Swish, swish! Swish!
Night fell like a heavy curtain. Rain pattered endlessly against rooftops, splashing into arcs before crashing down in fat, heavy droplets. The lanterns of Konoha flickered through the downpour, hazy and dreamlike—like a mirage floating in the mist.
Shadowy figures darted across rooftops like silent owls. They wore light, grey tactical vests, short blades or straight-edged swords strapped to their backs.
Many still carried the lingering scent of blood. Beneath their white masks, the solemn lines of their eyes were cold and expressionless—enough to make the villagers below avert their eyes and quicken their pace.
They crossed the bustling streets of the village, moving like ghosts until they reached the outskirts, where few dared to tread.
There, before a building marked with a large (Dark), they came to a halt.
This was the headquarters of the Konoha Anbu—the village's shadowy elite.
Every Anbu operative had been summoned on emergency orders. Despite the crowd, the atmosphere remained eerily orderly and silent, like mourners gathered before a funeral.
Among them stood Hatake Kakashi.
A fresh bandage wrapped around his forehead, his brows tightly furrowed. His dead-fish eyes reflected confusion.
Who placed those explosive tags? Was it Lord Third?
Kakashi hadn't seen the strange black cat. All he saw was Orochimaru bursting from underground, only to be blasted mid-air by tags hidden beneath his feet.
Kakashi had been close enough to be caught in the blast himself. Though he'd shielded with a jutsu in time, his arm was still torn apart by the terrifying force—yet nowhere near as badly as Orochimaru had been hit.
But—if Lord Third hadn't planted them…
Creaaak—
The doors to the Anbu building opened with a harsh screech, cutting through the silence.
Kakashi pushed aside his thoughts, slipped on his mask, and looked up.
Two figures emerged.
One was the familiar silhouette of Hiruzen Sarutobi, draped in the red-and-white Hokage robes and traditional hat.
The other was an elder clad in a black kimono, with bandages covering his right arm and eye. His thin eyes and scarred chin gave him a sallow, sinister air.
Shimura Danzo.
Founder and leader of Root, Konoha's true underbelly. Second only to the Hokage in power—at least on paper.
"This emergency gathering," Hiruzen stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the assembled Anbu, "is to immediately pursue and capture the escaped Orochimaru."
"Reports indicate he sustained serious injuries. Given the extent of his wounds, fleeing the Land of Fire won't be easy."
"Orochimaru's knowledge, intel, and techniques are invaluable to Konoha. If possible—bring him back alive."
"If he crosses the border… the consequences will be catastrophic."
He paused.
"Before that happens, we must race against time."
"Search thoroughly. Leave no stone unturned."
With no more words, Hiruzen raised his voice and barked, "Disperse!"
Swish! Swish!
The Anbu vanished into the rain like shadows in the night, unleashed to hunt the cunning serpent—no matter where he slithered: skies, rivers, or earth.
When the last operative was gone, Hiruzen turned to leave as well.
But just as he passed Danzo—
"You really do dote on your precious student."
A mocking tone slipped into Danzo's voice.
Hiruzen stopped. Lowering his head slightly, the shadow of his hat obscured his expression.
"To think someone like you could ever make a 'mistake,'" Danzo continued. "I heard you rescued a Hyuga child from Orochimaru's lab?"
Old friends for decades, Hiruzen naturally understood the meaning behind Danzo's words. He sighed inwardly, weary.
"Just a poor child," he replied. "A branch member of the Hyuga clan."
In other words: Give up that thought.
Whether or not Orochimaru had experimented on the boy, a Hyuga Branch member with the Caged Bird Seal could never be truly useful.
Otherwise, with the fire in Hyuga Unkawa's eyes and his unwavering will, Hiruzen might've taken him in—even if he was talentless, even if he were just an ordinary civilian.
He'd at least be given a post in the academy as a teacher.
But alas… he wasn't.
Branch members were slaves to the Main Family. Their brains could be destroyed with a mere thought from the clan head.
Even Danzo's own cursed tongue seal—meant to prevent leaking secrets—was mercy in comparison.
"…I see."
Danzo turned to face the dark horizon. His voice returned to its usual calm and distant tone.
"Regardless, I will do everything I can… for the sake of Konoha."
