"Oh? Has it already come to this moment? I thought you would at least wait until the Nine-Tails falls into your hands before taking this step."
Orochimaru's gaze pierced like a serpent's, locking onto Saitama and making the latter involuntarily tense up.
Although Saitama had mentioned this matter long ago and he himself had been preparing countermeasures, ready to strike at any moment, the current timing was still much earlier than he had anticipated.
Then there was only one explanation—the collapse of their alliance had arrived far earlier than expected. Thus, they could do nothing but strike first to gain the upper hand.
Thinking thus, Orochimaru revealed an amused smile.
On the other side, Saitama met Orochimaru's icy stare without responding, meeting it head-on.
Once the Nine-Tails was secured, his usefulness as a disposable asset would end. In his previous life, Obito Uchiha had served as a perfect example of that fate. Therefore, before the great battle began, he needed to remove the means of control Madara Uchiha held over him, and then face everything with a better state of being.
Since he was fully aware of future events and his power was vastly stronger than the original Obito in the storyline, naturally he could easily avoid those obvious mistakes and achieve his goal quickly and conveniently.
"Well well, I understand. You indeed dislike keeping dangers close to yourself."
Meeting Saitama's gaze, Orochimaru crossed his arms over his chest. His right hand slowly reached toward the tomoe-shaped earring beneath his earlobe, giving it a slight flick before releasing an ambiguous chuckle.
"Do you have confidence?"
Saitama had heard from Orochimaru before that the talisman left on his body wasn't just a simple lethal Curse Talisman; rather, it was a series of interconnected seals meant for control.
This kind of Curse Talisman was particularly difficult to remove. Moreover, once action was taken, danger could descend upon them at some overlooked instant, resulting in death or even worse—being alive yet wishing for death.
Back then, surrounded and hunted by Danzo, he had chosen self-destruction as the only way to prevent the loss of his eyes.
Therefore, when he was rescued by White Zetsu and Madara, most of his body had already been destroyed, leaving him no choice but to replace large parts using Hashirama's cells and derivatives of the Ten-Tails.
According to Orochimaru's observation, deep inside these replaced parts lay hidden Curse Talismans all connected to the binding seals located near his heart.
As such, he himself couldn't remove these deeply embedded curses. The slightest attempt would cause immediate loss of mobility.
And once activated, those Curse Talismans could freely manipulate their victim.
Of course, this was exactly what Saitama refused to accept.
Although currently he remained free, at any unpredictable moment, he might be forcibly controlled, reduced to becoming a Puppet.
Confidence in one's strength was certainly a good thing, but who could say for sure when dealing with something so unstable?
Removing these threats early also meant liberating his combat abilities, allowing subsequent plans to proceed without constraints.
Already intending to go after Black Zetsu—the greatest invisible force—he decided the first step should involve freeing himself from bodily constraints.
"Let me try. But under these circumstances, you'll need to stay around here for the time being."
Orochimaru had already studied what Saitama provided, so he felt confident and spoke casually, as if it were just a minor matter.
At the same time, he also advised Saitama to prepare mentally, because once they started, even for him, it would take considerable time—it was a delicate operation.
His plan was to use the Hashirama's cells he cultivated to replace the limbs to be removed from Saitama, seamlessly replacing what would be taken away.
Of course, this method was far superior to directly replacing the limbs, and the subsequent recovery period would also be significantly shorter.
However, naturally, this process wasn't something as simple as swapping things out on the spot; therefore, exactly how long it would take was quite uncertain.
Besides, even though they were all Hashirama's cells,
Saitama would still need time to adapt—they weren't like an eye transplant that worked immediately.
"No problem."
Without hesitation, Saitama replied seriously.
This step was inevitable anyway—there was no reason to hesitate.
He had always engaged in such dangerous endeavors.
"Alright then, follow me."
Orochimaru nodded slightly, unsurprised by Saitama's response, then turned and walked away in another direction.
