Sage Art.
The moment Orochimaru mentioned it, a hush fell over the group. Many of the assembled Kekkei Genkai users froze at the words.
Bloodline limits were rare, yes—but they at least ran in families. Kekkei Genkai could be inherited, studied, even expected. But Sage Art… Sage Art was something else entirely.
In the past century, barely a handful of shinobi had managed to attain it.
While many bloodline users could rise to Jōnin, only the rarest of shinobi ever achieved the level needed to wield Sage Mode. Those who did stood firmly at—or above—Kage level.
"…Sage Art," Kimimaro muttered, watching Orochimaru manipulate both earth and bone with casual mastery. His expression remained calm, but his heart was heavy.
If Orochimaru could unleash this kind of destruction just by experimenting with Magnet Release… what kind of power would his Sage Mode hold in real battle?
If only I could learn it, Kimimaro thought. But that wish brought him no comfort.
Though recent events had gifted him stronger bones and temporary immunity from his bloodline disease, he could not accept the price—Kai's sacrifice.
No amount of new power could numb that.
And he understood now more than ever: raw strength alone wouldn't be enough.
Even if he trained for a decade and surpassed his clan, the mysterious enemy who had taken Bai wouldn't wait for him to catch up. That man—who appeared without warning and disappeared just as easily—was a threat that even Nagato and Orochimaru might not be able to track.
The Yuki clan leader had warned him bluntly: This enemy could destroy both of our clans without breaking a sweat. Do not gamble the safety of your people for revenge.
And so Kimimaro had made his decision. This wasn't a dilemma—it was a path.
He would encounter that enemy again. Not just because of fate, but because of a grim clue: one of his ancestors' remains had been turned into a powerful human puppet by the Red Sand Scorpion. And that same enemy had shown interest in Kimimaro's body as well.
Though the disease had been suppressed, he knew it hadn't been cured. The toxins in his bones were simply sealed, waiting to erupt.
Whatever the man's plan was, Kimimaro was part of it.
If I grow strong enough, he thought, we'll meet again. Whether I can defeat him or die with Kai… it doesn't matter.
He'd already pushed his Shikotsumyaku to the limit, surpassing even the current clan head. But it still wasn't fast enough.
If I had the talent to learn Sage Mode…
The thought was quickly brushed aside. No. That kind of aptitude wasn't something one simply had.
But then Orochimaru's voice cut through his thoughts, as if answering them directly.
"Sage Art may not be something you can promote casually," he said, holding lava in one palm and frozen mist in the other. "But that doesn't mean it's impossible."
He smiled. "It's just like these bloodline limits…"
To someone like Orochimaru, mastering a bloodline limit no longer offered any significant boost in power. Even something as rare as Dust Release wouldn't be enough to excite him now.
But if he could find a way to teach bloodline limits to ordinary ninja… the value would be immeasurable.
Back by the great lake, many Kekkei Genkai users had begun to understand what he was aiming for—and their expressions turned from awe to unease.
If Orochimaru succeeded, and bloodline limits could be taught to all… Konoha's strength would skyrocket.
And the others?
They might be left behind in a new kind of arms race—and vanish entirely.
This wasn't like Hashirama's era, where one man's power distorted the balance. Orochimaru didn't want to make himself stronger.
He wanted to make everyone stronger.
"Lord Orochimaru…" spoke Satoshi, a calm, wary ninja from Iwagakure. "Are you… trying to unify the ninja world?"
His tone was respectful but heavy with caution.
"If you are, there are far easier ways," he added bitterly. "With your power, you wouldn't need to go to all this trouble."
He was half-hoping Orochimaru would say yes. A tyrant could be predicted. But a man with no clear ambition—that was dangerous.
Orochimaru chuckled. "No. I'm not interested in unifying the world. Besides, your idea of what's 'troublesome' and mine are probably very different."
He released the ninjutsu in both hands and added, "But don't worry. I don't plan to keep these teachings just for Konoha. If Iwagakure wishes to learn, they're welcome."
The others stared, stunned. Even Troy, the Magnet Release ninja from Kumogakure, had to ask, "But why?"
Orochimaru's smile widened.
"Think about it. Why did Konoha stop fighting the Akatsuki? Because even if we lose… we can destroy the world."
He let the statement hang in the air, then asked, "Now imagine there were more shinobi like that. What do you think would happen?"
No one answered.
He did.
"Either the ninja world gets destroyed… or people start learning to talk."
