Seeing that everyone was starting to realize the implications, Orochimaru didn't mind increasing the pressure.
After all, it was the same in his experiments. If a subject couldn't withstand the strain, it simply meant their willpower was inadequate.
"I won't go into detail about taijutsu—you're all familiar with it," he said, fingers tapping rhythmically against the table.
"The Eight Gates technique is powerful, yes, but the side effects are far too severe."
"Once the Eighth Gate is opened, death is guaranteed. The purpose of the Ninjutsu Academy is to optimize techniques like this—reduce their side effects, lessen their risks."
Many in the room lowered their heads slightly in guilt, ashamed of their earlier shallow judgments.
Indeed, what use is a powerful forbidden jutsu if it comes at the cost of one's life?
Orochimaru's voice remained steady as his fingers continued tapping against the table.
"Another goal of our Ninjutsu Academy is to lower the entry threshold for forbidden techniques."
"Take the Flying Thunder God Technique as an example. Yes, it's powerful. The side effects are minimal. But if I handed you the scroll right now, could you learn it?"
"Since the founding of Konoha, countless Jonin have attempted to master it. Alongside the Shadow Clone Jutsu, it's one of the only two high-level techniques allowed for widespread study. But only two people have ever succeeded: the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju, and the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze."
At the far end of the table, Shiranui Genma couldn't help but raise his head, lost in memory.
He had once followed that man—the Golden Flash of Konoha.
Minato Namikaze. A streak of light across the battlefield, the Fourth Hokage. In his youth, they called him the "Little Sun" of Konoha. But once he mastered the Flying Thunder God Technique, that bright sun transformed into something far deadlier.
Hence, the name: Konoha's Yellow Flash.
How strong was he?
Ask the shinobi of the Third Great Ninja War. Ask the veterans of the Hidden Cloud and Hidden Stone Villages—if they're still alive.
Minato had haunted their nightmares.
One man. One battlefield. One pouch of Flying Thunder God-marked kunai.
As long as he had chakra, he could dominate everything. That was Minato Namikaze.
A rumor had even circulated at the time:
"If you see signs of the Yellow Flash on your mission, abandon it immediately. The village won't pursue the matter."
Of course not. Why would they punish a dead man?
Most never even saw him coming.
Speed is power. And you can't defend against a flash.
Tobirama Senju's Flying Thunder God Technique was already formidable—but too difficult to learn.
Then came Minato Namikaze. He restructured the jutsu, merging it with summoning and sealing techniques. Increased flexibility, improved practicality... but also heightened the difficulty to near-impossible levels.
When Minato passed it on to his escort team, the trio had to divide the workload: one specialized in spatial sensing, another in spiritual inscription, and the third in sealing.
It had taken the three of them an enormous amount of time to pull it off together.
And Minato?
He just smiled, scratched his head, and said, "Is it really that hard? Didn't I already streamline the theory?"
That's the difference between genius and the rest.
That's the difference between a shinobi genius and ordinary ninja.
Seeing that the clan heads had finally grasped the significance of the Ninjutsu Academy, Orochimaru decided to bring his presentation to a close.
But just then, Uchiha Hikaru caught his eye and subtly winked.
A question mark formed in Orochimaru's mind.
What's that supposed to mean?
Uchiha Hikaru rubbed his thumb, index, and middle fingers together with a sly grin.
Orochimaru instantly understood.
His gaze shifted toward the clan leaders—his expression turning sharper, more snake-like.
A shiver ran down the spines of many in the room.
To Orochimaru, these greedy, short-sighted clan leaders suddenly looked... endearing.
Living, breathing research grants.
Danzo had once been fooled into bankrolling his work. Now, with a little extra manipulation, Orochimaru wouldn't have to worry about funding for a long, long time.
His gaze locked onto one man in particular—Hyuga Hiashi.
Hiashi's scalp tingled. The normally composed patriarch of the Hyuga Clan suddenly felt cornered.
"Orochimaru," Hiashi said, narrowing his eyes, "what is it?"
Orochimaru's lips curled into a wicked smile—equal parts confidence, arrogance, and the mysterious aura of a man who had read the secrets of another world.
Even if he only understood a fragment of that knowledge, it was more than enough for him.
"Patriarch Hiashi, I'm sure the recent unrest within the Hyuga Clan regarding the Caged Bird Seal is weighing on your mind."
"There's always been friction within your clan, hasn't there?"
Hiashi's expression darkened instantly. Displeasure showed clearly on his face.
"Orochimaru, this is an internal matter of the Hyuga Clan. The village has no right to interfere in the affairs of a clan."
But Orochimaru only shook his head, voice low and gravelly with temptation.
"Patriarch Hiashi, what if I told you... I could restrict the Caged Bird Seal to only affect the Byakugan?"
"What if I could remove its control function altogether—transform it into a one-time-use protective seal, rather than a tool of oppression?"
!!!
Hiashi bolted to his feet, bowed deeply—ninety degrees—and spoke without hesitation.
"Lord Orochimaru, please forgive my earlier tone. I wasn't aware of the situation."
"If the Caged Bird Seal can truly be improved to that extent, the Hyuga Clan will be forever indebted to you."
The other clan heads were stunned.
They had always known the Hyuga Clan had internal divisions... but was it really that bad?
Uchiha Hikaru, however, understood perfectly.
He remembered the Caged Bird Seal etched into Neji's forehead.
He remembered how Hizashi—Hiashi's twin brother—had once been punished by his own sibling for a minor infraction, through that cursed seal.
If it weren't for that cruel system, that damned distinction between main and branch families... maybe the Hyuga could have lived in harmony.
Instead, the main family grew fat with power and privilege, while the branch family simmered in resentment and silence.
Hizashi had obeyed the rules, played the role he was given—and still, he'd been sacrificed.
That event had haunted Hiashi ever since.
And that pain... that guilt... had reawakened his humanity
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