Everything had already been specially prepared for Saitama. As long as nothing unexpected occurred during the procedure, removing the cursed seals within him shouldn't pose any issues.
Soon, his figure vanished from Saitama's sight, disappearing into the dim darkness.
Saitama remained in place for a while, adjusting his breathing several times before slowly walking after him.
Since Orochimaru was an authority in this field, maybe it would be simple?
That's what he thought.
Perhaps because this step was crucial, a slight unease stirred within him.
...
Amegakure Village.
Fine raindrops wove into a Water Curtain, covering the entire village, wrapping everything in silence and damp cold.
It was a stark contrast to the village's usual lifeless order.
Recently, a grim and heavy aura had filled the village.
Everyone understood the reason behind this transformation.
At least most of Amegakure's original residents carried a hint of anticipation toward this change.
Perhaps those older generations who had experienced war felt the current situation of the village was extremely severe—like performing ballet on Wire Strings.
But for the younger generation, this was the long-awaited moment—the turning point for everything.
They would either perish in silence or rise in defiance.
The true transformation of Amegakure began when Akatsuki stepped in.
Yet whether such a revolutionary action could sweep across the entire Shinobi World remained unknown.
Regardless of any reforms, it was time for all the suppressed feelings in Amegakure to finally erupt.
For many years, under oppression, but past leadership always insisted: "We cannot resist—resistance will only bring greater harm and oppression, as history describes."
Thus, Amegakure kept being molded by others, shaped into whatever form they desired.
But did those oppressed by major nations really care about the sacrifices along the path of resistance?
They simply wanted to tell others that they were no longer willing to play the role of the oppressed, and that they too had passion in their blood.
Attitude is a very important thing.
Many great endeavors begin not with power or resources—but with a single mindset.
Nagato stood atop Akatsuki Tower, where fine raindrops curved past his body before continuing their fall downward.
The wind at high altitude caused his hair to constantly flutter, while his coat flapped loudly in the breeze.
With this appearance and a cold, indifferent aura, he truly gave off a vague impression of a 'god'.
Looking down below, figures passed by with expressions ranging from excitement to tension or fear.
As many people as there are, so many different emotions exist.
All of this was clearly observed by the Rinnegan.
That's why Nagato couldn't decide whether it was right or wrong to drag Amegakure into this war.
In truth, he felt that this village, which had been suffering for years caught between powerful nations, didn't need to get involved in the cruel conflict ahead.
They only needed to wait until everything ended, then come share in the new order he would create.
Why cause even more pain to a land already filled with suffering?
Even if such pain had long become commonplace.
Nagato could deeply empathize with the people of Amegakure.
Yet not long ago, something one of Amegakure's representatives said had touched his heart.
"Perhaps we are weak. Perhaps our might is a joke when faced with our enemies. But our determination is absolute. From the perspective of nations suffering losses due to Akatsuki's actions, we are evil. But from Amegakure's viewpoint, everything Akatsuki does is exactly what we've always wanted to do but have been unable to. Therefore, standing together with Akatsuki against the entire world is currently the only action Amegakure can take!"
"This is something we absolutely must do!"
This Rain Ninja who spoke those words was one of the original members who joined Akatsuki at its founding. Although after Akatsuki completely controlled Amegakure, he left Akatsuki and entered the village leadership.
But clearly, he hadn't forgotten Akatsuki's original cause.
"If we still fail even after everything, then I have nothing more to say. Is the shinobi world really bound by unchangeable laws, as Hanzo claimed back then? Then let me see whether this 'law' applies to me as well."
Nagato gazed at the horizon, his expression hardening. The cold stare of his Rinnegan gave him an untouchable aura.
A sudden whoosh—
He glanced sideways.
Rustle rustle rustle—
A large number of paper scraps gathered together, finally forming the figure of Konan.
The paper scraps were soaked through by the rain, making them look heavy.
And the Konan made from those papers had faint flaws—you could spot the layered sheets if you looked closely, giving her an eerie presence.