"Then I must thank you," Hiruzen replied flatly. "For your… concern."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the Anbu building.
Though Danzo's words dripped with sarcasm and insinuation—blaming Hiruzen for prioritizing personal ties over the village—Hiruzen didn't retaliate.
He knew Danzo well.
The moment Orochimaru turned traitor, Hiruzen had no doubt: Danzo would stop at nothing to eliminate him—even if they had once been allies.
In fact, the very explosion that crippled Orochimaru… might've been Danzo's doing, a secret trap laid without his knowledge.
That was why he turned a blind eye to Danzo's transgressions. Because in the end, Danzo still acted for the village.
Like that Hyuga boy had said—if Konoha was a great tree, then its unseen roots were necessary for growth.
But only if they remained… unseen.
After Hiruzen disappeared inside, Danzo finally opened his eyes.
Caw—!
A crow circled down, landing on his shoulder. It dropped a small scroll into his hand.
Danzo unrolled it in silence.
Inside were dense rows of Root-encrypted script—post-operation reports on Orochimaru's lab cleanup.
Nearly everything had been destroyed: equipment, notes, samples—all obliterated by the chain-reaction of explosive tags.
The entire underground base had been rigged to blow.
Many of those instruments had cost Danzo a fortune. Some weren't even available to Root itself.
"Was it Orochimaru?" he muttered. "Destroyed it all just to spite me?"
But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Orochimaru had been caught in the explosion, losing an arm. His modified body might recover, but with his chakra nearly depleted, there was no reason to stage such an elaborate self-sabotage.
And Hiruzen—soft and burdened by guilt—couldn't have done it either.
If anything, the old man probably thought he was the one who pulled the trigger behind the scenes.
"Then… who?"
Danzo's brows furrowed deeply.
He couldn't shake the feeling—someone had orchestrated this. Someone with precision. Someone in the shadows.
He thought of the only survivor: the Hyuga child.
But logic rejected the notion.
Such ruthless, flawless execution… manipulating both Orochimaru and Hiruzen?
No mere fifteen-year-old could pull that off.
Certainly not a Branch member, orphaned and spineless.
"Damn it. Who the hell is it?!"
Danzo crushed the scroll in his hand, teeth clenched in frustration.
He hated this feeling—knowing there was a threat lurking in the dark, beyond his reach.
Whoever it was… was more dangerous to Konoha than Orochimaru had ever been.
And Danzo—the Darkness of the Shinobi—would not allow such a threat to live.
Better to kill by mistake than to let danger fester.
His eyes narrowed.
He pulled out another scroll and quickly inscribed encrypted commands. The crow took it in its beak and soared into the night.
Just a Hyuga Branch 'failure.'
If he dies in an accident… no one will care.
Meanwhile, deep within a forest hundreds of kilometers from Konoha—
"Heh… heh…"
Orochimaru staggered and slumped against a tree, panting heavily. The sharp tang of iron filled his mouth—a metallic taste that could only come from blood. It bubbled up from his throat and burst in red spatters.
His left arm had been severed at the forearm, exposing a grisly mix of torn flesh and gleaming white bone. His once-impeccable cloak was now soaked in blood, dyed red down one entire side.
This… this was probably the worst injury he'd sustained since modifying his own body.
But of course, he'd anticipated the possibility of this day. He wasn't called a genius just for his good looks—he had contingencies in place across the Land of Fire.
One of them involved a certain obscure clan: the Iburi.
The Iburi possessed a unique kekkei genkai—Smoke Transformation—which allowed them to dissolve into smoke and infiltrate the bodies of others, taking control from within. A terrifying ability, if not for the glaring weakness: a mere gust of wind could disperse their smoke form, killing them instantly.
Because they couldn't control their power stably, many Iburi had perished in accidents. Orochimaru had helped them refine their abilities, prolonging their lives… in exchange for a little something: their blood.
You see, Iburi blood had healing properties. Which made them perfect candidates for emergency transfusions—living blood banks, so to speak.
Had it not been for that final explosion of explosive tags, Orochimaru could've made it to their village, even with just half his body functioning.
"Damn it! Damn it all! This is all because of that little brat!!" he rasped, voice filled with venom and frustration.
