worms.
Some torsos were split open, revealing hearts still beating, while snake-like organs coiled within their abdomens. Thick cables extended from these internals, like jellyfish tendrils stretching outside the tank.
And there were many such test subjects. Numbers like "32," "42," and "65" were etched in red on the tanks.
Around them, steel racks were stacked with jars containing biological organs at various stages of development—each twitching grotesquely in its fluid as if still alive.
"This is…" One ANBU's pupils quivered beneath his mask.
To be honest, as horrifying as the sight was, Hiruzen wasn't entirely unprepared.
After all, Orochimaru had first begun experimenting on humans with the tacit approval of Konoha's highest ranks—including Hiruzen himself. His initial research into transplanting Hashirama's cells had been sanctioned, under the belief that it could revive the Wood Release.
Yes, the test subjects had all "volunteered." Yes, the goal had been noble.
But even so, it proved one thing:
Hiruzen Sarutobi was no bleeding heart.
The world wasn't black and white. It was a meticulous, shifting shade of gray.
Even now, looking upon this abomination, Hiruzen still held some sliver of regret and guilt toward his former student.
Until…
He saw the two overlapping silhouettes deep in the lab.
Because Orochimaru stood with his back to the door, it was the child's face on the operating table that Hiruzen saw first.
A young, innocent face—cut open at the throat.
Gone was the smile that once lit his features. In its place was sheer terror, tears trailing down his cheeks.
His eyes widened at the sight of Hiruzen. He lifted a trembling hand, opened his mouth—
—but no sound came out.
And yet, Hiruzen knew exactly what the boy was trying to say.
"…Grandpa Third…"
Then Orochimaru turned.
The bright, clinical light shone coldly on his pale face, making the blood that drenched him appear even more grotesque. His wicked sneer, his feral eyes—it was a vision of unfiltered malice.
Blood gushed from the headless corpse at his feet, painting the room in crimson.
The scene was pure hell—a masterpiece of horror, brutality, and madness.
And it hit Hiruzen harder than anything else in that room.
Because he knew that child.
He remembered him vividly.
As the honorary head of the Ninja Academy, Hiruzen often took time to visit classes—sharing lectures on Konoha's "Will of Fire," playing the role of the benevolent elder statesman.
One time, he had chosen the class of Hyūga Unkawa.
During his speech, he had noticed the boy's face—glowing with admiration and awe.
Later, as always, the teachers had asked the children to write reflections on the lesson.
Hiruzen rarely had time to read such things.
But by chance, he remembered that face. That look of pure devotion.
So he retrieved Unkawa's essay, already gathering dust.
And froze.
"My family is like a great tree—its roots deep and leaves vast."
"Grandpa Third is the trunk."
"Sometimes guiding from within, sometimes nourishing from beneath."
"Father is the branches and leaves—sheltering from wind and cold."
"Though they are old and feeble, though riddled with decay, they anchor deep into the earth to protect the fruits and family above."
"We are the fruits."
"Our birth brings joy to the family. We drink sweet nutrients and enjoy protection from the storm."
"But we forget—who feeds us, who shields us from the wind."
"I was too high above it all."
"Maybe, when I fall—chewed and discarded to the earth—"
"I'll take root and finally understand."
Hiruzen had grown weary of sycophants and blind adoration.
But this—this wasn't empty praise. It was childlike simplicity, fused with depth and sincerity. It resonated perfectly with the "Will of Fire," and subtly acknowledged the tensions between clans and the village.
Especially those final lines—they had pierced his heart like a kunai.
Yes. The clans always taught their children to serve clan interests.
But never to think of themselves as part of Konoha.
They only saw the sheltering "branches," never the trunk that held the tree together—the one who bore the weight of it all.
Undoubtedly, Unkawa was a rare child—one who had broken free from the limitations of clan loyalty, who saw the bigger picture, who had inherited the true Will of Fire.
If anyone had dared claim Unkawa was a "bad child," Hiruzen would've summoned Enma on the spot and smashed their brains out.
But now—
Now that child… was gone.
As Unkawa's tiny body slumped lifelessly on the operating table, all of Hiruzen's complicated feelings toward Orochimaru faded.
Anger, sharp and searing, surged to the surface. Veins bulged across his aged face.
"Orochimaru!" he roared, eyes burning. "What have you done?!"
"What the hell have you done?!"
Seeing Hiruzen truly enraged, Orochimaru suddenly panicked.
This wasn't the hesitant, soft-hearted teacher he knew.
He had always believed that even if his human experiments were exposed, Hiruzen wouldn't raise a hand against him. There was still a chance to escape the village.
But now—
Before he could even think to connect it to Unkawa—
Hiruzen's hands were already forming seals.
Boar – Dog – Rooster – Monkey – Sheep!
Summoning Jutsu!
Poof!
With a blast of white smoke, a hulking monkey wearing a fur-lined coat and a Leaf Village headband appeared beside Hiruzen Sarutobi.