"So you're here."
Konan landed beside Nagato and spoke softly.
She'd searched everywhere for him, growing worried, never imagining she'd find him on the tower roof 'enjoying the rain and fresh air.'
"My mood was fluctuating, so I came here to watch the rain."
Without turning around, Nagato looked straight ahead, his tone carrying a hint of recollection.
"Do you remember the day we first met?"
He paused for a moment, then continued speaking.
"I naturally remember. Back then it was also raining, and you were hiding alone inside a cave with only a small puppy by your side."
Konan's voice feigned casualness while her eyes continuously flickered over Nagato's form, an involuntary smile appearing on her face.
Back then, they were all young. Life was rough, but somehow, they still managed to find joy.
"Yeah, it was constantly raining back then. And now, it's raining again."
Nagato sighed wistfully before stretching his hand out from the invisible barrier surrounding his body, using his palm to catch some of the falling rainwater.
He remembered clearly—he'd been hiding in that cave with the same little dog, both of them close to starving.
Then he lazily counted the raindrops trickling from the cave's ceiling, sometimes catching one in his palm just to feel its coolness.
At the time, his biggest question was: why does this country always rain? Why doesn't anyone have a home?
But now is completely different from those days.
Back then, order was collapsing, and the nation cried under invasions from multiple factions.
Now however, the order of his dream was being gradually constructed exactly as he envisioned—and because of Akatsuki, the world itself had begun panicking, desperately resisting.
"We will succeed, Yahiko, and this nation will witness true peace. That day isn't far away!"
Nagato slowly turned around, staring at his close companion, a confident smile creeping across his pale face.
"I believe it. And I look forward to it!"
Konan's eyes slightly shimmered, her lips curling upward.
So what if it's raining? Big deal.
...
His whole body burned with intense heat, yet it didn't feel like it was even his own. Like watching someone else suffer through his eyes.
Moreover, the sensation hadn't arrived suddenly or intensely.
Instead, it felt like a frog slowly boiling in warming water.
Initially, that heat had felt like standing beneath warm sunshine—gentle and soothing.
Yet now, it burned like being held directly over flames, every cell and soul wrapped tightly in fire.
It wasn't fatal, but extremely hard to endure.
Shua—
Saitama opened his eyes. Before him was a grayish-yellow ceiling, engraved with various simple patterns—the most noticeable among them snake-like motifs.
"Ah, you're awake? Surgery went well."
A hoarse voice came from nearby, immediately resonating through his body.
Yet for some reason, the voice seemed to carry its own echo, endlessly reverberating within his mind, making him feel dizzy and highly uncomfortable.
He knew this wasn't the speaker's intention—it was just his body's natural response.
"This is normal at first. Takes time to get used to a new body. But since you've already adjusted to Hashirama's cells before, you'll bounce back fast."
Saitama stayed quiet. Orochimaru was right—he could feel his limbs again, but moving them still felt like walking in someone else's shoes.
He'd felt this before.
The difference lay in this: compared to the lengthy adaptation period needed the first time, this process now seemed significantly shortened.
Within just a few minutes, he pushed himself up slowly with both hands, his movements still a bit stiff.
Although Orochimaru was confident about removing the cursed seals inside him, the process still involved great risks.
Without the power of the Mangekyou granting him chances to make mistakes and corrections, it would be nearly impossible to achieve such perfect results.
Feeling his body's condition, Saitama realized that after eliminating the hidden dangers, his entire being felt lighter—like a bird freed from its restraints.
"Thank you."
Saitama turned his body slightly, letting both legs dangle off the edge of the operating table. Supporting himself with his arms, he faced Orochimaru who stood wearing a white lab coat.
"I got what I needed, and you obtained what you wanted as well; this is definitely a mutually beneficial cooperation."
Though Orochimaru was quite eccentric and abnormal in personality, there were certain principles he always adhered strictly to.