His hand clutched at his chest, confirming that the scroll was still tucked safely inside his robes.
Good. The ancient scroll containing forbidden secrets—possibly related to the Ōtsutsuki Clan—was still in his possession. Once he broke the seal on it, he might finally uncover more of their ancient knowledge.
He had also managed to retrieve a piece of flesh from an Ōtsutsuki corpse. If he could just refine his Edo Tensei (Summoning: Impure World Reincarnation) technique a bit further…
But right now, there was only one viable escape route left: he had to use Reverse Summoning through Manda.
The problem? That damn snake was as loyal as a cat in a bathtub. Injured or not, Manda's first instinct would probably be to swallow him whole.
And then there were the other terrifying denizens of Ryūchi Cave: the White Snake Sage and her three underlings—Tagitsuhime, Ichikishimahime, and Takarahime. Not exactly a welcoming committee.
"Kuh!"
A violent cough brought up another mouthful of blood, cutting his thoughts short.
His vision blurred, ears rang with a persistent buzz, and his sense of touch was beginning to malfunction.
The trees twisted before his eyes, their shadows morphing into claws. Vines seemed to turn into nooses. His body was crashing, every system failing one by one.
The looming shadow of death clawed at his mind, and in desperation, he dug his fingers deep into the bark of the tree behind him, crushing moss into a slimy, sickly green pulp.
He couldn't die.
Not here. Not yet. He still had to take revenge on that brat. Still had truths to uncover, powers to claim.
He refused to die a side character's death.
Just as he resolved to perform the summoning—
BOOM!
A puff of white smoke erupted, and Orochimaru vanished on the spot.
Moments later, a tall figure arrived, his white hair cascading down his back like a lion's mane.
Jiraiya.
He frowned, staring at the fading traces of smoke. "Reverse Summoning? Orochimaru… what the hell are you planning?"
—
Ryūchi Cave – Inner Chamber
In a chamber formed from a natural limestone cavern, stalactites hung like jagged fangs from the ceiling.
The stone floor was carved with serpent motifs, and flickering green ghost-flames lit the walls from eerie sconces. Amethyst-blue minerals gleamed dimly in the rock like a night sky buried underground.
Orochimaru slowly opened his eyes, his breath still ragged.
"This place…?"
His brows furrowed in disbelief. "Ryūchi Cave?"
But how? He hadn't even summoned Manda yet—how had he ended up here?
"Orochimaru."
A voice, ancient and hollow, echoed through the cave. He instinctively looked up.
There, coiled atop a throne-like slab of stone, loomed a monstrous serpent—The White Snake Sage.
Her true form: a colossal pale serpent, with scales that shimmered like frost and ancient, predatory eyes that radiated unfathomable power.
Normally, she took on the form of a wrinkled old lady in ceremonial robes. Not exactly intimidating… unless you looked past the grandma act.
But now, her illusion had dropped. Her true body exuded a stench of death and divinity.
"What… the hell?"
The White Snake Sage's amber pupils bore into him, unnervingly human-like in expression—surprise, suspicion, curiosity all rolled into one.
"Your fate… has been rewritten?"
—
Back in Konoha – Hyuga Compound
In a small, decrepit house at the outskirts of the Hyuga clan estate—
"Meow."
A soft meow slipped between the chirps of crickets in the night. On a futon inside, a young man stirred.
Hyuga Unkawa slowly opened his eyes.
"So… I finally made it."
He sat up on the bed, turning toward the window, gazing into the calm darkness of the village night. A small smile curled his lips as his hand reached for his neck.
Beneath the bandages, the wound that had almost ended his life was now barely a scab.
Just one day. That was all it took for this body to heal what should've been a fatal injury.
The regenerative ability wasn't quite at Hashirama-level broken, but it was enough to eliminate a ninja's greatest weakness: being a squishy meat sack in a kunai fight.
And that was just one of the benefits of this body.
He called up the status panel now hovering before his eyes.
[Name]: Hyuga Unkawa
[Age]: 15
[Bloodline]: Hyuga Clan → Ōtsutsuki Clan (5%)
[Chakra Capacity]: D-Class → S-Class
[Chakra Affinities]: Wind → Wind, Fire, Water, Earth, Lightning, Yin, Yang
[Ninjutsu]: …