"Trouble again, Hiruzen?" the monkey asked out of habit. But the moment he raised his eyes and saw Orochimaru, he paused. "Wait a second..."
"Enma!" Hiruzen barked, cutting off his companion's train of thought.
Another puff of smoke exploded—poof!—and Enma transformed into a staff as thick as a tree trunk.
He started with Enma?!
Orochimaru's face darkened immediately. He didn't even have time to question why the old man was so furious today—or why his own white snake hadn't given any warning.
Any more hesitation and he might actually die here.
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
Whooooom!
A shrieking gust laced with fine wind blades erupted from Orochimaru's mouth, rippling the air with sheer pressure. Bottles, scrolls, and jars around the lab shattered and flew like shrapnel, obscuring the vision of the two nearby ANBU.
Even now, Orochimaru still had the presence of mind to try and snatch Unkawa.
But Hiruzen didn't even glance his way. His staff suddenly extended—BOOM!—and came crashing down toward Orochimaru.
Thud!
Already drained from an organ transplant operation, Orochimaru, in the midst of reaching for Unkawa, was smacked midair by the blow. He spat out a mouthful of blood so thick with organ chunks it looked more like soup than spit.
"Damn it! Damn it all!!"
Fury twisted his face as he saw Hiruzen teleport to Unkawa's side in a flash, his expression unreadable.
Orochimaru clenched his teeth. He had no choice now—he couldn't take Unkawa with him.
Realizing this, his rage subsided, replaced by icy calculation.
"Earth Style: Hiding Like a Mole!"
Using the momentum from his flight, Orochimaru formed hand seals even as he flipped midair. His feet touched the ceiling—if it could still be called that—and instantly, the stone beneath him turned to sludge. He dove into it like a fish into water, vanishing underground.
"Lord Third!"
The two ANBU stepped forward, looking toward the Third Hokage, who stood unmoving, face expressionless.
Hiruzen withdrew his gaze from the ceiling. The fury in his chest cooled slightly. He turned to Unkawa, lying limp at his feet.
"Get this boy to the hospital. Do whatever it takes to keep him alive."
"Yes, sir!" The ANBU didn't ask questions. They nodded, picked up the unconscious Unkawa, and vanished.
Meanwhile, deep underground, Orochimaru tunneled upward at a desperate pace. His face had turned pale as a corpse.
Forget fighting Sarutobi—he'd barely survived that last hit. Even at his peak, taking on the Third Hokage head-on was suicide.
Right now, survival was all that mattered.
Unkawa would have to stay in Konoha… for now. As long as the boy remained alive—and silent—there would be chances later.
Still, the whole thing left a bitter taste in his mouth.
How had this gone so wrong?
That damn brat… it all started with him.
Could this all really have been orchestrated by that kid?
Three years of scheming, trapping even Sarutobi in the net… everything today, planned?
He's only fifteen. What kind of monster is he?!
Orochimaru's thoughts spiraled as he finally burst from the surface—only to be met by a looming figure.
ANBU mask. Silver hair. A short sword across the back.
Kakashi Hatake.
"Lightning Blade!"
No banter. No monologue. Kakashi charged, palm crackling with electricity.
Orochimaru couldn't help but laugh, despite himself.
These kids really think they can kill me?
Just as he raised his hand to retaliate—
Zzzzt!
A faint sound tickled his ears. Orochimaru's eyes snapped downward.
A black cat darted past his feet, pausing just long enough to shoot him a look.
On its feline face was—undeniably—mockery.
And the worst part?
"Byakugan?!"
He saw it. That single white eye.
Orochimaru's slit pupils shrank in alarm.
Before he could even process it—
BOOM!!!
A chain of explosive tags detonated all at once, roaring through the cavernous lab. The force collapsed the ground in waves like a sinkhole eating itself alive.
Flesh and debris flew like confetti, painting the night with gore and fire.
Far away, on the other side of the woods, the two ANBU carrying Unkawa paused mid-leap as the shockwave reached them.
"Was that Lord Third…?" one of them muttered, heart pounding.
Neither noticed the faintest curve of a smile on Hyūga Unkawa's face.
'Still went easy on him, huh? he mused silently. Well, I hope Orochimaru enjoys my parting gift.'
He never truly expected Sarutobi's wrath to be lethal. Not with decades of master-disciple bonds in the way. Once the old man cooled off, regret would probably follow.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was clearing his own name.
Whether Orochimaru lived or died was beside the point.
Besides… such a useful pawn was hard to come by.
It'd be a waste if he died before Unkawa squeezed out every drop.
He glanced skyward.
It was just past 5 a.m. The first traces of dawn were painting the horizon.
The sun is always both sunrise and sunset, he thought, eyes half-lidded. It dies in one sky, only to be reborn in another.
"Next… it's time for the Tenseigan." Unkawa closed his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Hyūga clan… caged birds, all of you.
"Feign weakness to strike with strength. Hide strength to lure the fool. From today onward—"
"—the game changes."