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Blood steamed on the forest floor, mixing with ash where fire and lightning had clashed against stone. The corpse of the Iwa elite jōnin lay sprawled across the shattered clearing, his hardened armor melted through, his chest torn open by the spiraling violence of Kirito's Vanishing Rasengan.
Kirito stood over him, chest heaving, body cut and burned in several places. That battle had not been simple prey—it had been war condensed into minutes. Every strike from the Iwa veteran had carried decades of killing intent, the weight of a hardened warrior who had survived the Third Shinobi War.
And Kirito had nearly lost.
His right arm trembled, fingers twitching from overuse of elemental infusion. His chakra core pulsed heavily, throbbing as though resenting the strain he'd forced upon it. Seals along his ribs flickered weakly, suppressing surges of unstable chakra. He staggered back, leaned against a charred tree, and exhaled slowly.
So this is the gap… between shadows and veterans.
The hunt had taught him much. Genin, chūnin, jōnin—he had cut through them with growing ease. But the elite class was different. They had faced death countless times, sharpened instincts honed to perfection. That fight had pushed him beyond the limit of his mask, forcing him to reveal a glimpse of his true ability. If the jōnin had lived even moments longer, Kirito might have been the one bleeding out on the dirt.
Still… he had won.
And the Shadow Hunter's legend grew sharper in blood.
---
The Hunter's Reputation
In the underworld, whispers roared into storms. The bounty stations buzzed with fear. An Iwa elite jōnin had vanished, his body delivered days later, bound with unfamiliar seals burned into the flesh. Rumors spread that the Shadow Hunter could match even elite veterans in single combat.
Some claimed he was no man at all but a ghost, a wraith born of war. Others whispered he was a missing ANBU from Konoha or Kirigakure. His identity became a puzzle no one could solve—and Kirito ensured it remained so, modifying chakra patterns through layered fuinjutsu, planting false rumors himself through bribed informants.
The bounty world grew cautious. Many jōnin-level missing-nin went into hiding. But to Kirito, it was opportunity. Each fight honed his mastery—lightning flickered sharper, fire roared hotter, and his taijutsu grew brutal, efficient, unrelenting. He was forging himself in the crucible of battle, and his core swelled stronger with every hunt.
Yet beneath the surface, his mind turned elsewhere. Hunting was growth, yes—but it was not purpose. Purpose lay in knowledge. In understanding. In power crafted not only from blood but from seals.
And the one man whose knowledge rivaled all others was Orochimaru.
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The Sound of Serpents
By the time Kirito turned eighteen, rumors of a new hidden village echoed across the lands—the Hidden Sound. Orochimaru, cast out of Konoha, had begun to weave his web anew. Whispers spoke of laboratories where human lives were dissected in pursuit of forbidden knowledge. To many, these were horror stories meant to frighten children. To Kirito, they were threads of opportunity.
In the quiet of his concealed workshop within the Forest of Death, he spread maps across a sealing array. Red ink marked known Sound outposts, merchant routes supplying them, and rumors of disappearances near their borders. Around him, hundreds of sealing scrolls glowed faintly, each connected to a shadow clone stationed somewhere far from Konoha.
"Find the serpents," Kirito whispered, infusing chakra into the network.
And like an army of silent ghosts, his clones scoured the world.
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The Clone Hunt
Each clone was more than just a scout. Kirito had refined the shadow clone technique beyond its intended use. His seals stabilized them, allowing them to endure longer and resist dispersal under light damage. Some carried suppressor tags that concealed chakra from even sensor-nin. Others bore miniature barrier seals, forming instant traps in case of ambush.
These clones infiltrated Sound villages disguised as merchants, guards, even wandering shinobi. They trailed missing persons cases, studied patrol schedules, and mapped terrain. Slowly, a web of information funneled back into Kirito's mind.
Days of meditation became floods of memory—dozens of perspectives collapsing into his core at once, nearly overwhelming him. He staggered, nose bleeding, but endured. It was worth it.
One clone reported glimpses of snake insignias carved into stone walls deep within River Country. Another found ruins beneath a village well that reeked of chemicals and preserved flesh. A third stumbled upon a patrol of Sound-nin guarding a mountain path with secrecy too deliberate to be coincidence.
Piece by piece, the labyrinth of Orochimaru's operations began to reveal itself.
---
The Shadow vs the Serpent's Legacy
Kirito knew better than to attack directly. Orochimaru was not prey to be hunted—he was a serpent coiled in darkness, waiting to strike. But information was power, and Kirito harvested it with patience.
He developed specialized sealing arrays designed to counteract experimentation labs:
Containment Seals to trap volatile chakra bursts.
Purification Seals to cleanse poisonous gases.
Stasis Tags that could preserve living tissue or eyes without decay.
His interest in the Sharingan experiments merged with his pursuit of Sound's labs. If Orochimaru had continued meddling with bloodlines, then his research could fill the gaps Kirito sought.
The Shadow Hunter became not just a bounty collector but a predator circling a greater predator.
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Between Two Lives
Still, he maintained his façade within Konoha. Missions continued—solo patrols, courier runs, occasional team assignments. As a chūnin, he was trusted, respected, even forgotten. No one questioned the quiet young shinobi who worked diligently but never shone.
At night, however, in the silence of his lab, he reviewed clone reports, inscribed new seals, and planned routes to Sound's hidden heart.
He knew a clash was inevitable. The moment he uncovered a true laboratory, it would test everything he had built—his core, his seals, his masks. Orochimaru's secrets promised knowledge beyond measure, but to reach them meant stepping deeper into a war that could consume him.
And still, he smiled faintly beneath the dim glow of sealing flames.
For a hunter, there was no greater thrill than stalking prey that could kill you.
...