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Midorima pulled the shuriken embedded in the rock and collected the undamaged ones, storing them away once more.
Although shuriken were disposable tools, it was still important to retrieve them during training.
As he turned around, he saw Kimimaro stepping onto the training ground. Slightly taken aback, he asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Orochimaru didn't give this training field to you alone. Why can't I be here?" Kimimaro retorted.
"Uh…"
Kimimaro wasn't wrong. Midorima could only explain, "You appeared without a sound. I was worried I might not notice you and accidentally hurt you."
"Tch, you think your half-baked skills could hurt me?" Kimimaro sneered.
Midorima didn't respond.
He understood Kimimaro's mindset.
Kimimaro worshipped Orochimaru to an almost fanatical degree—so much so that he wouldn't hesitate to give his life for him.
Midorima's presence had diverted Orochimaru's attention away from Kimimaro, which was why the latter held such hostility toward him.
Analyzing it this way made it seem like Midorima was some kind of third-party intruder.
But Kimimaro had forgotten one thing: Midorima hadn't chosen to stay in this godforsaken place. He had been captured by Orochimaru.
There was also another possibility—Kimimaro might resent him for being a ninja from Kirigakure, the village responsible for annihilating the Kaguya clan.
But Midorima swore to the heavens that he had played no part in that battle.
When Kirigakure and the Kaguya clan had clashed, he hadn't even graduated from the academy yet. He hadn't even been qualified to participate.
"Fine, let's just say my skills are half-baked then." Midorima knew Kimimaro despised him, but he really didn't want to pick a fight with him.
"Are you really playing dumb?" Kimimaro, seeing that Midorima was ignoring him, stepped in front of him. "Or are you deliberately avoiding me?"
"Why would I avoid you?"
"Because you're guilty. You know Orochimaru-sama values you, so you keep making outrageous demands—learning new jutsu, borrowing the training field! You're just biding your time, strengthening yourself so you can escape!" Kimimaro pointed accusingly at Midorima.
"Huh?"
Having his plan exposed so bluntly was admittedly awkward, though Midorima hadn't exactly been trying to hide it.
"But you forget, I have the 'Cursed Mark,'" Midorima explained.
"What good is that? There's still the seal restraining you," Kimimaro said coldly.
"Then there's nothing I can do…" Midorima shrugged. "I can't exactly crack open my skull to show you what I'm really thinking."
Kimimaro stared at Midorima, his gaze resolute. "Let's fight."
"Why?" Midorima was puzzled.
"To confirm my judgment."
Before Midorima could react, Kimimaro launched his attack.
Midorima had no desire to clash with Kimimaro. For one, he knew a little about him—he was somewhat like Haku, a tragic figure who had devoted himself entirely to someone he revered, only to die for them. But compared to Haku, Midorima felt more sympathy for the latter. Haku and Zabuza had only had each other, and unlike Orochimaru, Zabuza had at least provided Haku with a somehow stable environment. Moreover, after Haku's death, his body had been desecrated, stripped of even the dignity of a proper burial.
Still, all things considered, Kimimaro wasn't a bad person—as long as Orochimaru wasn't involved.
Secondly, due to his Kekkei Genkai, Kimimaro wouldn't live much longer, even without Gaara's interference.
Seeing Midorima's indifferent attitude only fueled Kimimaro's anger. He intensified his assault, but Midorima effortlessly deflected each strike.
By now, other children had begun gathering outside the training field, all dressed in white robes, their eyes fixed on Midorima and Kimimaro.
Both fighters far surpassed them in skill—one attacking with relentless ferocity, the other defending with impeccable precision. The battle was so evenly matched that the onlookers could only stare in awe.
Midorima noticed the children and glanced at them from the corner of his eye. They looked familiar, and after a moment's thought, it hit him—these kids, along with Kimimaro, were the future "Sound Five."
Another group of tragic figures, all destined to die even younger than Kimimaro.
"Are you looking down on me?!" Kimimaro growled, furious that Midorima was only defending.
"No!" Midorima denied. "I just haven't fought anyone in a while. I'm still adjusting to the rhythm."
This wasn't a lie. He really was readjusting.
It wasn't that his combat skills had dulled—rather, once the fight started, he realized his speed, strength, and even his chakra reserves seemed slightly enhanced.
Could prolonged rest actually increase chakra?
Midorima had never heard of such a thing.
Kimimaro's face flushed red. Suddenly, he leaped back and pulled a bone straight from his left shoulder.
The sight made Midorima wince in sympathy. No matter how fast Kimimaro's healing was, no matter how easily he could manipulate his bone density, the fact remained—these bones had to pierce through his flesh and skin.
"Why go this far?" Midorima asked, baffled. "You should be doing something more meaningful."
"I am doing something meaningful!" Kimimaro brandished the bone sword and charged. "I need to prove that I still have value to Orochimaru-sama!"
As Midorima watched Kimimaro's bloodthirsty expression, he finally understood.
Kimimaro revered Orochimaru unconditionally, and he took pride in being useful to him.
But ever since Midorima's arrival, Kimimaro had felt an inexplicable resentment toward him.
Maybe it was because Midorima was from Kirigakure. Maybe it was because Orochimaru had begun diverting some of his attention elsewhere. But the real reason Kimimaro despised Midorima might be something even he hadn't realized.
Fear.
Kimimaro had nothing except Orochimaru—no clan, no family. He was like an abandoned pet.
Orochimaru had given him purpose.
And now, doubt had taken root in his heart—anxiety sprouting like a seed. If he lost his worth, would Orochimaru discard him too?
So Kimimaro needed to prove himself.
Not to Orochimaru, but to himself—that he was still capable, still indispensable.
The Kimimaro of the future might have come to terms with this, but right now, he hadn't yet crossed that threshold.
"Shikotsumyaku: Tsubaki no Mai!"
A rapid series of slashes tore through the air, the sheer speed creating afterimages—multiple bone swords appearing to strike at once.
In the world of Naruto, weapon-based taijutsu was rare, and "Tsubaki no Mai" was one such technique.
Midorima leaped back, weaving hand signs as an earthen wall rose to block the attack. But the bone sword pierced straight through, grazing his cheek.
Looks like I need to end this quickly.
With that thought, Midorima finally launched his counterattack.