The Hokage's orders weren't classified. Even if they were, nearly a thousand people—nobles and merchants from other nations included—were caught in this event. Concealing it was impossible.
"It's… complicated to explain," Naruto said, scratching his head.
To explain, he'd need to start with the mysterious can seller.
But that man was an enigma.
A tangle of unknowns.
How could he even begin?
"Let me explain," a raspy voice cut through.
All eyes turned.
A man stood there, clad in a gray-white kimono, long hair framing a sinisterly delicate face, exuding a chilling aura.
More crucially, Naruto, Sasuke, and Neji's Membership Badges pulsed—this was a can opener.
"You… you're…" a Jōnin's eyes widened, stumbling back in fear.
"Orochimaru!" another shouted.
The name sparked chaos among the ninja.
One of Konoha's Sannin, an S-rank traitor.
Though years had passed, Orochimaru's infamy lingered. Recently, Tsunade and Jiraiya's return had stirred his name again.
"So, he's…" Naruto stared, wide-eyed. "The Pervy Sage's teammate?"
"Teammate?" Orochimaru's lips curled, amused. "That man still calls me that? Kid, that hair, that aura… Naruto?"
"How do you know my name?" Naruto gaped, shocked.
"Though I left Konoha long ago… I still keep tabs," Orochimaru said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. But his aura shifted, oozing a suffocating, desire-laced malice.
Naruto staggered back, overwhelmed by a wave of hostility, a cold dread like plunging from sunlight into an icy vault.
What was this guy?
"Hey," Sasuke stepped forward, gripping his longsword, blocking Naruto. "A traitor doesn't just stroll back for no reason. What's your game?"
Neji silently flanked Orochimaru, cutting off escape routes.
They weren't arrogant enough to think they could take a Sannin can opener, but they were stronger than the average Jōnin nearby.
Orochimaru's gaze slid to Sasuke.
That snake-like stare sent a shiver through him, cold as facing a corpse.
Sasuke's Sharingan flared to life.
"Intriguing," Orochimaru said, his smile widening at the crimson eyes. "The Nine-Tails and Uchiha blood—both rare and fascinating."
"The Nine-Tails… you're after the Jinchūriki?" a Jōnin shouted.
"You could say that," Orochimaru admitted casually, as if reclaiming lost property.
For him, only his grand ambitions—and "interesting things"—mattered now.
The tailed beasts' raw power and the Sharingan's mystical potential were prime targets.
He wanted to study them.
"No way we'll let a traitor touch our Jinchūriki! Protect Naruto!" the Jōnin barked, brandishing a kunai. In a flash, he struck from behind, aiming for Orochimaru's heart, hands ready to form seals.
Splurch.
The Jōnin froze.
The sound, the sensation, the sight—it was unmistakable.
He'd struck true, piercing the heart.
How?!
Certain it wasn't a Substitution Jutsu, the Jōnin—named Hiraki—reeled in confusion.
"Nice one!" a voice cheered.
"Hiraki, when'd you get so good?"
"An S-rank traitor, taken down that easily?"
The elite ninja saw it clearly: the kunai had pierced Orochimaru's heart.
Even the Hokage couldn't survive that.
"No! Stay sharp!" Sasuke shouted.
A pierced heart meant death? Too naive.
This was a can opener.
"Why…" Hiraki stammered, swallowing hard. "No blood?"
"Because… there is no blood," Orochimaru said, his grin like a horror movie's jump scare.
His hand clamped onto Hiraki's head.
In that instant, Hiraki's body locked up. Icy dread invaded his muscles and bones, though his surface showed no change.
He tried to cry for help.
No words came.
He could only stare, terrified, into Orochimaru's dead-snake eyes as his consciousness sank into eternal darkness.
He was gone.
The others finally sensed the danger.
"What did you do?!"
"Let Hiraki go!"
"Prepare to fight!"
Hundreds of ninja closed in, including over a dozen Jōnin. Even against Orochimaru, they felt no fear.
But horror unfolded.
Hiraki, in Orochimaru's grasp, began to rot visibly. His skin turned ashen, then blackened, decaying like an abandoned corpse, reeking of death.
"Ugh!" Naruto clapped a hand over his mouth, stomach churning.
What was this?
Even Sasuke and Neji paled.
"Damn you!" Hiraki's comrade, eyes red with fury, charged with a kunai.
Clang!
Metal clashed.
To everyone's shock, the attacker wasn't Orochimaru—it was Hiraki's corpse-like form. His grotesque face emitted guttural sounds, his bony arm wielding terrifying strength, parrying the Jōnin's strike with eerie precision.
"What… is this?" a ninja muttered, voice trembling.