That's why Saitama never doubted that Orochimaru wouldn't pull any sneaky moves against him.
If he lacked even this minimal level of trust, he wouldn't have engaged in so many close collaborations with the other man.
"For these two days, stay here and rest first. Kimimaro will look after you. Unless urgent, don't bother seeking me out."
Orochimaru said while heading toward the exit, suddenly turning back near the door to speak to Saitama.
After resolving Saitama's issue, he felt it was time to deal with some matters concerning himself and thus didn't intend to linger around.
Moreover, those "Impure World Legion" and "Clone Legion" created specifically for assisting Saitama also required gradual organization and preparation, which would inevitably consume much of his time.
It might have seemed like Orochimaru had only been helping Saitama all along, but he got plenty out of the deal too—just not the kind of things most people paid attention to.
For someone like him, the concepts of equivalence often appeared unusually different.
Whatever interested him—perhaps even just a single flower—he might sacrifice greatly for it.
In short, he was simply an unpredictable and capricious existence, so Saitama never felt he took excessive advantage of the other party.
Value is relative; one man's meat is another man's poison.
"Hehe."
With Orochimaru vanishing from sight, Saitama glanced around the room before lying back down, staring at the ceiling above.
He wasn't resting—instead, he was checking his body's condition from within.
Chakra flowed smoothly through his meridians. The compatibility of Hashirama's cells with his own body remained as strong as ever. He could clearly feel his chakra production speed and robust vitality—both actually enhanced compared to previously.
His heartbeat was strong and full of energy, and that lingering sense of restraint had completely vanished.
Indeed, only when completely freed from all constraints could he reach his peak state.
Getting rid of all obstacles before the final battle was the best way to bring out his full strength.
As time passed, he gradually regained control over his limbs. Although a slight discomfort lingered initially, with increased movement frequency, that familiar sensation was slowly returning.
Unknown how much time had elapsed—likely half a day or more—when suddenly the door was pushed open.
Although the room was filled with equipment, there was still plenty of space for him to move freely.
So when the door swung open, Saitama was in the middle of doing push-ups using just one hand, his body rising and falling rhythmically.
"Lord Saitama!"
Kimimaro's voice rang firm and clear. Holding a large tray, he stood just inside the doorway, watching the still-exercising Saitama.
He felt slightly confused.
Didn't Lord Orochimaru say this person had just finished surgery and was resting?
Seemed like everything was fine.
"Bringing me food? Put it on that table over there. Thanks, Kimimaro."
Saitama paused briefly at the sound of the other's entrance, then resumed his previous pace immediately.
Sweat dripped off his skin and soaked a patch on the floor—but his voice stayed calm and even, not the least bit out of breath.
These exercises were helping him regain control of his body.
And with the experience from the first recovery, this second one posed no problem anymore.
Besides, this time they didn't completely replace everything. Orochimaru cleared the internal cursed seals as needed and selectively replaced parts.
Therefore, many things remained exactly as before.
Although due to the newly transplanted cells, the strength was still slightly weak, with constant chakra stimulation, they kept growing stronger and more durable, gradually integrating with other parts of his body.
"Then I'll leave it here. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything. I'm in the room next door."
Following Saitama's instructions, Kimimaro placed the tray down, then turned to leave.
From the looks of it, Lord Saitama absolutely didn't require any assistance—the recovery was going smoothly.
Creak—
The door closed shut. Saitama continued with his rehabilitation training.
Last time, it had taken him several months or even half a year to fully regain control of his body. This time, however, basic mobility returned within merely half a day.
He kept training. A while later, he stopped and headed to the table to eat.
Judging by his recovery speed, he should be able to leave here tomorrow—a result even he hadn't anticipated.
After flexing his fingers a few times, Saitama looked at the lunchbox, frowning slightly.
Eggs again? Figures—snakes and eggs go hand in hand.
A realization hit him. Saitama didn't hesitate—he picked up the spoon and started eating the steamed egg.
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