Chapter 9: Blood Pact and Turning Point
Inside the freezing Corridor of White Bones, the air was as heavy as a block of lead. Nara Shikamaru was on one knee, gasping for breath, every inhalation sending waves of agony through the open wounds that covered his body.
"Again!" Shikamaru's raw voice shattered the dead silence, ringing with an unyielding resolve. He flashed through a set of hand seals, his fingers trembling from the strain, and channeled the last of his chakra into the viscous darkness at his feet.
"Shadow Release: Serpent's Fang Strike!"
Instantly, his body was swallowed by the shadow, transforming into a flowing, distorted streak of ink-black darkness. This was no longer a simple glide; like a coiled viper striking, he shot forward with a piercing, lethal intent, moving so fast that a fleeting afterimage was left in his wake.
Kimimaro's dead, hollow eyes showed no change. Faced with an attack that would have spelled doom for any ordinary ninja, he simply raised his left hand as casually as if brushing away a speck of dust. His palm opened, the skin tearing silently as five spiraled, ghastly white finger bones prepared to launch.
"Dead Bone—"
Before the cold words were even fully formed, everything changed.
"Cough—! Gkhh... Puh!"
Kimimaro's body suddenly went rigid. A coughing fit, ten times more violent than any before, ripped through his chest like a storm. He instantly doubled over as if struck by an invisible sledgehammer. His pale face took on a deathly, ashen-gray pallor, and the dark veins on his temples and neck bulged like a spider's web, throbbing violently.
He clamped a hand over his mouth, but a thick, dark red torrent of blood—containing fine, sharp bone fragments—gushed between his fingers like a broken dam, staining the front of his white kimono a horrific crimson.
The fatal bone bullet attack died before it could be born.
Thud.
Kimimaro could no longer support himself. He collapsed to his knees, his body wracked by violent convulsions. Each cough brought up another gush of blood and was accompanied by the sickening, grating sound of bones cracking and splintering from within his own body.
"Kimimaro-senpai!" Shikamaru's form solidified from the shadows just a few paces away. The backlash from the interrupted jutsu sent a fresh wave of pain through his chest, but he ignored it completely.
Watching this hellish scene, watching the powerful, cold, machine-like master who had tempered him for half a year now struggling for life in a pool of his own blood like a shattered doll, a profound and icy weight seized his heart.
It wasn't pity. It was a sorrow for one of his own kind. He knew all too well that feeling of being consumed by one's own power, the desperation of life slipping away. In a way, this boy—a tool to Orochimaru, cursed by his own bloodline—was so similar to himself, a boy burdened by the future, who had willingly walked into a snake's den seeking power.
He couldn't just watch him die. Not just because Kimimaro was the only one who could push his shadow techniques to their limit, but because this cruel "senpai," who had beaten him to a pulp and dragged him back from the brink of death countless times, had already carved an indelible mark on his soul. It was a twisted, yet real, bond forged in blood and pain.
Shikamaru snapped his head up, his gaze piercing the gloom of the corridor like a flaming arrow, aimed at the deepest shadows of the lab. He knew those cold, golden eyes were watching.
"OROCHIMARU!" Shikamaru's voice, no longer restrained, boomed through the lab with an unprecedented urgency and a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve. "Get out here! I know you're watching! He won't last three days like this!" He pointed to Kimimaro, who was now barely breathing.
Silence.
Then, like a phantom, a figure emerged from the edge of the shadows. "Oh?" Orochimaru's voice was as slick as ever. "My, my, little Nara brat. Since when did you become so concerned for my 'tool'?"
"He's not a tool!" Shikamaru roared, his voice cracking. "He is Kaguya Kimimaro! He's... my senpai!" He said the last word with a heavy finality, a recognition born of shared agony. He took a deep, ragged breath. "You want the data on my evolving shadow techniques? You want the potential of this 'vessel'? Fine! But I want you to save him! Cure his kekkei genkai disease!"
"Save him?" Orochimaru chuckled, a low, grating sound. "The Kaguya clan's bloodline curse is a flaw imprinted on the source code of life itself. It's the price of power. A fate that even I cannot reverse. What makes you think," he spread his pale hands, his tone dripping with a lofty cruelty, "...that you can change it?"
"Fate?" Shikamaru surged forward a step, ignoring the tearing of his wounds. "If fate can't be changed, then what is this immortality you're chasing?! You're just a pathetic creature spinning its wheels in the river of time!" He stared into Orochimaru's suddenly constricted golden pupils, his every word a hammer blow. "I know what you're researching! Cells! Genes! The blueprint of life! The immortality you crave is nothing more than replication, transference, or... creation! Your imprisonment of Jugo, your research into his sage chakra—isn't that just another way of seeking a power that transcends the mundane?"