A chill ran down everyone's spines.
Is this a joke? To risk the world just to teach people how to cooperate?
It felt ridiculous. Dangerous. Insane.
Still, Kimimaro asked quietly, "You said that was part of the reason. What else?"
"…It's hard to explain," Orochimaru said, rubbing his chin. Then he smiled. "Tell me: what can ninjas and Kekkei Genkai users do besides fight?"
The group blinked. For most, fighting was all they had ever known. That was what ninja were.
Only Momiji, the Crystal Release user, seemed to pause.
She had once considered crafting jewelry from her crystals—perhaps she could've made a better living than taking missions. Is that what he means?
Whatever Orochimaru's true goal was, no one could stop him. All they could do now was adapt.
"Oh, right…" he said suddenly. "The final match was interrupted."
He glanced at Darui, then at Kimimaro. A strange gleam crossed his eyes.
"But from what I saw, you would have won."
"Not me—" Kimimaro started, but Darui tried to speak first. Troy immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.
Are you stupid? he thought. Even if Orochimaru's wrong, do you really want to argue with him?
Kimimaro didn't care for the praise. He sensed something in Orochimaru's gaze that reminded him of that other man—the one who had taken Bai.
"You," Orochimaru said, his tone gentle but firm. "Come with me."
He offered no room for refusal. He briefly addressed the other Kekkei Genkai users with future plans, then led Kimimaro to a nearby stone building. They descended into its basement—walls lined with sealing scripts, thick with a foreboding aura.
"Even if this tournament was spontaneous, the champion still deserves a prize."
Orochimaru turned to him, golden eyes gleaming in the dark.
"Tell me, what do you want?"
Kimimaro hesitated. He knew it was a long shot—but he had to try.
"I want to learn Sage Art."
Orochimaru grinned.
"Oh, that's easy," he said. "Then from today, you'll learn from me."
Kimimaro frowned. "Don't I need… aptitude? Is that something I even have?"
"The so-called aptitude," Orochimaru replied, "isn't fixed. It depends heavily on the teacher's quality."
He gave a crooked smile. "With me guiding you? You've got enough."
Kimimaro was still skeptical. Why agree so easily?
"Enough talk. Let's test it."
Orochimaru's hand transformed into a white serpent and wrapped around Kimimaro arm—biting down hard.
"I'll infuse you with natural energy. Your job is to control it. Fuse it with your chakra. Try to form Sage Chakra."
Kimimaro tensed at the sudden pain but steadied himself.
"I'm ready."
"Good," Orochimaru said softly.
The serpent passed natural energy into his body. Orochimaru observed his reactions carefully—far more precisely than the White Snake Sage ever had. Kimimaro's face turned flushed, his blood pumping violently under the strain.
Then Orochimaru suddenly stopped.
The natural energy reversed course, flowing back into his body. He raised his hand, staring at Kimimaro in silence.
"Who tampered with your bones?"
Junmaro's eyes widened.
"…I don't know what you mean," he lied.
But Orochimaru saw right through him.
"Your expression. Your pulse. You're lying."
A golden flash passed through his eyes.
"So… there is another six paths-level entity out there. Who is he? When did you meet?"
He already had a guess.
Ōtsutsuki Isshiki… So the old toad's prophecy was real after all.
Thinking back, it all fit. His decision to gather Kekkei Genkai users through Nagato, the unusual development of Kimimaro's body, even the Djinn's suggestions…
Of course Isshiki would appear.
He had to.
And Orochimaru could already see the traces of his power eroding Kimimaro's body.
"I don't know anything," Kimimaro said coldly. "Kill me if you want."
"…Such loyalty," Orochimaru murmured. "But you're not his servant. If you were, you wouldn't be asking me to teach you Sage Art."
He tilted his head.
"It's strange. If that man touched your body… why haven't we sensed him all these years?"
The world was being watched. Not just by ninja, but by Kaguya's black phantom—Zetsu, forever scheming for her return.
Another Ōtsutsuki? That should've triggered every alarm.
But there had been nothing. No signs.
That meant one of two things: Isshiki had been quiet. Or he was cautious beyond belief.
Orochimaru leaned toward the latter—but it still didn't add up.
"Ah, whatever," he said at last, straightening up. "If you won't talk, I won't force you. I'm not interested in torturing tough bones with genjutsu."
Then he grinned.
"…Besides, I doubt all Kaguya clan bones are as hard as yours."
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