Jinzō never thought he'd run into him here. Orochimaru. Just standing there like some snake-shaped nightmare.
And sure, Jinzō had been hoping to meet Orochimaru in Konoha one day… but definitely not this version.
Right now, Orochimaru was still loyal to the village, still brainwashed by that sunny little thing they called the Will of Fire. The real shift wouldn't come until much later—around the time Minato Namikaze lost his bid to become Hokage. That was when Orochimaru truly snapped.
Which meant if Jinzō gave this Orochimaru his "basic internal technique," the guy would just trot it over to the Hokage's desk like a good little soldier. And there went all of Jinzō's plans.
Sure, if the village had it, it would spread faster than Jinzō could manage alone. And yes, only the elites would even be able to pull it off. But the problem was—
He was an Uchiha. And when it came to the Uchiha, the village had a history of being… less than kind.
The last thing Konoha's higher-ups wanted was a competent Uchiha running around.
Just as Jinzō was silently weighing his options, Orochimaru's snake-like eyes locked onto him. The killing intent rolled off him in waves, making it clear: any wrong move, and he'd strike.
Even if he wasn't at his peak yet, Orochimaru was still an elite jōnin. Compared to him, Jinzō—who could barely scrape by at special jōnin—was just an ant waiting to be squashed.
"So tell me," Orochimaru drawled, voice dripping with disdain, "why is it that a kid who can't even perform ninjutsu suddenly whips out Shadow Clones and Fire Release like it's nothing?"
…Crap.
Not only had Orochimaru seen him use those jutsu, but he also knew exactly who Jinzō was. That wasn't supposed to be possible—his reputation was infamous, but his face wasn't widely known. How the hell did Orochimaru connect the dots?
Keeping his anxiety buried, Jinzō forced a respectful tone."I didn't expect someone as legendary as Orochimaru-sama to know about a nobody like me."
Which was basically like admitting: you recognizing me is a death sentence.
"Danzo's work," Orochimaru said coolly, "to damage the Uchiha name."
Ah. That explained why Jinzō's "failure" reputation had spread so damn far. If it hurt Uchiha prestige, Danzo was all over it.
"Damn that old vulture," Jinzō cursed silently, grinding his teeth. Without Danzo stirring the pot, his reputation wouldn't have been ruined all across the village. That man just made it onto Jinzō's eternal blacklist.
Orochimaru tilted his head, studying him. "You seem to know about Danzo."
That was dangerous. Danzo was a shadow in Konoha, buried so deep most ninja weren't even supposed to know he existed. If a genin-level Uchiha brat knew his name? Suspicions skyrocketed.
Of course, Jinzō knew him. He knew too much, actually—the man would one day become the Fifth Hokage candidate, the infamous puppet-master.
Orochimaru's killing intent flared hotter, suffocating him. Years of peace had made Jinzō soft, and he nearly buckled under it. He had no choice but to spit out the first excuse he could manage:
"…I read about him in my parents' diaries."
Orochimaru's face didn't move a millimeter. Classic poker-face shinobi. But Jinzō could tell the guy didn't buy a single word of it—the murderous aura only intensified.
Desperate, Jinzō blurted, "There's no way Lord Orochimaru thinks an Uchiha could be a spy!"
That struck home. Orochimaru's pressure lifted slightly. Because if there was one clan Konoha could trust not to betray the village, it was the Uchiha. Twisted as they were, they clung to Konoha like it was their birthright. Even the radicals thought the village belonged to them.
So betrayal? Off the table.
"…Is it fear of war, then?" Orochimaru asked, his eyes lowering.
Jinzō nearly sagged in relief, the killing intent fading. He rushed to explain:"No! I wasn't afraid. The exams just tested ninjutsu, and I couldn't perform any at the time. It's only recently that I've managed it."
Orochimaru didn't look convinced, but he turned to leave.
"Lord Orochimaru, wait!" Jinzō shouted, seizing the moment. "What if a shinobi could live forever?"
That stopped him cold. Orochimaru's gaze slid back, sharp and hungry. The dream of immortality hadn't fully taken root in him yet, but the seed was there.
Jinzō pressed on. "I've developed a technique that continuously generates chakra without damaging the body. In theory, if the chakra flow is endless, so is life."
It couldn't rely on borrowed chakra, of course—like from a tailed beast. That was suicide. But your own chakra? Eternal life on tap.
Orochimaru considered it, and the logic held. After all, most shinobi didn't die of age—they died in battle or burned themselves out by overusing chakra. Even then, many lived to sixty or seventy. With the right technique…
"Show me," Orochimaru demanded, his tone suddenly respectful.
Jinzō grinned and whipped out a small notebook from his tool pouch. "I've got a copy right here. But in exchange… take me as your disciple."
This was his chance. If Orochimaru accepted him, he'd gain a shield against Konoha's politics and maybe even refine the technique into something usable.
But fate had other plans.
"I'm not taking disciples right now," Orochimaru said quietly as he flipped through the notes. The shadow of Nawaki's death still haunted him.
Even so, he recognized the work immediately. This was advanced stuff—seal arrays broken down and reassembled into something new. Way beyond what any kid should be capable of.
Orochimaru closed the notebook, studying him with unreadable eyes. Jinzō forced a tragic, tearful face, but inside he was cursing Orochimaru's ancestors eighteen generations deep.
Still, Orochimaru murmured, "A genius researcher… as expected of an Uchiha."
He couldn't take Jinzō as a disciple, but he could protect the secret. "I'll help cover this up. And… I'll find you a teacher."
Before Jinzō could ask who, Orochimaru vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Wait—who's my teacher supposed to be?!" Jinzō shouted into the empty air. "Please let it be Tsunade! Don't stick me with Jiraiya, I can't deal with that lunatic!"
…
The next day at the Academy, Minato Namikaze stared at him, confused."What's with you? You look like a panda."
"Don't ask," Jinzō groaned, practically collapsing onto his desk.
Between switching to Eight Gates, bumping into Orochimaru, and then staying up all night working on techniques, he was dead on his feet.
Minato's curious look didn't even register. Jinzō mumbled something about new footwork styles, cursed at how impractical they were for his small body, then gave up on Lingbo Weibu altogether.
By dawn, he'd invented something new anyway. But right now? He faceplanted on the desk."Wake me when class is over."
At the front of the room, Instructor Inoue's face darkened.That damn repeater had no respect at all.