The mockery vanished from Orochimaru's face, replaced by a cold, calculating scrutiny.
Shikamaru pressed his advantage, his mind racing, forcibly merging the vague scientific concepts of his past life with the knowledge of this one. "The backlash from the Shikotsumyaku comes from its immense power overdrafting his life force! His cells can't withstand the high frequency of creation and destruction! To solve it, you need two keys!" He held up two bloody fingers.
"First, a perfect vessel! A 'Sage Body' capable of containing that rampant life force! Like the legendary First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, with his endless vitality! Or..." his eyes burned, "...you could use cell cloning technology to cultivate a pure, perfectly compatible host, and transfer his consciousness into it! Let him escape this cursed shell!" He deliberately used the word "cloning," a concept far beyond the current scope of the ninja world.
"Second, perfect control! The 'Sage's Eyes,' capable of manipulating life energy with microscopic precision!" Shikamaru's voice was ironclad. "The Hyuga Clan's Main Branch Byakugan! That is the ultimate ocular jutsu for observing the flow of life energy and controlling chakra pathways! With it, you could truly tame the Shikotsumyaku's rampage and guide his life force to prevent the backlash!"
He paused, his gaze as heavy as a prophet's. "Spiritual energy... that's the core! Strip away the cursed flesh, and inject the pure spiritual consciousness—the soul—into a new, perfect vessel. That is true 'rebirth'! Not your crude Living Corpse Reincarnation!"
"Cloning... spiritual energy... vessel... Main Branch Byakugan..." Orochimaru whispered the words, his golden eyes glowing like a forge, blazing with an unprecedented, greedy, and fanatical light. This wasn't just a plan to save Kimimaro; Shikamaru had just thrown open a brand new door to the ultimate secrets of immortality, a path Orochimaru had never even conceived of. This went beyond jutsu. This was the very essence of life and soul.
Just then, the sound of light footsteps broke the silence.
"Lord Orochimaru, I've returned."
A young man stood at the entrance to the corridor. He had neat, short, light-purple hair and round glasses. He wore a standard-issue Konoha flak jacket and a Leaf forehead protector. His smile was gentle and harmless.
Yakushi Kabuto.
He walked in, his smiling eyes taking in the wrecked training ground, the dying Kimimaro, and the blood-soaked Shikamaru, before coming to rest on Orochimaru. "Konoha Genin, Yakushi Kabuto. Mission complete, reporting for duty," he said, as if he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The fanaticism in Orochimaru's eyes receded, replaced once again by an unfathomable coldness. He glanced from Kabuto to Kimimaro, and then to the defiant Shikamaru. A meaningful smile slowly spread across his face.
"Just in time, Kabuto," he said smoothly. "Kimimaro needs to 'convalesce'." He then pointed to Shikamaru, his golden eyes glinting. "As for him... the resilience of this 'vessel' is quite unexpected. His shadow techniques are very interesting."
He turned back to Kabuto. "You have a three-week break. For these three weeks, your mission..." he pointed to the swaying Shikamaru, his smile deepening with a chilling playfulness, "...is to 'play' with him. Use your methods to help him... 'adapt' to his newfound power. I am very much looking forward to seeing what the Nara clan's shadow can evolve into under your 'care'."
"As for the Main Branch Byakugan... the perfect vessel..." Orochimaru's gaze finally rested on Kimimaro, no longer looking at a tool, but at a priceless experiment pregnant with infinite possibilities. He turned and walked back into the green-tinged gloom, his final, chilling words echoing in the Corridor of White Bones.
"It seems my research schedule... needs to be rearranged."
Kabuto pushed his glasses up his nose, the lenses flashing in the green light. The gentle smile never left his face as he walked over to the collapsed Kimimaro and began a practiced examination. At the same time, his mild gaze shifted to the heavily injured Shikamaru, who was still forcing himself to stand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Nara Shikamaru-kun," Kabuto's voice was as warm and pleasant as a spring breeze. "I'll be in your care for the next three weeks. Lord Orochimaru has placed such high hopes on your 'shadow', after all."
Shikamaru stared at Kabuto's harmless, smiling face. A chill, colder and more dangerous than any he had felt from Kimimaro, crept silently up his spine.
Three weeks... What kind of methods would this unfathomable spy use to "help" him? He could see a new, deeper darkness, filled with invisible thorns, slowly unfurling before him.